Burlesque is back! If not W. C. Fields, at least Hognose Hughes; if not the Keystone Cops, at least Fat Harry Mannlicher and the vigilantes of Muldoon's Saloon. Priscilla, My Pet, which should have been called "The Pig-baller's Ball," is something like an X-rated Three Stooges movie, or the Boar's-Head Tavern scenes of Henry IV played in the nude. It is Rabelaisian slapstick cranked down to the nth notch; Chaucer's Miller's Tale updated and transplanted to the pig sty; The Perils of Pauline gone bestial.
Oh yes, there's a lot of this latter in it, except that Miss Freed's Pauline, Priscilla Mannlicher (Hoglicher would perhaps have been better) is closer to the burlesque stage than to the movie screen. She is one of those cute little innocent ignorant naive blonde ing'nues who comes on stage in a Little Bo Peep costume and says things like, "You filthy bugger, let go of me this instant before you do irreparable damage to my vagina!" In short, it is-as Miss Freed would say in her outrageously alliterative way-a salacious spectacle of sadosexual spoliation . . . a scandal, but simply super.
But perhaps it will not be out of place to begin by pondering briefly the apparently peculiar characteristics of the author of Priscilla, My Pet as a person-or as a pig, which is, if not probable, possible. I don't mean that figuratively, as an insult, but literally, as a suspicion; for if, as Miss Freed demonstrates, a girl can become a dog, and a man a hog, why not a pig an authoress? But this is idle speculation and no doubt beyond the realm of inquiry of one who has been asked merely to introduce the book, and not to classify its author as to species. Besides, it is probably groundless, for while it is true that her typing is sloppy to be sure (I have the manuscript before me), still it is difficult to see how it could have been done with hooves, cloven or not. Nevertheless, it can hardly be disputed that the book, while it addresses itself to swine-lovers everywhere, is narrated strictly from the pigs point of view. However, I leave the matter to biologists.
Let us look at the facts. First, Miss Freed is obviously quite familiar with the pigpen and the hog wallow, not to mention the peculiar psychosexual tendencies of pubescent farm girls, which she lays bare from early masturbation to almost equally early defloration. She is, then-or was-a farm girl. And yet she seems strangely unfamiliar with the speech of stockmen-men who must have tended the very slop troughs she knows so well, the very boars and sows with whose propensities she is so conversant. What, for instance, are the first words she draws from the mouth of Hognose Hughes, the pig-sticking hayseed who abducted Priscilla and dragged her by the hair to his sty-a man who flunked out of school in the second grade and whose most memorable sexual experiences have, been with sows? Something gross?-some disgusting bit of filth straight from the slaughterhouse? No. "At your service, miss," says he-and with a bow, no less! (True, he has his lapses, such as: "Honey chile, I been working with hawgs for nigh on twenty years, and believe me, Ah stink!" But still and all . . . )
But perhaps these incongruities are not wholly irreconcilable. We might, for instance, envision Miss Freed remaining aloof from the lower strata of the pork world, rarely venturing from her large white red-roofed farmhouse, receiving her schooling through tutors (for she is obviously well educated, suilinely and otherwise), and on Sundays, when the hands were off, or in the dead of night when they were asleep, slipping silently to the sties (now she's got me doing it-alliterating, that is) to consort surreptitiously in the swill with the swine, to romp with the razorbacks, to do her thing with the porkers.
But there is a hitch to his theory. For how is it that such a woman, however versatile, could have become, or come under the influence of, a Marine Corps drill instructor? Consider this bit of dialogue between Priscilla and her hog-nosed abductor. Hognose has just asked her if she doesn't think it's about time she cleaned up the mess she made of his genitals by permitting him to back-scuttle her. "Right," says Priscilla. "What?" growls Hognose. "Right, sir," the poor girl corrects herself. "Say it with a little more feeling!" snorts the pig man. Anyone who has endured the humiliating ordeal of a Marine boot camp can say unequivocally that this comes straight from the muddy parade fields of Parris Island, and from nowhere else.
But lest I overload my remarks with idle speculation, let us conclude only that the identity, the social status, the genus, the species and even the sex of the writer who calls herself (or himself or itself) Lorna Freed is and must remain-on the basis of the evidence at hand-a conundrum.
The style of Priscilla, My Pet, as I have inferred above, is utterly outrageous. Such brazen buffoonery and alliterative licentiousness is seldom seen outside the works of the Elizabethan slapstickers and the novels of R.John Smythe. A few examples taken at random will suffice to make the point.
"Nothing mattered but the marvelous thing that was happening to her nether lands as she wallowed naughtily in a delirium of delight."-"He endured her onslaught with a satisfied smile on his salacious lips." And if there's one thing Hognose Hughes knows how to do, "it's cold cock a fella with a cudgel." And later he "mused as his mind wallowed in miasma." Indeed! And if that's not enough, consider this, from the hog-human daisy chain scene: "One gay bastard hopped aboard his brother and began buggering away with pig-like aplomb." But enough, enough!
Yet the humor in these pages arises not only from the bombast and audacious alliteration, but also from certain lines inserted insidiously in (there I go again!) the script, calculated to take the reader by surprise. What, for example, does Little Bo Priscilla (still a virgin who doesn't know the meaning of the word "aroused") . . . what does this innocent child say to her sex-crazed Hungarian chauffeur Zoltan as he struggles to free himself from the bramble bush into which he has fallen in his frantic effort to get into the back seat of the limousine and lay siege to her defenseless virginity? This: "Quit fucking around and get your ass in here this instant!" Imagine! And then there is the conversation between little Priscilla-still pure, mind you, except for a brief fellatial-cunnilingual exchange with Zoltan-and her prudish frigid cold-blooded mother.
It begins with Priscilla accusing her mother of denying her father certain marital pleasures having to do with the bedroom-all in the most cultured and proper language: "How can you say such a thing?" exclaims Mrs. Mannlicher. "You, my very own daughter, calling me cruel!" And Priscilla: "But you most definitely were, Mother dear. Surely you must know how strong the sex drive is in man. To deny him that much-needed release was both a mental and physical torture that as far as I'm concerned was inexcusable." And it goes on like that for a while, in more or less believable dialogue; but then when Mrs. Mannlicher accuses Priscilla of getting all this sex business from her father, who "goes in for that sort of thing,"' and also for "pictures of nudie cuties in lewd poses," Priscilla says: "He wouldn't have to if you'd let him ball you now and then." Scandalous!
And then there are the sudden shifts in the other direction-from the tense to the casual, from the vulgar to the cultured. In the midst of being painfully deflowered by the brutal Zoltan, who, pound and thrust though he will, cannot seem to rend her tenacious hymen, Priscilla remarks, "Hey, that hurts."
And to return to Hognose for a moment, after having dragged Priscilla to his pigpen, in the middle of the grossest vernacular, including such things as "Don't kid me, sister, you already been screwed once today," and "He a pretty good fucker, is he?" and "gotta get up early to feed the pigs . . . just too tuckered out to treat you to a good time" and "after that hunkie dirtied you with his greasy dick"-in the middle of this, he says: "Years of working with hogs have given me insight into what great creatures they really are." Not even an accent! And a moment later, defending his nose, he says: "if you were a sow, you'd think me handsome." And so on, to say nothing of such out-and-out comical lines as: "You got spunk, Priscilla. I like that in a sow, er, girl." And-this also from Hognose as he ponders letting Priscilla have her last wish, to be mounted by his prize boar, before shooting her: "I dunno, I don't want to damage his do-flingy."
Though my space is running short, there is one other thing I feel I should touch on, because it seems to be the basic premise underlying this story. I mean what I might call "infectious metamorphic magic," or "instant evolution." It is clear to me that while Miss Freed's tutor was delivering his lecture on biological selection, she must have been gazing absent-mindedly out the window at the hogs, for she seems to equate one's basic genetic characteristics-physical as well as mental-with communicable disease. Hognose Hughes, because he has all his life lived among swine-swilling them, castrating them, sleeping with them and slitting their throats-thinks and even looks like a hog; one feels that, should he survive this book, there will come a day when he will develop hooves and go whole hog, so to speak. Priscilla's father, Fat Harry, also has a certain pig-like appearance, due to his beginnings on a small pig farm, his lifelong suiline associations, and his habit of bedding down with a sow in preference to his wife.
Similarly, verifying the formula, when Hognose chains Priscilla up with the dogs, it is only a matter of a few weeks-during which she eats with them, sleeps with them, and is "molested" by them-until she begins to take on unmistakable canine attributes. Her body becomes covered with hair, she attracts fleas, she scratches herself, she grows mangy, she walks on all fours; whenever Hognose comes near her, she bares her teeth, snarls, growls, and at night she howls at the moon. Miss Freed seems to be saying that humans have something of the chameleon in them, and can almost immediately take on the appearance of any other creature, if exposed to the environment to which that creature is naturally adapted. Curious, what? Clearly, there was a corroded cog in the clockworks of her curriculum.
But leaving Miss Freed's shortcomings behind, the reader has surely perceived by now that this book is the literary answer to the pleas of long-deprived erotically minded pig farmers everywhere-the answer, surely, to their wildest dreams while perusing the local book racks, searching in vain for something even vaguely touching on the delights of the muck pond and the slaughter pen. There has been nothing on the open market to compare with this since Al Capp's Moonbeam McSwine.
As for the conclusion of the tab', it can hardly be read without hearing the shrill bugle call of the Cavalry charge in the distance. The pig-loving reader will be snorting and slobbering like a rutting boar as Hognose's prize porker prepares to mount the hapless heroine, while out of Muldoon's Saloon, in a cloud of dust, armed to the teeth, come Harry Mannlicher's avengers, Fat Harry in the lead, Zoltan at the wheel, hot on the trail of the hog-nosed villain. Everyone is there-the vigilantes in Chevy pickups and Ford Falcons, the F.B.I, in black Ford Fairlanes, the C.I.A. in Citroens; and Fat Harry, his shotgun at the ready, is shouting, "Faster, faster, you fool . . . a girl's life may lie at stake!"-and here I sit, alliterating like an ass! And then, with a roll of the drum and a blast of the bugles, Harry's long black two-ton Caddy, its twin American flags fluttering from its tailfins . . . but I don't want to spoil it for you.
Whatever has been said previously needs be concluded with a word of sincere praise. Burlesque is a valid art form, and here it is well used. This extreme of satire still provides a medium for thoughtful expression, and Priscilla, My Pet makes for an uproarious yet incisive commentary on life in these benighted States.
J. Vincent Rothchilde, Ph.D.
CHAPTER ONE
Twin American flags fluttered from the tail fins of the long black Cadillac as it cruised by the cornfields bordering Hog City. Nebraska was hot this time of year, and the temperature was well past the century mark. In nearby pastures cattle huddled together in hope of making their own shade. Sensible people stayed inside. Only the Mexican migrants kept working-but as everyone knew, "They were used to it."
Protected from the heat and stickiness, Priscilla Mannlicher rode in the air-conditioned comfort of her daddy's limousine. Reclining on the sumptuous broadcloth of the back seat, she studied the passing scenery through the blue tinted lenses of her imported sunglasses, wishing she were somewhere else. No matter how one looked at it, Hog City was not the place to be in mid-August.
Priscilla longed for the day she turned eighteen. Perhaps then her ultra-conservative parents would let her venture past the county line and sample some of the offerings of the outside world. She felt imprisoned in this hick town. What good was all her daddy's money if she couldn't go anywhere? Even Omaha was off-limits, as were all big cities. Her parents considered them hotbeds of sin, certainly not the place for a pubescent girl to visit, let alone play.
While Priscilla was pondering her dilemma, the car rounded a bend and came upon one of the many slaughterhouses her father owned. She looked out on pen after pen of pigs having their last oink before being butchered. A few boars were mounting sows, desperately seeking one final thrill before fate turned them into the fillings for ham sandwiches.
Ordinarily (being a girl of good upbringing), Priscilla would have lowered her modest eyes on seeing such a salacious sight as pigs, rutting. But today she found herself strangely fascinated by the vulgar antics of the doomed pigs. For the first time she was seeing a larger meaning in the lewd goings-on in the pigpens. Are men really much different from pigs? she mused. Don't they both share the same, base motives?
Her mother had told her that men, including her very own father, had some filthy habits-far worse than smoking smelly cigars-that were best not discussed in polite conversation. Although on the surface men might seem genteel, underneath the glitter of their friendly smiles lay a murky abyss of bestial lust, according to her mother.
"Men want women for one reason only," she had said to her sole daughter, "and when they are through with us they would sooner be with their male friends than share our fair company. They are vile, filghty beasts to whom you must submit in order to have children, but whose natures are little better than the beasts' when aroused."
"What do you mean by 'aroused?" Priscilla had asked.
"You'll see, as soon as you're married."
Not knowing the sexual connotation of this word, she'd been more than a little captivated by its mystery. Even though her mother had warned her about men, she found herself fascinated by them. But then, as she had learned from her family's minister, evil was often more fascinating than good. She knew she must learn to check her curiosity before it had awful consequences-she really must!
Even though she knew it was evil to do so, she continue to study the humping hogs. Although she had led a sheltered life as a result of over-protective parents who feared kidnappers and gold diggers, Priscilla had learned from private tutors at least the rudimentary facts of life She knew that animals bred to reproduce, and so did humans. Do men go about it the same way as these pigs. she wondered. Ugly as the speculation was, it produced wanton images in her mind's eye that made her wonder if she didn't know instinctively how to breed.
Although her parents had been careful to keep her ignorant of matters sexual, she had picked up scraps of knowledge from listening to the servants, who were less bashful about speaking of such things. Her mother had banished all mention of sex from dinner-table conversation as a result, her father had very little to talk about, save business and the weather.
He too, Priscilla had noticed, seemed to share an interest in the opposite sex not un-like the boar's interest in the sows. Once she'd found him perusing a calendar, and although he'd tried to hide it from her view, she'd chanced to glimpse a full-length, living-color photo of an unclad female. When she'd asked him about it, he'd blushed deeply and begged her not to tell Mother. An obedient child, she'd done as told. On another occasion, when her mother had been away visiting grandmother in New York, Priscilla had found him with his arms around a chambermaid. Both had big smiles on their faces until they'd seen the child watching. Then her father had rudely pushed the servant away, pretending that nothing had happened. Priscilla had asked him about that, too, and again had been warned not to tell Mother what she had seen.
Someday, she vowed, she would solve the mystery of what went on between her father and the chambermaid, his calendar and her mother. Not very much seemed to happen between him and the latter, though, aside from the fact that they ate a meal together once a day and lived in the same house. They slept in different bedrooms and spoke to one another only when absolutely necessary. Often they conveyed messages through Priscilla, the only product of their marriage. Now that she'd learned a little biology, she realized why.
Although her father was at times boorish and inconsiderate, she still liked him more than she liked her mother. At least he seemed alive.
His forehead was ruddy from years of working in the fields before he'd grown sick of it and had gone to work for his future wife's father, a man who'd also made the step from farmer to businessman. The two had taken a shine to one another almost immediately, and before long the sturdy farm boy had become the boss's fair-haired lad. Having no sons, the old man had treated young Harry Mannlicher as one of his own and groomed him to take over his meat packing company. To complete the union, he'd arranged things so his only daughter Melissa would marry the man who was so much like himself. But first he'd had to get that good-for-nothing poet she was in love with out of the way, a feat he accomplished easily with a lump sum payment and threat of lethal action should the poem-spouting lad ever return to Hog City.
Melissa had cried her eyes out for a week, but in the end she'd come around to her daddy's way of thinking. She, like Priscilla, had been raised to be an obedient child. Although she hated Harry almost as much as she did her father, she'd married him. As much as she despised them, she realized it was men who ran things, Being of German ancestry, she knew a woman's place.
Unperceptive Harry had actually thought the girl loved him, so he was more than a little disappointed when she proved a washout in bed. Despite a great deal of coaxing, he'd been able to mount her only once in the course of their marriage, and that was on their wedding night. Needless to say, that single coupling had obviously been sufficient to impregnate the new bride, with Priscilla the result.
Priscilla knew all this from what her mother had told her in confidential conversations that were not, she was warned, to be repeated to anyone.
As the pigs passed from sight, Priscilla continued to ponder the question of procreation. How did humans reproduce? Someday she'd find out, and soon!
In the front compartment, separated from his mistress by a plate glass window, Zoltan the chauffeur was also having problems. Shortly before he had discovered that by adjusting his rear view mirror just so, he could look up the skirt of his pretty passenger. The first glimpse of her panties had produced a protuberance that was now poking obscenely against the crotch of his blue livery. Sweat beaded his swarthy forehead as he watched her squirm about on the back seat. She looked so luscious he was about to lose his mind, not to mention his load. Even if she was under age and the boss's daughter, he decided he had to fuck her if it was the last thing he ever got to do. So affected was he by her reflected, nubile image that he was on the verge of stopping by the wayside and raping her on the spot. He wanted her that bad.
He'd made many girls since coming to this country in 1956, but none could compare to the cuddly piece of tail it was his pleasant duty to protect. Harry Mannlicher had hired Zoltan as Priscilla's bodyguard thirteen years ago, after reading in the paper about his exploits as a freedom fighter in Hungary. At that time, the family had received several anonymous notes threatening the kidnapping of the child. The F.B.I, had traced them to a drunken hog butcher who'd worked in one of the Mannlicher's myriad slaughterhouses, charges had been pressed, and the culprit had been incarcerated for a long term in prison. Recently, the butcher had been released, and Harry had given Zoltan orders to be on the look-out for him.
Zoltan chuckled on recalling his rise to fame following the October uprising in Budapest. It was ironic that shortly before the revolt, he had served a prison term for thievery, his gypsy blood and light fingers having gotten him tossed into the pokey. It was his hatred of the police rather than any great difference in political beliefs that had caused him to fight the Communists, although when the fact of his former-prisoner status was later released by the Reds, he and other right-thinking Americans had naturally called it "another Commie smear."
He'd been welcomed to this country by many patriotic groups and had been given the key to any number of Republican stronghold cities. Everywhere he went, he was cheered when he told his audiences how he'd plagued the Commies with Molotov cocktails and poured liquid soap under tank tracks to make them slip. What his admirers had failed to realize was that he was less an anti-Communist than a juvenile delinquent. At nineteen he was not un-like some of the student protesters in the U.S. today who break windows not for some abstract ideal, but rather because they like to hear the sound of smashing glass. He'd had great fun taking on those Russian tanks with his bare hands. In the summer of '68, watching the invasion of Czechoslovakia on TV had brought it all back, making him homesick. But of course, he couldn't go back to Hungary.
If he hadn't been lauded as such an anti-Red here in '56, he might have been able to return for at least a visit. Unfortunately, even if he could get into the country, now, he would find himself facing another prison sentence for subversion. At least in America he was safe from extradition proceedings.
His mind meandered back to the beauty at hand. Ever since Priscilla had reached puberty he'd wanted her with all his horny, Hungarian soul. He longed to lick her fine, slender shape from toe to crown, pausing in between at assorted spots of interest. Closing his eyes, he could almost taste her juicy twat. She was just the way he liked 'em, slim and lithe with something of the greyhound or thoroughbred filly about her. Un-like most cuddly teenagers, she had a figure that had been molded and disciplined by a decade of ballet lessons and horseback riding. Her softly angular frame was sleeker and racier than the chubbier bodies of her corn-fed coevals. Constructed for speed, it also looked like it could go the distance.
Zoltan had found from experience that slim girls had a greater appetite for lovemaking. It seemed the ones with a hunger edge had a sharper desire to feast on love. He hoped Priscilla would run true to form and prove to be a ravishing skinny who'd enjoy feeling his hot, Hungarian dick in her tight little cunt.
He gazed again into the rear-view mirror and caught sight of her small but shapely breasts thrusting against the top of her custom-tailored mini-dress. They were taut, delicious-looking cupfuls he was aching to kiss. She's narrow where it counts, he mused, but she still has nice boobs. Maybe they aren't as big as the tits of some of the local farm girls I've fucked since coming to Hog City, but they don't sag, either. She was ripe for picking, and he was ready, willing and able to deflower her on the spot.
Noticing that he was watching her in the mirror, Priscilla stared back at his reflected dark eyes and gave him an, "I could love you to pieces" look such as she'd seen on the faces of the girls gracing her father's fleshy calendars.
The effect was instantaneous. Zoltan was so excited he forgot to steer, and the car went sliding off, onto the shoulder. Fearing something had gone wrong, Priscilla grabbed the speaking tube and asked, "What's the matter, Zoltan? Aren't you feeling well? Is something wrong with the car?"
Desperately trying to pull himself together in spite of an immense erection that made driving difficult (it kept getting caught in the steering wheel), he avoided looking into the mirror and tried to appear in control of the situation, which he was not.
Seeing how flustered he was, Priscilla decided to play a long shot.
"Zoltan, don't tell me you're aroused!"
"How did you know? Please don't tell your father! He'd have me horsewhipped!" Now he really began to sweat.
Enthralled by the lure of the forbidden, Priscilla pursed her lips and blew him a kiss like she'd seen the girl do on the Ultra-Brite commercials. "Don't worry, Zoltan baby, I won't tell on you."
"Whew! That's a relief. I thought it was curtains for Zoltan, for sure."
"Your secret is safe with me, I assure you. I do not breach confidences. However, this promise to keep my lips sealed is conditional."
"On what, Miss Priscilla?" He began to fear the worst as he struggled to keep his eyes on the road-they kept straying to the exposed portion of pink panty showing between her creamy thighs.
"On your pulling off the road and showing me just how aroused you are."
Manna from heaven! If what I heard is true, there must be a God!
"Did you hear me, Zoltan-did you?"
Shaken from his erotic reverie by her insistence, he muttered a few incomprehensible phrases in Hungarian and made a right angle turn off the highway, onto a two-track, dirt road. The Caddy slid sideways in a cloud of dust, nearly ending up in a nearby ditch.
Yipes! That was a close one! Better watch it. If I smash up the boss's car while driving Priscilla down this desolate road, I'll never be able to explain it.
Basking in her new sense of power over the frustrated hireling up front, Priscilla lay back against the broadcloth with a smug look on her pretty face.
"Do be careful now, dear Zoltan. We don't want anything to happen to Daddy's car, do we?"
"No, Miss Priscilla, we certainly don't!"
"Zoltan, are you nervous or something?" she asked. "Why, you're shaking all over!"
"It's just the heat, it bothers me that way."
"But the air conditioning is on."
"Oh, so it is. Guess I didn't notice."
Supremely impatient, he drove faster, hoping to find an appropriate spot far from the prying eyes of farmers and company spies. Up ahead he saw a smaller road fork off to the left. Although little more than a trail, he took it, hoping no poachers were about, knowing that getting caught alone in such circumstances with this teen-aged girl would be disastrous. As a foreigner, he would doubtless be doubly punished. Instead of being known as a courageous anti-Communist, he'd be the hairy, Hungarian seducer from whom no decent girl was safe. They might even lynch him on the spot, as he'd heard was done to darkies in the South.
"Do you have to drive so far for such a simple thing, Zoltan? Couldn't we do it right here?"
"I don't want to block traffic, Miss Priscilla."
"I don't think we have to worry about that, now do we, Zoltan? I doubt there's been a car down this trail in months."
"Then it's about due for one, I should think. Hunting season starts any month now. Best I drive a little bit further to be sure." He tromped down on the accelerator, racing down the narrow country lane at breakneck speed. The Caddie bounced over chuckholes and brushed against Sumac bushes. Occasionally its springs bottomed out when a big dip was hit, making Priscilla more than a bit uncomfortable.
"Will you please slow down, Zoltan!" she screamed, an unpleasant edge on her shrill, adolescent voice.
An obedient servant in spite of his moral lapses, he slammed on the brakes, sending the huge, black behemoth into a four-wheel drift that churned up an enormous dust cloud in the sylvan surroundings. So frightening was the effect that wildlife of every kind scurried from the path of the skidding monster, intruding on what had hither to been their private domain.
When the air had cleared and the crews quieted down, Priscilla again grabbed the speaking tube and barked, "Since you're so hot and bothered about this thing, Zoltan, why don't you come back here and get it over with before you kill us both with your wild driving!"
From the firm tone in her voice, it was obvious she could give orders as well as take them. Having been reared in an authoritarian environment, Zoltan quickly started to comply with the order he had been dreaming about ever since he'd seen his pretty mistress enter pubescence.
Being careful not to bang his bulge on the bottom of the steering wheel, he hurriedly extricated himself from the safety belt his employer made him wear to enable him to pay a lower insurance rate, and then yanked down on the door handle and bolted from the front seat into the baking heat outside. So great was the change in temperature-Priscilla always liked to play with the regulator, sometimes turning it down to freezing-that he nearly doubled over from shock.
Hobbling half-bent-over from the effects of heat prostration and hard-on, Zoltan failed to look where he was going and stumbled headlong into a bramble bush.
As he extracted prickers from face, hands, and uniform-luckily none had gone through to his naughtiness-he could hear the faintly subdued sound of Priscilla's giggling inside. Cursing the upper class under his breath, he continued removing the rustic thorns and hoped his uniform wasn't ruined. Explaining its tattered condition to Harry was something he'd rather not have to do.
His erection growing harder by the second, he hurried to free himself from the brambles and get to the job at hand. He could almost taste her nipples in his salivating mouth.
A series of taps against the window showed that Priscilla was equally frustrated by his bumbling. After getting his attention, she lowered the window half an inch and said, "Quit fucking around and get your ass in here this instant!" Since she had never used such strong language in his presence before, doing so now had double the impact. It was, in fact, the very first time Priscilla had ever uttered such coarse expletives aloud. She had heard the words used by field hands working on her father's farms and assumed, correctly, them to be the language of the common folk. They certainly worked wonders on Zoltan!
In a trice he was hobbling out of the bothersome bush and pulling with all his might on the locked door handle.
"Will you PLEASE pull that little lever up so I can get out of this heat!" he said, through clenched teeth that belied his all-consuming frustration.
"Not until you calm down a little! And brush some of those sumac berries off your coat. I don't want a rash."
Again doing as told, he bided his time as Priscilla pushed up her sunglasses to better see if he was following her orders.
"Do I pass inspection?" he asked, showing her the top and bottom of his hands and doing an about face so she could see his behind was also free of Sumac berries.
"Just," she said, condescendingly, popping up the door lock with a certain aristocratic aplomb.
Suppressing a chortle, she strived desperately to maintain her seigniorial demeanor, but found it difficult under the humorous circumstances. Although Zoltan tried to come on as a suave European, he ended up being a bumbling immigrant. His slick facade failing him, he proved far more endearing as a buffoon anyway. Priscilla hated stuffed shirts, so his clumsiness caused him to come across as a flustered friend rather than a know-it-all Don Juan.
No sooner had he grabbed the silver door handle than his nemesis had locked it again.
"Please, Priscilla, unlock the door, it's hot out here!" He got down on his knees.
She stuck out her tongue at him. He began to bounce up and down as his dick swelled to enormous size against the serge confines of his trousers' crotch. What with the heat, worry and exertion, he was sweltering in the heavy blue garment. Why in hell couldn't Harry have issued me a summer uniform, the cheap bastard!
Just as he was on the verge of losing his mind from frustration, Priscilla pulled up the door lock and allowed him ingress to the air-conditioned, rear compartment. Before she knew it, he was covering her well-turned ankles with sloppy kisses of gratitude. He was about to lick between her toes when she stopped him by latching on to his long, greasy hair and pulling him off her great toe. "There's no need to be obsequious, Zoltan, you're not back in Hungary. You're in America now where all men are created equal."
"With each other, perhaps, but compared to you, Priscilla, I am no more than a humble peasant." He bowed his head in abject submission as she affectionately patted his sweaty nape.
"You're a good man, Zoltan, you really are. Always there when I need you."
"That's what your father pays me for, to protect you twenty-four hours a day," he said, through the folds of her mini-dress.
"And you do a darn good job of it too, you hear? Not a soul has harmed me once since Daddy hired you. That's pretty amazing, considering what could have happened. Say, Zoltan, aren't we forgetting something?"
"What, Miss Priscilla, what?" He raised his head and looked at hers as if she were the Virgin Mary.
"What you promised to show me, Zoltan. Don't tell me you've forgotten why I asked you?"
Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she refreshed his addled memory. "You admitted earlier you were aroused, and promised to show me how much."
Hoping they meant the same thing-once when his English wasn't so good, he had lost a job when a prospective employer had asked to see his testimonials and he'd thought she'd meant something else-he hurriedly unbuttoned the fly of his uniform. Within seconds he had his huge, pink member freed and was flaunting its smelly stiffness in her startled face.
"It sure stinks!" she exclaimed, this being her first whiff of aroused prick. But after the initial reaction wore off, she found herself strangely attracted by the manly aroma of Zoltan V bobbing appendage.
Apprehensively, like a cat toying with a captive mouse, she reached out and touched his foreskin.
"Don't be afraid, Priscilla, it won't bite."
"But I don't like the way its one big eye stares at me, I really don't." She let go of the swollen gland and covered her eyes from its throbbing firmness. Somehow, in some indescribable way, she sensed that it represented evil. She was sure her mother wouldn't have approved of what she had just done.
"Please touch me again, Priscilla, you don't know how good it makes me feel."
If such a thing brings pleasure to another human being, she rationalized, surely it cannot be bad; or can it?
Before she had a chance to make up her mind, Zoltan made it up for her. Seizing her by the wrist, he reapplied her soft, white hand to his throbbing, pink shaft and guided it up and down the hot length of dick. She tried to resist, but found it impossible. His grasp was too strong.
"Zoltan, you're hurting me! Please let go of my hand this instant! Do you hear?"
"Listen, bitch, from now on I'M giving the orders, understand? You do as I say or get a slap across the face!"
"How dare you speak to me with that tone, you servant!"
Before she could say another word, he gave her the back of his hand across the face. Within moments, blood began trickling from the corners of her mouth, but she shut up.
Realizing he had her in his power, he decided to make use of it. Why settle for a simple jerk-off when a blow-job is possible? He rammed his rampant cocktip against her bee-stunt; lips.
"Kiss it, cunt!" he bellowed, his accent growing more pronounced as he got excited.
Despite having qualms about pressing her lips to such a smelly part of the human body, she did as told, although only after he had seized her by the back of her neck and pushed her blonde head down upon his prick.
She made gasping noises as the thick shaft filled her throat with its firmness.
"Please don't make me do that, Zoltan," she said, struggling to back off from his out-sized foreskin. "It makes it hard for me to breathe."
"Use your nose, not your mouth, you dumb cunt!" Again he shoved her head down on his dick, but to no avail. Although he kept his cock lodged in her throat until she turned blue, there seemed no way for her to give him a satisfactory hlowjob.
"You're a frigging failure, that's what you are!" he screamed in her ear as he held her up by the hair. "Until you learn how to breathe through your nose, you'll never be any good at sucking me off!"
He let her go and she fell in a heap onto the mohair-carpeted floor of the rear compartment.
"And to think I was going to have some fun back here!" he muttered, leaning back in the seat with his big hard-on in full view of the rejected female on the floor.
Looking up at the lewd projectile protruding from his pants, she said, "What docs it feel like to be aroused, Zoltan?"
"It feels great, unless you're in the fix I presently am in.
"Does it make you feel kinda tingly all over."
"Yes, you might say that. Why do you ask."
"Because that's how I feel right now. Do you think I'm aroused?"
"It's not an unnatural thing in these situations. You know-" He made a preliminary move toward her virgin pussy with his hand. "If you want me to, I can make you feel even more tingly."
Unfortunately for Zoltan, who was beginning to dream of deflowering her toute de suite, she stayed his horny hand and transferred it back to his still-stiff cock.
"When I want you to take indecent liberties with my person, I'll tell you," she said, regaining the upper hand.
"But I want to make you feel good too," he countered, sliding his other hand between her spread thighs. Again she stopped him.
Realizing he was getting nowhere with this "nice guy" approach, he resorted to proven methods. Grabbing hold of her girlish hand, he clamped it on his cock and demanded satisfaction.
Not wanting another slap across the face, she complied with his masturbatory request, though with a sullen expression.
"Suffer, little one," he said, holding her chin between his thumb and forefinger, an evil smile on his swarthy face.
Unable to retaliate in any ordinary way, she took out her frustrations on his rod, squeezing it with all her might in hopes this might hurt him. He loved it.
"For a first-timer, you're terrific!" he exclaimed as he fully enjoyed her hand job. "Are you sure you haven't done this before?"
"Absolutely not! What kind of girl do you think I am?" She squeezed his cock harder to show her chagrin, causing it to explode in a series of hot spurts that showered her pretty face with stickiness and sullied her hitherto unblemished reputation.
CHAPTER TWO
"Please don't cry, Priscilla, I'm sorry I made you do that awful thing." Zoltan took out his soiled handkerchief to wipe gobs of gooey semen that were dripping down her face.
"You could at least use a clean handkerchief!" she protested, noticing balls of hardened snot on its surface.
"I'm sorry, it's all I have."
She reached into her ostrich purse and extracted a silk hanky with which to mop up the mess. "You're not really sorry you made me do what you made me do, are you?" she asked as she wiped her face free of drying, sperm droplets.
"A standing prick hath no conscience."
"That's for sure. Once that thing of yours gets hard, you'll do anything to make it spurt. It sure makes a mess when it does. Ugh! It's no wonder Mother hates men. Even their seed smells bad!"
"You'll get used to it, my dear. It's like your first cigarette. Sure it makes you cough, but before long you're hooked on smoking."
"That's the trouble with the older generation, getting itself addicted to cigarettes, booze, and sex. I, for one, intend to do otherwise," she replied, a smug look on her young face.
"With what, marijuana? I can tell you from experience that sex packs a far bigger kick than that weak weed. If you'll just give me a chance to show you, III make you feel better than you have ever felt in your entire life."
"I doubt it. So far all you've done is make me feel more disgusted than I've ever been in my seventeen and a half years."
"You're that old, are you? My, how time flies! Why, it seems like only yesterday you were a little brat who always wet her pants."
"Do you have to be so adult about everything? The next thing you'll be saying is you're amazed at how big I've grown. So you dandled me on your knee when I was young. That doesn't give you the right to shove your dick in my mouth, does it?"
"Wherever did you learn such language, little girl? Tsk, tsk!"
"From listening to men talk about the one thing that interests them most."
"Sex? Where would we be without it? After all, it is necessary that we indulge now and then if the human race is to endure."
"But that doesn't mean we should do perverted things!"
"Why shouldn't we, if they give pleasure?"
"There is more to life than self-indulgence, Zoltan."
"That's right, Priscilla, there is also sacrifice. Think of how happy you have made me by swallowing your pride and playing with my prick!"
"Only because you made me." A sullen look came over her lips, which s_on became a petulant pout.
"You look so cute when you're mad."
"The word is 'angry', you stupid foreigner!"
"Now, now, let's not be bigoted. Just because I wasn't born in Hog City doesn't mean I don't have the same feelings below my belt that all red-blooded, American males do. I like to fuck same as the next guy."
"Do you have to use such coarse terms to describe the breeding act? "
"Why not? Everybody else does."
"The trouble with you common people is that sometimes you can be so common," she sneered.
"Just because you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, little rich bitch, doesn't mean you know it all. I've been around a bit longer than you have and have done a few more things. Please forgive me if I sound presumptuous, but I know what makes people tick. You may try to ignore your sex drive, but it's going to be difficult, especially after I do a few more things to you."
"You wouldn't?"
"But I will." Again the evil smile oozed across his swarthy face.
She backed away, but it was no use. His hands gripped her thighs with a steely grip as he fell to his knees on the floor.
Hiking up her mini-dress, he laid bare her bikini panties of bright pink. "Pretty risqu' for a virgin, I should think."
"I'll have you know my grandmother sent me these for my last birthday."
"She did, did she? I guess the old girl's more of a swinger than I thought, which is more than I can say for your mother. She's a real stick-in-the-mud."
"How dare you criticize my mother, you cad!"
"Let's just put it this way, Priscilla, I think I know her better than you do, and I still don't like her. Nothing personal, it's just that frigid women give me the creeps."
"You have no right to say such things!"
"Even if they're true?"
"Servants are not supposed to be impudent. Do you know I could have your job for what you just said about my fair mother? "
"I doubt it. Your father agrees with me completely. Why else do you think he has so many pretty girls working for him? And if you think that's something, you should see his secretaries."
"How dare you imply my daddy has been unfaithful to his wife!"
"The truth always hurts."
"Why are you telling me these awful things? Hasn't our family treated you well since you came to this country-a poor refugee?"
"Who at least was his own man. Now I'm as much Harry's slave."
"Then why do you stay if you're so unhappy working for him?"
"Because bad as this job is, it pays better than anything else I could do, except maybe I could make more as gigolo."
"What's that?"
"A man who makes women, who can afford to pay him, happy. Usually he is young, she older. I'm afraid I'm getting a bit advanced in years for that. Guess I'd better stay on as chauffeur. At least that way I get to stay close to you, my lovely." He bent down and kissed her pale, dimpled belly.
"Too close, if you ask me."
"And I don't." He moved south of her sunken belly button. Stopping at the fringed top of her panties he tugged on them with all his might.
"You wouldn't dare?"
"Oh, wouldn't I?" He pulled the panties down just far enough for the timberline of her twat hairs to come into view, then savored their musky smell through distended nostrils.
Fearing for her virginity, Priscilla tried vainly to close her thighs from his carnal attack. Unfortunately, all she did was egg him on. Prying apart her thighs was like opening a clam shell to get at the goodies inside. (Only in this case the clam was bearded.)
Unable to restrain his curiosity, he again latched onto the panty fringe with his teeth and pulled the silken undergarment all the way down to her toes, the nails of which had recently been manicured.
While examining her flawless foot from close range, he was impressed with how clean it was, and told her so. Not a trace of toe jam marred the porcelain appendage to which he proudly pressed his lips; a podiatrist or fool fetishist would have gone crazy over it.
He moved upward, pausing for a cursory kiss of her well-turned ankle before caressing her calf fervently. All those ballet lessons had given her beautiful legs, fully the equal of Betty Grable. Nowadays, he thought, while nudging her beautiful kneecap with his nose, not many girls take the time to develop their gams, forgetting that often the difference between a good fuck and a bad one is a nice pair of legs. God, how I'd love to have these wrapped around my head!
Bracing herself for the worst, Priscilla bravely endured his upward assault on her virtue, but so afraid was she that every time his tongue moved northward her nails dug a trifle deeper into the broadcloth.
She was scared for two reasons: first, the obvious one of fearing for her virginity; second, because she found herself frightfully aroused by his lingual activities on her limb. Yes, aroused! For the first time in her life, she felt not in control of her body. Had it turned traitor to her? she wondered. Was it now in the control of alien hands?
By now he had traveled to the tremulous, white flesh of her inner thigh, traversing a route taken by no other man since the doctor who delivered her did, some time back, and the route had changed a great deal since then. The buttery skin began to quiver as his tongue neared the triangle of curly hair surrounding her virginal orifice.
Unable to resist the lure of the eager, inviting pussy any longer, he crossed the furry border and burrowed his head between her thighs. Before he knew what was happening, Priscilla closed her thighs with such force that it nearly popped his eardrums. Not knowing whether it was reflex or revenge, he nonetheless vented his anger on her mons veneris by biting into it with awesome force, causing untold pain in her pussy. A bloodcurdling scream escaped her lips as she retaliated by raining blows down upon his unprotected head.
"You filthy bugger, let go of me this instant, before you do irreparable damage to my vagina!"
She flailed at him ferociously and he loved it, biting her box all the harder so she"d continue. Only when her fingers found his pressure points did his grip loosen long enough for his teeth to disengage from her twat.
Lying sore on the floor, he looked up at her as she assiduously massaged her masticated muff. She had an angry, injured look on her flushed face, but it was obvious to him that she was wondrously turned-on. Having had a taste of her luscious cunt, he but craved more.
To recapture the lost territory of her tufted mound, he devised a battle plan. Knowing she could rub but not lick her injured orifice, he offered to help ease the pain. Her twat hurting something terrible, she was in no position to refuse his offer. In times of internal distress, there's nothing like succor from abroad to give relief, she mused as he orally massaged the injured area.
Spreading wide her alabaster thighs, he thrust the healing shard of his tongue between the puffy pink lips. She winced at first, then relaxed as he slavishly licked her wounds. The tight folds loosened with every ensuing lick. Soon the scented hole was covered in a sheen of sexual excitement. Forgotten was her fear of carnal penetration as she lay back and loved having her pussy licked by this hot-blooded Hungarian. The delicate, pink lips of her pretty slit parted to welcome his wondrous, wet tongue between her dewy folds.
She gave a small, excited croak as the tip of his velvet tongue sank deep into her seething cleft, causing the release of enormous amounts of love juice therein. Delicious little waves of lust gave way to bestial grunts of pleasure as he lapped her pussy into a veritable lather. Vibrant tremors wracked her warm little box as his tantalizing tongue brought her closer to her very first climax.
Gone were all the inhibitions regarding oral-genital sex, at least of a passive nature, as she gave herself fully to this frantic lapper of cunt who was causing her to go wild with rising lust.
Knowing she was close, he plied his tongue feverishly on her lubricious loins in a fervent attempt to put her over the top. Within moments after he speeded up his stroke, she began to spasm.
"Oh, God, I feel so good, please don't stop!" she screamed, as total excitement overtook her for the first, fantastic time. Unable to control herself, she dug her nails into his nape with such ferocity she drew blood. Nothing mattered but the marvelous thing that was happening to her Netherlands as she wallowed naughtily in a delirium of delight. Never before in her life had she felt so good!
Again she cried, but this time it was tears of joy that ran down her rosy cheeks.
"Zoltan," she gushed girlishly, "you're something else!"
"I am but your humble servant, attempting to do my job as well as I am able."
"Which is pretty darn good, if you ask me. Any time you want a testimonial, just ask me. Where did you ever learn to lick like that?"
"A gentleman does not discuss his past sexual exploits, Miss Priscilla. Let's just say that I've studied under some inspirational ladies."
"Please don't talk about your other girls when you're with me, Zoltan, it makes me jealous." She bent down and bussed his feverish brow to show her appreciation for his efforts.
But he was not to be satisfied in so cursory a fashion. He, having performed his altruistic duty, felt she must do-likewise. All that pussy licking had turned him on something terrible.
Taking advantage of her friendly disposition, he grabbed hold of her girlish head and rammed it down over the tip of his rampant pecker. Again she balked, but this time he was unrelenting.
"Either suck me off or suffocate, wench," he said as he held her neck in an iron grasp.
It was amazing how quickly she learned to breathe through her nose.
CHAPTER THREE
After the amateurish but spirited fellatio was brought to its messy conclusion, Zoltan contemplated dislodging Priscilla's maidenhead while diligently using his all purpose handkerchief to wipe tell-tale drops of come from her disgusted lips.
Unfortunately for him, she was in no mood for further sexual exploits.
"Take me home," she demanded, pointing for him to return to the front compartment. Not many girls care for the taste of come the first time out, especially when they swallow whole gobs of it. Zoltan had made certain she did, too, by holding her head down tight on his spurting cocktip. At the moment, she hated him for it.
Dutifully, he did as told, driving the sullied damsel home so that she would not be late for supper. He wanted to make a crack about how piecing might have spoiled her appetite, but after seeing her sullen look in the rear view mirror, decided he'd better not. Wait until she cools down, then she'll remember how good I ate her. We always forget the bad things and remember the good, he philosophized while pondering what great fun it would be to pop her cherry. Poking my big prick in her tight little cunt is going to be terrific!
Meanwhile, sulking in the back seat, Priscilla reflected on the day's happenings. In the course of one short afternoon she had been initiated to sexuality. What perverse things she had done! She felt consumed in shame, hoping the Good Lord would forgive her moral lapses even if her mother wouldn't. Best not breathe a word of what transpired between me and Zoltan to anyone, especially not my parents. Why, if father found out what that Hungarian has done to me, he'd shotgun him on the spot. Lord knows what they'd do to me. Probably pack me away to some private school where I'd never see the light of day until I turn twenty-one and be forced to wear a chastity belt twenty-four hours a day.
Taking a rain check on her ravishing had meant swallowing his studly pride for Zoltan. If it had been any other girl than Priscilla, he would have continued his carnal course and deflowered her no matter how loud she hollered. But with her being the boss's daughter and his job (and life) at stake, he knew better than to risk all for a quickie. What pleasure could he derive if he didn't take his time to get the job done right? Best wait until they could be alone together for more than a few minutes. To properly deflower a virgin took both time and patience.
During the course of the trip home, Priscilla took care to remove, as best she could, any ominous stains on the upholstery. If her father saw any pecker tracks he might get suspicious. Oh, why did I fall victim to the weakness of my flesh? she lamented. Once having sampled the heady pleasures of sex, she wanted more. In spite of knowing it wasn't nice !
Recalling the sweet taste of her cunt and the thrill of shooting off in her mouth, Zoltan found himself hard pressed to keep his cock down on the ride back to the Mannlicher mansion. He too wanted a return bout with the ravishing creature in the back seat. Maybe she needs a little breaking in, but she's got great potential. Seems she digs dominant men. Besides, like they say, the rougher you treat broads, the more they like you. If she refuses to fuck me, I'll just beat her until she does. Maybe even whip her-that might be fun.
Maybe he is a rat bastard, she reconsidered on recalling his superb cunnilingus, but he sure can eat pussy! I'd sure love to have him lick mine again. God, did that feel good!
Suddenly repentant on being seized with such libertine thoughts, she reflected, Christ, what have I sunk to? Oh, Lord, forgive me for having fallen into sinful ways. She bowed her head in silent prayer, but in the midst of it her mind meandered back to that scrumptious eat-out she'd experienced. Cod, am I beyond redemption? Can I help it if I like sex so much? You made me this way!
At the dinner table her daddy dutifully said grace, then tore into the food with his bare hands, displaying the same churlish manners he had had when first visiting Melissa, eighteen years ago. Since then he bad grown rich, fat, but not polished. Underneath his well-tailored exterior he was the same hick he had always been, and what's more, as he'd told his wife repeatedly after being berated for his boorishness, he was proud of it. Un-like some nouveau riche, he didn't believe in putting on airs. If only for this reason alone, Priscilla admired him. Insufferable as he sometimes was, at least he wasn't a phony.
"And what interesting things did you do today?" he asked his daughter, who on hearing the question dropped her fork.
"Is something the matter, Priscilla?" chimed in her mother. "Did your father startle you? Harold, how many times have I told you not to speak to this sensitive child in the same rude voice you use with farm hands?"
"And how many times have I told you my name's Harry, not Harold? like Harry Truman."
"But Harry's so undignified."
"Look, sister, if it's okay for the President of the United States, the greatest country in the world, to be called Harry, that's dignified enough for me. Sometimes I think you're a goddamned snob, Melissa, I really do."
"Harold, how dare you use profanity in front of this child!"
"Oh shit, Melissa, sometimes you give me such a pain! Fuck, if I can't talk like I want at my own table, how can I call myself a man? Can I help it if I had to quit school in the eighth grade to support my parents? You aren't exactly starving, are you?"
"You owe every iota of your financial success to my father, bless his dear, departed soul, who started the company you high-handedly named Mannlicher Meatpacking, after yourself."
"Why shouldn't I? After all, I do own fifty-one per cent of the stock."
"And my relatives and I the remainder, but then I suppose our family feelings don't count in the face of your egoism."
"As I recall, a big chunk of that stock is in trust for Priscilla, and her name's the same as mine-as is yours, if you'll acknowledge the fact of our marriage. So I don't know what you're bitching about, woman. Sure, I respect that fact that your father started the company, but it was I who built it into the large industrial complex it is today, and don't you forget it!"
"Don't raise your voice with me, Harold Mannlicher!"
"It's HARRY, how many times do I have to tell you!" He tore loose the cloth napkin he'd stuffed in his collar and threw it on the table, storming out of the room with a beet red face. "I've got to go down to the plant," he mumbled as he grabbed his coat and walked out the door he slammed shut after him.
Priscilla was glad she didn't have to tell him what interesting things she'd done that day. Her mother, as always, ignored Harry's outburst and returned to finishing her vichyssoise in silence. But then, mused Priscilla, she's always silent. Already I miss the sound of Daddy's slurping. Why couldn't I have been blessed with a mother the equal of him?
Late that night Harry came home drunk and found himself locked out by his spiteful spouse. Although he pounded repeatedly on the front door and bellowed threats at the top of his lungs, his wife remained adamant.
"Why don't you go out to the pigpens and sleep with your own kind!" she sneered, after tossing a bucket of cold water on his head from a second story window. "After your boorish behavior at the supper table, I'd say that's where you belong. And now so inebriated you can't even walk straight!"
"Don't bandy big words at me, woman? and besides that, I'm not drunk," he said, just before tripping over a flagstone and falling flat on his face.
"Serves you right, you rummy!" she yelled, then slammed shut the window and went to bed.
"Why did I ever get sucked into marrying that insufferable bitch?" asked Harry rhetorically to the chirring cicadas. "I was much happier when I was a humble hog butcher than I am as a fat cat. Shucks, I don't even fit in with all those other big shots. like my wife, they're all a bunch of snobs. Why did I ever leave the farm and come to this frigging town? Things were so much simpler back there. I sure miss it. Maybe I ought to sell out, get rid of my wife. and move back. If only I could. Why in blazes did I ever let that real estate fella talk me into turning most of it into a fucking subdivision? Screw the whole fucking world of business! It's so full of back stabbing and bullshit that it stinks. I don't care if business did make me rich, I miss my little farm. I shoulda married one of those country girls I used to fuck in the hayloft instead of that frigid excuse for a woman I did. She ruined my fucking life, she did. Goddamn right she did. "YOU HEAR THAT, MELISSA?" he yelled. "YOU RUINED MY FUCKING LIFE! What good is a woman if she won't fuck, huh?" he again asked the cicadas, who continued, to chirr him on.
Suddenly maudlin, he started to cry as he realized how profoundly unhappy he actually was. As a sop to his sorrow, he took out his silver hip flask and drained it of bourbon, then threw the empty container through his wife's bedroom window. Before she could retaliate, he staged a hasty retreat to the hog pavilion, where many times he had spent the night after antagonizing his spouse. Lately it was getting to the point where he preferred sleeping next to a nice, warm sow than to his icy wife. At least in the pigpens he felt appreciated. He climbed over the railing, picked out a nice plump sow and passed out beside her, a blissful look on his rubicund face.
In the morning, he made his way back to the mansion proper to find that his wife was still pissed. Inquiring why, he heard her reply that the night previous he had finally gone too far. "Never before then had I gauged the extent of your cruelty. Saying such vile things within earshot of the servants, and what's worse, our innocent daughter, was inexcusable behavior on your behalf. For all these years I've kept saying to myself, 'maybe he'll shape up and become a gentleman like my father, but you haven't, and you never will!"
"Woman, I think your memory needs refreshing. Your old man was made of the same crude clay as me, and that's why he took to me like he did. I won't deny that he was a man, for it took one to start up a company in the midst of the Depression, but to say he was genteel would be a gross wrong to his rowdy memory. Even if he was your daddy, he was one wild mother. He sure got his share, even after he was married."
"I don't want to hear your slanders against his dear departed soul! He was a saint of a man."
"Who you hated in his lifetime!"
"Whom is the word, not who, you illiterate. Ami no matter what you say, I loved my father."
"If you did, you sure had a funny way of showing it. You treated him even worse than you do me, and you treat me like dirt."
"Which is better than you deserve, you blackguard!"
"I know I have my failings, Melissa, but like most men, I'm only human."
"No, you're not, Harold Mannlicher. You belong to some lower species of animal, perhaps even the hog family."
"I've heard enough of your insults, you hear? I'm sick up to here of your looking down your nose at me. If you think I'm so scummy, why did you ever consent to marry me, huh?"
"For eighteen years I've asked myself the same question, over and over again. I guess it's because my father was so insistent that I say yes."
"So, it was his decision and not yours that you marry me!"
"You mean you actually didn't know? I guess you're even thicker than I thought."
"You may think I'm mad, but before we got married I actually was in love with you."
"You don't have to lie with me, Harold, I can see right through you."
"Honest, I really was. At the time I thought you were the most beautiful girl in Hog City."
"There's no doubt about it. I was."
"Even your vanity I found amusing. You were everything I'd ever hankered for, with your porcelain skin and polite ways. Before your father turned me into a success, I never thought I'd ever even get to meet the-likes of you."
"You undoubtedly wouldn't have. You were a crude, churlish hick with not a dab of social polish, and you still are. I must confess, however, that I found you somewhat more vital than my other beaus. Although they had better table manners than you, they weren't nearly as well built."
"I was one tough mother back then, believe thee me. All that plowing and pig killing really put on the muscle."
"like the good life has put on the fat, eh?" She poked his enormous paunch with her forefinger to make her point.
"I guess I should go on a diet these days. Say, where's Priscilla? I've got something to tell her, and Zoltan too."
"She should be down for breakfast directly. As for Zoltan, he's washing the car. What is it you have to tell them that is so important?"
"Wait until they get here so I won't have to repeat myself. Gosh, I got so drunk last night I plum forgot."
"Forgot what?"
"Here she comes now. Call Zoltan."
Before the assembled trio he said, "Last night when I was down at Muldoon's Saloon, I was told by certain persons in the know that our former nemesis, the plug ugly who once threatened our fair Priscilla with kidnapping, is not only back in these parts but bragging he's going to pull it off this time. Apparently he thought of little else during all those years he spent in prison. Why he was released on parole I'll never know, because he's certainly as dangerous now as the day he was arrested."
"Harold, that was thirteen years ago, and even then he admitted he just got drunk and made a few threatening phone calls."
"He also wrote us notes."
"Look, we both know Hognose Hughes is and always has been a notorious braggart. I don't think we have to worry about him now, just as I didn't think we had a thing to worry about then. You're making a mountain out of a mole hill, Harold, just like you always do. Besides, with Zoltan to protect her, how can anything possibly happen to our Priscilla?"
"Hognose used to be the toughest hog butcher in the plant. He's got a terrible temper, and for some reason he resents our family. I'd say we do have something to worry about, and for that reason I want Zoltan to carry a weapon at all times.
"That Luger you got, boy, might be all right for winging rabbits, but to bring down the-likes of Hognose Hughes you're going to need something bigger. I bought me a new Magnum .44 last week that might just do the trick. Think you can use it?"
"After a certain amount of practice, yes. But are you sure this Hughes individual is serious in his intentions?"
"Serious or not, he's sure to be sore at me after spending the last thirteen years in prison because I signed the complaint against him."
"In that case, Harold," suggested his wife, "I'd say you were the one needing protection, not Priscilla."
"Don't you see, Melissa, the best way he can get at me is through my daughter. He knows how much I worship her. The worst thing he could do to me is mistreat her, and if he does I'll tear him limb from limb!"
"Calm down, Harold, before you have a coronary! If this Hughes gentleman is as stout a fellow as you say, you'd best leave his punishment to others who are, shall we say, less portly." Again she patted his ample paunch.
Pushing away her patronizing palm, he boomed, "I don't care if it does kill me, I'll fight my own fights!"
"With Zoltan's help, of course."
"Someone has to protect Priscilla, and I can't do it all the time. I've got pressing duties at the plant. Besides, that's why I originally hired him, back in '56."
Priscilla, who until now had remained silent during the conversation, asked her daddy why this Hughes fellow was so bad.
"Because he is, that's why. Some people are just born ornery, and he's one of them."
"And you're another?" added his wife.
"Ever since I've known him he's been a griper, always complaining about something."
"Maybe he had indigestion," interjected Melissa, who knew the adverse effect dyspepsia sometimes had on people's dispositions, (i.e. her husband's).
"More-likely piles. But the main reason he's so belligerent, I think, is his looks. He's not called "Hognose' for nothing, I assure you. He's got a snout on him that look's uncannily like a pig's. Nobody said much about it until he went to work as a hog butcher. That's when he got his nickname."
"Who gave it to him?"
"I did, my dear, and he's hated me for it ever since. This, plus the fact that he remained a hog butcher while I advanced through the corporate ranks, is the reason he resents me. His whole life has been a failure, while mine has been an unmitigated success. Poor Hognose has been a loser on all counts; he flunked out of school, struck out repeatedly with girls, was always getting fired and finally got his ass thrown in jail."
"Thanks to you, Harold."
"Would you rather have your daughter raped or killed by that nut? I keep telling you he's a dangerous fellow, especially now that he's been in prison. You know how men are when they get out of there. They're much more animal than human. He's a desperate man, Melissa, who's capable of anything."
"Personally, I think you're exaggerating the whole thing. After all, where did your information come from, eh? Muldoon's Saloon is hardly the F.B.I."
"Awright, don't believe me, but when your daughter ends up dead at the hands of that madman, you'll think different!"
"Honest, Harold, you'd just as soon have her die just so you could rub it in for the rest of my life. I care just as much about Priscilla as you do, probably more, but that doesn't mean I get hysterical every time some misanthrope makes idle threats against her."
"This is no idle threat. I assure you. Hognose is fully capable of kidnapping our little girl. After all, any man that has slit the throats of ten thousand pigs is bound to be a bit warped inside, especially if he looks like a hog himself."
"You used to do the same thing and it doesn't seem to have affected you any."
"I'm not so sure, Melissa. Some people have said I've succeeded in business because of my killer instinct."
"Maybe it's you we'd better watch out for, not
Hognose."
"Mock me if you will, Melissa, but I believe Priscilla is in real danger, and I intend to take preventive measures to see that nothing happens to her."
CHAPTER FOUR
"And if Hognose should rear his ugly head around here while I'm at work," said Harry as he walked briskly out the front door, "Remember to shoot first and ask questions afterward. He's no man to mess with, especially if he's aroused."
There's that word again, thought Priscilla as she watched her father's portly profile disappear down the flagstone walk to where Zoltan was waiting beside the Cadillac. After hearing about how dangerous a man Hognose was, she was dying to meet him. I bet he's got even a bigger one than Zoltan, she mused, her mind suddenly seized with erotic memory.
"Now that your father's gone, Priscilla, I've something to tell you," said her mother, thereby shattering the raunchy reverie of her teenage daughter.
"Yes, Mother," answered her daughter perfunctorily, though her mind was obviously elsewhere.
"Over your father's objections-he would just as soon you remain a hick all your life-I have decided that it's about time you acquired some social polish. We've kept you cooped up in this backwoods town for too long as it is."
My sentiments exactly, Mother dear. Could she be coming around to my way of thinking? Does my stir craziness show that much?
"Therefore, so you can learn how to behave in polite society and meet other nice girls, I've decided to send you to a finishing school in the east for the fall term. Now, I know you have never been away from home, except for our once taking you to Lincoln, but I think the experience will be good for you. Travel can be very broadening, and it's about time you met somebody besides Zoltan. Not that there's anything wrong with Zoltan, it's just that he's not from our class."
"Mother, you don't have to be so snobbish."
"Call me what you may, but I know that marriages between different classes rarely work out."
"I guess you and father prove that, eh?"
"Don't be impudent, child! Your father and I may have our differences, but at least we've stayed together for almost twenty years."
Twenty years too long, if you ask me. You two should have gotten a divorce long ago.
"And what makes you think I'm so interested in Zoltan?"
"I didn't say you were, Priscilla. But I've seen the way he looks at you. In case you don't realize it, you're not a child any more. You're growing up, and that's why I've decided to send you away to school. I know you'll miss Zoltan and your private tutors, but it'll be good for you to make new friends. If you don't, you're liable to stifle in this hick town. Please don't get upset, Priscilla, because it's for your own good that you leave Hog City for a while."
"You'll get no argument from me on that, Mother, I'm in complete agreement with you on that score. The only trouble is, I don't have any clothes to wear. You know how snappy those eastern girls dress. I don't want to look like a hick when I arrive at wherever this school is you're sending me.
"In a small town in upstate New York. The school overlooks the Hudson River. It's a very beautiful setting. Yes, I agree with you that you'll need a new wardrobe, and that's why I'm sending you to Lincoln today. As soon as Zoltan returns, I'm going to have him drive you there. You can use our charge account at Brandeis' and I'll give you five hundred dollars for expenses."
"Just to go to Lincoln? Why, that's less than fifty miles away!"
"It's better to have restroom much money than too little, my dear."
"I guess you're right, Mother, but it still sounds extravagant to me."
"Of course it's extravagant, compared to what others less fortunate can afford. But there's plenty more where that came from, so please don't worry about spending it. Besides, it's your money. All the income from your trust fund had been banked regularly, and when you turn eighteen you can spend it as you see fit. Until then, however, I and your father decide."
"You mean I'm rich, Mother? In my own right?"
"Yes, but don't let it go to your head, and another thing, don't tell Zoltan. If he finds out he may try to run off with you. He wouldn't be the first Hungarian chauffeur to do so. That sort of thing happens every day, sometimes to the best families. I don't want it to happen to ours, understand? Don't get me wrong, Priscilla, I think Zoltan's a competent and charming individual, but I don't think he's the man you should marry."
"Who said anything about marriage?"
"I guess, like your father with Mister Hughes, I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. I doubt very much that you'd be the kind of girl to run off with her chauffeur. That usually happens to only wealthy wallflowers no one would pay any attention to if they weren't rich. You are pretty enough to turn the head of a prince, Priscilla. Even if you weren't wealthy you could make it. You are a very beautiful girl, in cape you haven't noticed, you really are."
"Mother, all mothers think their daughters are beautiful, even if they aren't. I'm just ordinary, and besides, I'm too skinny to interest boys."
"I'm not talking about boys, Priscilla, I'm talking about men. Boys are dirty-minded brats-the less you have to do with them the better. Men, on the other hand, are more mature and know how to treat a young lady properly. They are also more secure, both financially and otherwise."
"But I thought you didn't like men, Mother."
"I don't, but I realize it's better to be an unhappily married woman than a lonely old maid. A woman alone has no position in society. She needs a man or she is nothing. You are what your husband makes you, Priscilla, and don't you forget it!"
"Don't gel so excited, Mother! But really, is social position everything? I mean, isn't happiness important too? As far as I'm concerned, I'd rather be a happy hick than a sad socialite."
"You think you would, but you're too young to realize what's important. The fairy tale version of living happily ever after is, I'm afraid, a cruel hoax. Life isn't meant to be easy and it isn't, especially when you must share it with someone else. But bad as being married is, going it alone is far worse, so I suggest you think about finding an appropriate mate sometime in the near future."
"But, Mother, I'm only seventeen. Isn't that a little early to be settling down?"
"I wasn't much older than you when I married your father. If you don't get married, you'll never be able to escape living under the shadow of your father."
"But isn't that kind of like marrying on the rebound?
Going from the frying pan into the fire? After all, if what you say is true, I'll be leaving this place next month for finishing school."
"Only until your father finds a way of getting you back to Hog City. You know how he views the East Coast, especially New York."
"Sodom and Gomorrah, right?"
"According to his hick way of thinking, yes. To him, even Omaha is beyond redemption. A more confirmed provincial I've never met. Do you know that although he runs a hundred-million-dollar corporation, he's never once been out of this state? I'd call that unnatural behavior for a businessman in this day and age."
"Maybe he's happy right here in Hog City."
"The funny thing is, he isn't. He's admitted to me that the only time he was happy was when he lived back on his little farm, and that's only in retrospect. I sincerely doubt if he's every been happy, what with his dyspepsia and hard-driving ways. Although he's been successful, he really doesn't fit in anywhere except down at Muldoon's; farmers hate him because they think him a turncoat, while other businessmen brand him a hick. It's no wonder he turns to spirits so much. You see, child, although I disapprove of his profligate ways, I fully understand the reasons he is like he is."
"Then why don't you try to change him?"
"Ever try to teach an old dog new tricks?" she asked. "That's about how easy it'd be to transform your father. I'm afraid he's too stuck in his ways to change at this late date."
"And what about you, Mother? Are you happy?"
"True happiness is a rare and fleeting thing that few people ever possess, even for a short while. It is enough if we endure without a great deal of sorrow, my child.
Measured by that standard, our family hasn't done too badly. Although we have our difficulties, we are still rich, white, Protestant, and in good health. What more could we ask for? I'd say we're pretty well off, compared to most people."
"I think we could do a whale of a lot better, if you want my opinion, Mother."
"Ah, the enthusiasm of youth! I, too, once felt like you do, that anything is possible if we try hard enough. I suppose that's the voice of inexperience speaking. Wait until you've lived as long as I have, Priscilla, then you'll think more realistically about what is possible in the short span of the three score and ten years allotted to us by the Lord."
"But Mother, you're not even forty yet. How can you have given up hope already? You've still many good years ahead of you in which to accomplish what you want, you really have."
"Priscilla, I hate to say this, but my life was over the day I married your father. Before that dismal date I was filled with hope for the future, hopelessly in love with a handsome, talented man of immense charm. Unfortunately, Lothario was not the man my father chose, and like all of us he had his weaknesses. Father found his price, paid it, and that was the last I ever saw of him. The one love of my life was gone forever. All my hopes were dashed by the cold hard cash your grandfather used to buy off my boyfriend. Can you imagine a crueler thing for him to do? Well, I'm about to do it. Priscilla-" she put her hand on her daughter's shoulder, "-Harry Mannlicher is not your real father. It was Lothario Lochinvar, not him, who planted the seed in me that produced you. Why else do you think you have such fine, aristocratic features instead of the stout peasant torso of your father?"
"Mother, what are you saying? You must be mad!"
"I had to tell you before you went away to school, perhaps never to return, except on the arm of a prince."
"And you talk about me believing in fairy tales!"
"I know I sound like a cynic most of the time, Priscilla, but what I really want is for you to find the happiness I missed by marrying your father, I mean Harry."
"As far as I'm concerned. Mother, he's still my father." Tears formed in her eyes. "Maybe not in fact, but in every other way he is. What you have told me only explains the way I look. In every other way I take after Harry, who raised me since the day I was born."
"And I suppose I get none of the credit for your having turned out the way you are?"
"Yes, Mother, you do. Because of your selfish devotion to a missing lover, a spineless weakling who ran out on you-a real man would have remained no matter what the consequences-you've denied Harry the one thing he's needed most, companionship, and I don't just mean the hand holding kind either. I mean in the bedroom, where it really counts!"
"How can you say such a thing? You, my very own daughter, calling me cruel!"
"But you most definitely were, Mother dear. Surely you must know how strong the sex drive is in man? To deny him much-needed release was both a mental and physical torture that as far as I'm concerned was inexcusable!"
"And just how do you know so much about the sex drive in men? Have you been playing around with the boys in town? Or maybe with Zoltan, eh? To tell the truth, I've been tempted by him myself on more than one occasion. like Lothario, he's dark and handsome, and un-like your father, he's imperially thin. Sometimes I think he must have some royal blood in him, he looks so aristocratic. I bet he's fantastic in bed. Several times I've heard servant girls discussing how divine he diddles. Yes, I could see why you'd be tempted by him."
"Honest, Mother," she lied, "All I know about the male sex drive is what I've learned from books."
"Smutty ones, you mean. Probably got them from your father. He goes in for that sort of thing. Also pictures of nudie cuties in lewd poses."
"He wouldn't have to if you'd let him ball you now and then."
"Priscilla, how dare you speak to me-your mother-in such a vulgar way!"
"It's the truth, Mother, and you know it!"
"Would you want to go to bed with him if you were in my shoes?"
"If I were his wife, I'd consider it my duty."
"Then you'd probably perish in the line of duty, my dear. Have you any idea what it feels like having two hundred and fifty pounds lying on top of you?"
"It wouldn't be so unpleasant if he wasn't just lying there."
"Priscilla, you have been playing around with Zoltan! Only a girl who's had experience would talk like you do. Maybe you'll get pregnant-that'll teach you!"
"like it did you?"
"I'll let that pass."
"If you don't believe I'm still virgo intacto, Mother, you can have me examined by a reputable physician."
"In my day, a midwife was considered sufficient for the purpose. Since you're so insistent about your virtue, I'll take your word for it. But since you are, by your own admission, inexperienced in the art of lovemaking, all conclusions you make regarding it are obviously erroneous."
"You've gotten so rusty, I'd hardly call you a current expert in these matters. How long has it been since you've been balled, eh? Not since your wedding night, right? Please correct me if I'm wrong, Mother dear!" Her words dripped sarcasm.
"You'll not take that tone with me, you impudent child! Why, I've half a mind to spank you for your sassiness."
"By your own admission, Mother, I'm no longer a child, so you can forget about putting me over your knee. You know what you're behaving like, Mother? like a horny woman, that's what!"
"My personal life is none of your concern. I'm sorry I ever started this conversation, I really am."
"You ought to get laid, Mother, it'd do you wonders, it really would. I'm sure if you'd ask him, and maybe slip him a c-note or two, he'd plank you. Though as to whether he'd enjoy it is doubtful, you being so out of practice and all."
"You have gone too far, girl, you really have. As your Mother, I should be treated with respect."
"Only if you deserve it, and from my way of thinking you don't."
"And why not, if I may be so bold as to ask?"
"Because of the way you've treated Father, that's why!"
"Because I cut him off after our wedding night? You know what might have happened if I hadn't? Fornication might well have injured your fetus. How would you like to have been born deformed, eh? A freak for the rest of your life, and all because in a moment of weakness I gave in to the pleasures of the flesh!"
"That's ridiculous and you know it, Mother. You resisted his advances because you wanted to punish him and your father for what they had done to you. You couldn't have been that pregnant when you got married, or he would have noticed. I wasn't any fetus, I was still an embryo when you got married. So please don't tell me you abstained because of any concern on my behalf. You did it out of selfish, vengeful motives that you should have gotten over long ago, but didn't. You certainly are a grudge holder, aren't you' Or was that Lothario fella so hot a lay that you still miss him?"
"Yes, he was, and I do still miss him," replied her mother, her eyes downcast in shame.
"Maybe you ought to try some of daddy's domestic stuff? You might even grow to like it."
"I did, once, and found him like oatmeal."
"What do you mean?"
"Done in three minutes." She giggled.
"Surely you can't judge a man's lovemaking ability on the basis of one sorry performance. "Give him a second chance, will you, I'm sure he"s improved, even if you haven't. All these years that you've been lying fallow, he's been surreptitiously playing the field."
"He has, has he? And just how do you know this?"
"Zoltan told me."
"And what else did that tattle tale relate to you?" Now it was her voice that was dripping sarcasm.
"That he didn't like you."
"And just why doesn't he like me?"
"Because he said he doesn't like frigid women."
"And what makes him think I'm frigid?"
"That's the impression he got from Father."
"Who has a loud mouth and a high impression of himself. Well, I'll have you know I am not frigid, and you can tell Zoltan that I'm prepared to prove it to him."
"But not to Daddy?"
"Tell me truthfully, daughter, which man would you choose?"
"Zoltan, but then, I'm not married either. You owe
Daddy the duty to wallow with him."
"And that's just what it'd be like-wallowing with a pig. He's so fat it's repulsive."
"And if he lost weight would you change your mind?"
"Not-likely. He has some character defects that are even more repulsive than his flab."
"like what?"
"like getting drunk, running around with other women, and smoking smelly cigars."
"All of which, save the last, were directly caused by you failing to perform your marital duty in the bedroom. He wouldn't be getting plastered all the time or planking secretaries if he had a reason to come home."
"But he does. You're here," she said smugly.
"You want me to go to bed with him?"
"That isn't what I meant, daughter. If he was a responsible parent, he'd see the baleful affect his extracurricular activities have on you."
"You're still side-stepping your responsibility for his behavior, Mother. All his wrongdoing, if it is that, was caused by you and your selfishness. Why don't you share what you have with him?"
"like I have my fortune?"
"Let's not bring money into this. You know as well as I do that he increased what you owned ten fold by his efforts."
"Father would have done the same, had he lived."
"I doubt it. Although Grandpa was a shrewd devil, he wasn't half the hard-boiled businessman Daddy is. Sure he would have succeeded, but not as much. Daddy didn't take anything from you that he didn't give back a lot more."
"Just the same, I gave him his start."
"Your father did, you mean."
"Touch'"
"Don't look so sullen, Mother, I'm not trying to make you suffer. Surely you've suffered enough already, not having enjoyed sex for the past seventeen years. I don't know how you did it, to tell the truth. Was it hard?"
"Extremely, but I'd vowed never to give in after that once, which was needed to consummate the marriage. Otherwise, it might have been annulled, and you'd have been born illegitimate. To continue carnal relations with Harry would have been an insult to Lothario."
"Don't you think seventeen years is a long time to have carried the torch for someone who cared so little for you he chose cash instead?"
"We all have our weaknesses." Tears formed in her eyes.
"Which we should try to transcend. He didn't. Maybe you can."
"And what is my weakness?"
"For worthless poets like Lothario, who was undoubtedly one of those gold-diggers you were just warning me about."
"How dare you make such an unfounded allegation!"
"Oh, yeah? Which did he ultimately choose, you or the money?"
"The money, but that doesn't mean he didn't love me."
"Only that he loved money more."
"I never thought of it that way. Could I have been wrong all these years? Could I?"
"There's no doubt of it in my mind. Love obviously blinded you to his true colors, which were shown when your daddy dangled that money in front of him."
"And I showed mine when Lothario dangled that big dick in front of me. Oh, how I miss his humping!"
"At least give Daddy a second chance, if only for my sake, please?"
CHAPTER FIVE
After eliciting a promise from her mother to reconsider her rigid attitude regarding marital relations, Priscilla departed for Lincoln in the family limousine, first warning Zoltan that she would stand for no further "monkey business," whatever that meant.
Not once did she speak to him on the way there, and very little during the course of her shopping spree. Everything that caught her imagine in the way of clothes she bought, be it a sheer bikini panty for eighty-nine cents or a pair of sable pants for fifteen hundred dollars. What the heck, the parents were paying for it, weren't they? seemed to be her prevailing attitude as she blitzed Brandeis and other expensive department stores. Greedy sales clerks with rapt smiles and distended nostrils steered her toward high-priced garments she bought instantly. The customer of their dreams had suddenly appeared out of the hinterlands to pad their profit margin considerably for the month of August. Both sides, however, thoroughly enjoyed the binge. They loved to sell, and she loved to buy. It was as simple as that.
Zoltan ambled after her as she went hog wild over clothes, faintly disgusted with the whole thing. Accompanying someone who can afford anything on a shopping spree can be most exasperating for one who cannot. Why does she have it when I don't? was the thought running through his brain, coterminous with: How come she's so cold with me when yesterday she seemed hot to trot? Could it be my breath? No, I used mouthwash this morning. Maybe it was something I said, or did during the course of our carnal escapade yesterday. Perhaps I should apologize, but for what?
Occasionally, out of curiosity perhaps, she would wave a costly item of merchandise under his nose and ask his opinion of it. Usually he would nod his head and mumble "very nice" or something equally noncommittal. As if she cares what I really think, the little snob. Ell fix her fanny on the way home, just you wait and see!
The day's purchases complete, at a cost of some ten thousand dollars-all on Daddy's account naturally. (After all, he could well afford the expense. She had Zoltan head the heavily loaded limousine for home, first making a cursory tour of the town during the course of which she saw such highlights as the state capital and the Hotel Cornhusker.
It was during the journey back to Hog City that Zoltan made up his mind. Watching Priscilla bend over in her ultra short mini-dress all day had been exasperating indeed, and now seeing the same salacious sight through the ubiquitous rear view mirror, was more than an ordinary mortal could endure. Zoltan, being partial to the pleasures of the flesh, was no exception. Even if earlier she had given him the cold shoulder. God knows why after his splendid performance the day previous-he desired her with every ounce of his horny, Hungarian soul. So affected was he by her delicious beauty that his driving became erratic. Several times he had close calls because he let his eyes linger a shade too long on the rear view mirror and strayed across the center line. Better watch that, he mused, after an angry "semi" driver blew his air horn at him, or I might get myself killed.
"Zoltan, will you please pay attention to what you're doing?" she shrieked at him like an angry gull. Everybody seemed to be angry with him. Even he was angry with himself. How can I call myself a man if I let a little girl boss me around?
Vowing to restore his sagging virility, he searched the side of the road for a place to ravish her. I'll teach her to treat me like I'm a piece of shit, you bet I will! I'm just as good as she is, even better! She doesn't know what it's like to suffer I do. I'll show her she can't look down her nose at me, I really will!
"Zoltan. why are you turning off the road? This isn't the way to Hog City. Zoltan, will you please answer me this instant!"
"Shut your fucking mouth, bitch!"
"If you think you'll gel away with this, buster, you're sadly mistaken! Not only will I have you fired, I'll sic the cops on you for rape!"
"Sure you will," he sneered, a superior look on his face.
"Just try me."
"I fully intend to." He slammed on the brakes, backed up with squealing tires and turned down a side road.
Here we go again, she sighed. Why did I ever give into him yesterday? It only encouraged him to go further. Mother is right, he is a vile seducer. Never can trust these foreigners, you really can't.
Parking the plush lime in a deserted spot, Zoltan leaped outside and made his way to the rear door. Just like yesterday, it was locked. Priscilla sneered at him through the tinted glass which he was on the verge of breaking, he was so frustrated. Despite all the fatuous blandishments he heaped on her. she remained adamant.
"No, a thousand times no!" she mouthed at him silently, from the other side of the window.
Then he realized what a ninny he had been. Of course! Why didn't I think of it before? I'm the chauffeur, am I not? Then I have the necessary keys to unlock this damned door. He sauntered casually back to the front seat, sat down and slyly removed the key ring from the dashboard, thinking, Priscilla will think I have given up, but I haven't.
Then, moving with lightening speed, he rushed back and shoved the key in the lock before she could countermand him by keeping her finger firmly on the inside lock. Before she knew what was happening, he had the door open and was dragging her outside.
"Unhand me, you, you HUNGARIAN!" Under the circumstances, it was the best she could come up with.
Ignoring her outburst, he dragged her through the dust until he found an appropriate patch of grass. There he hurled her on her back and fell upon her with frantic affection, covering her with kisses of conquest.
Desperately she fought him, but to no avail. His blood was up and nothing short of a battery of Russian tanks could stop him. To strip her of her armor, he ripped off her mini-dress, which was appropriately of a virginal white. Underneath she wore a training bra and sheer bikini panties. Through the latter he could sec her blonde puff. The sight was almost more than he could endure, she was so delectable. He had to have her, even if they sent him to the penitentiary for thirty years. Skinny as she was, she was the sexiest piece of tail he had ever seen.
So scared was she that she found she couldn't even scream, instead emitting a series of squeaks he found rather amusing.
"Is that your mating call I hear issuing from your lips, my lovely? It's no wonder you're still a virgin if that's all the louder you can call your lover." He smiled wickedly, obviously savoring his imminent triumph over the quivering girl as he unbuttoned the fly of his pants.
Standing over her prone torso with stiff cock at the ready, he waved it at her face; the series of shadows cast across her eyes proved almost mesmerizing.
Seeing the way she stared at his undulating dick, he said, "So you want it, do you? Soon your request shall be granted, my lovely, very soon."
He got down on his knees, blew her a kiss, and began the blissful project of her seduction. First he tore off her panties, then her training bra until she lay bare and shivering on the squashed-down blades of tall grass. An occasional burr in her behind caused her to tremble with a combination of discomfort and fright.
"Oh, please, Zoltan, won't you reconsider? I'll give you anything as soon as I turn eighteen. I promise not to tell Daddy about this, I really do!"
"Shut up, cunt, before I hit you!" He raised his hand in a threatening gesture until she was silent. Then he took hold of her by the neck and brought her lips flush against his. He kissed her fervently, thrusting the stiffened shard of his tongue far down her frightened throat. Although she resisted at first, soon she was kissing him back, their liquid tongues entwined in exciting interplay.
He broke off to gloat, "So you like it, eh, little girl?"
She answered him with a spit in the eye. As he was wiping it off with his ubiquitous handkerchief, he wryly remarked, "It's good to sec you have spirit, Priscilla, it means you have a strong sex drive. You are aroused, no?" He touched her tittie, teasing the tiny, rosebud nipple between his thumb and forefinger until it grew rigid, then bent down and bussed the luscious carmine tip with tender affection. Her slender chest began heaving deeply as he bit ever so gently against the risen nipple.
He moved downward to the snowy whiteness of her silky, smooth tummy, describing the delicious perimeter of her navel with his avaricious tongue, the lip of which sank briefly therein before departing for her nether lands.
Grasping her girlish thighs, he pried them apart and then planted his puckered lips full upon her luscious pussy, the pink surface of which already shone with a glistening sheen of arousal.
While printing a long, hot, lingering kiss on her moist, coral lips, he savored the musky smell of her muff. The best perfumes of Paris couldn't compare with the erotic effect of the heavy odor across her pussy. Zoltan found himself frightfully aroused by its salty-sweet taste and intoxicating aroma.
Equally excited beyond measure by his tongue's proximity to her pussy, Priscilla followed the time-honored advice to rape victims-she laid back and enjoyed it. Realizing that further resistance was futile, she entwined her pliant limbs around Zoltan's neck and wouldn't let go until satisfied.
Near drowning in her lubricious loins, he hurried to bring her hot, wet box to a speedy orgasm before his breath ran out. Feverishly, he flailed at her furry female parts with the tip of his skilled tongue, turning her on so much she mewed like a cat in heat. Soon her steaming cunt began to contract wildly as climax came in a delightful series of spasms. The lip-washed loins exploded with unleashed passion that caused a heavy discharge of slime into the little love slit that Zoltan sucked so hungrily. How he loved the taste of cunt grease!
If only I could season my food with this flavor, he mused, I'd gorge myself until I grew as fat as Harry.
The cunnilingus a fail accompli, now that Priscilla's climax was complete, Zoltan smacked his lips and girded his loins for the deflowering ahead. Popping that cherry out of there wasn't going to be easy; not that it ever is. Every one he'd ever encountered had proven stubborn. He had several scars on the end of his prick as a result of removing some of them. He particularly remembered one Hungarian virgin whose maidenhead was so monstrous he had to use a broomstick to beat his way through it. He hoped Priscilla's would be easier to dislodge. Just the same, he whacked his dick a few times to firm it up for the endeavor.
Up until the moment he moved its tip against her tiny love slit, Priscilla didn't think he was going to go through with it.
"You're not really going to rape me, are you, Zoltan."
"Not if you relax, I'm not."
"And just what do you mean by that remark."
"It's only rape if you object, and after I ram you a few times. I don't think you're going to, girl."
"And why not?"
"Because you're going to like it, that's why." He smiled, then edged his cocktip into her dewy cleft. After making certain it was aligned right, he began battering away at the firm membrane inside.
"Hey, that hurts!" she protested.
"And it's going to hurt a lot more before we're through." He increased the tempo of his rammings, thereby reducing the poor virgin to tears.
"Soon they'll be tears of joy," he said, after feeling the cherry budge a bit.
"Oh, I hate you, hate you!" she screamed, at the same time beating him about the ears.
"Hit me all you want, girl, I love a pussycat with spirit." He endured her onslaught with a satisfied smile on his salacious lips. Holding her firm, white ass-cheeks in fast embrace, he tore into her tender flesh until he could feel it rend. She uttered a faint shriek of physical anguish as her cherry gave a little, begging him to discontinue the painful project.
"I'll deflower you if it kills me!" he vowed. Once having embarked on such a delightful endeavor, he wasn't about to abandon it at the first sign of adversity. He knew from experience that pain often precedes pleasure, especially when it came to lovemaking. Bracing himself against a nearby log, he lunged into her tiny slit with all his might, causing agonizing pain both to his prick and to her brutalized box. She shrieked for what seemed an interminable time, so awful was the pain emanating from her half-penetrated pussy. It bothered him so much he slapped her face repeatedly until she stopped.
"You're killing me with that goddamned cock of yours!"
"I assure you, very few girls have died from being deflowered, my dear," he said, seeking to allay her fears. Even so, he was beginning to wonder if something weren't organically amiss with this miss-or him. If he'd have known the task was going to be this difficult he might have had second thoughts about embarking on it. Not only was her cunt on the small side (and his cock on the large), but her cherry appeared to be all pit. Nonetheless, he kept at his assigned task, pausing periodically to give himself a rest and restore his sagging strength. At least my pecker hasn't softened, he mused, trying to bolster his studly ego. Just the same, he was beginning to have doubts if she could be ravished, by him or anyone.
"Is something the matter?" asked Priscilla, knowing there was.
"I dunno, but you're sure one helluva hard girl to fuck, honey."
"Maybe that's because I don't want to be. Why should I want to end up pregnant by the-likes of you, Chauffeur?"
"I'll have you know, Miss Nouveau Riche, that I'm descended from one of the eldest families in Europe," he boasted.
"I always thought you looked like a throwback, what with your ape brow and hairy chest."
"Other women more sophisticated than you refer to it as my animal magnetism."
"I'd call it B.O., if you ask me." She giggled, and when she did, her cunt loosened just enough for its cherry to become vulnerable to a venal thrust.
Knowing her defenses were down, now that she was in a spirit of mirth, he seized the heaven-sent opportunity and rammed the fear of the Lord into the startled girl. Before she knew it, her cherry had popped out and blood was bubbling from between her legs.
"My God, I'm dying!" she exclaimed, on seeing the crimson river flowing from her crack. "You've stabbed me with that awful spear of yours!"
"So I have." A look of lecherous pride was on his swarthy face. Another Aryan penetrated How many does this make?
His reverie was interrupted by her screaming, "Zoltan, you degenerate foreigner, you've ruined me for life!"
"I should certainly hope so, I try to do my job right. After I get done with you, you'll be ready to take on any living being with a stiff prick-men, dogs, bulls, maybe even a pig!"
"How dare you discuss sodomy in my presence, you filthy-minded peasant!"
"You mean you've never dreamed of being mounted by an animal? Surely with all the livestock around the place, you've noticed their breeding habits. Maybe even been a little bit envious, eh?" He poked her in the rib.
"I'm proud to be a human being, and I don't intend to sully myself with animals of a lower order."
"You ought to try it sometime, you really should."
"Is that the voice of experience I hear speaking?"
"Although I assure you I'm no expert in the field, I did on more than one occasion mount a particularly attractive sheep back on my uncle's farm in Hungary."
"Somehow I knew you would stoop to such things! And to think that the same stiff prick that got stuck in that ewe is now being stuck in me! I find that disgusting."
"But you seem to like it none the less," he said, feeling her cunt starting to contract around his plunging cock.
"You don't affect me in the least," she lied, feigning frigidity in hope it would discourage any further delvings on his part. Unfortunately for her, he had a few tricks up his sleeve. Although she tried desperately to avoid appearing turned-on, she was in fact terribly aroused by his artful thrusting in her private parts. As he increased his stroke and sank himself into the hilt, she couldn't help but be affected. Her suppressed sighs gave way to passionate grunts as he got her there fast. Excited to madness by his superb screwing, she gave a little scream after every furious thrust of his big dick against her lust-swollen clit. She was soon in the upper reaches of erotic agony. Her slim, sensuous legs wrapped around his waist to make sure he didn't leave her in the lurch. Throwing caution to the wind, her earlier fears of fertilization (as well as the pain of being penetrated) were soon forgotten as she wallowed in the rapture of imminent orgasm. Doing it this way is even better than having him lick my box, she reflected, as she felt the power of her approaching climax.
Similarly affected by the situation was Zoltan, who was finding it increasingly difficult to maintain control over his member as her super-gooey cunt's contractions became more and more pleasurable.
This may be her first time, but she fucks like a pro! Imagine, Zoltan, baby, what shell be like in a few years! She's going to become one of the best, fucks of all lime! I feel privileged just to have mv prick in her pussy, I really do.
"Hey, what'd you slow down for, just when I was on the verge?" she complained. "You quit daydreaming and start diddling, you hear?"
He found it difficult to concentrate on copulating and still keep control over his cock, which was rapidly approaching the bursting state. If only I can hang in there a little longer, he prayed, hoping the Good Lord would intercede in his behalf. "Why fuck a girl if you can't fuck her right," was his motto, and he was struggling to abide by it. Not since his first time had he been so affected by a girl. She was really, as the French say, "La hot stuffee."
Also experiencing inner agony, Priscilla kept waiting for him to come so she could join him in joyful release. She didn't know why, but she couldn't make it unless he did. Unfortunately, he didn't know this, and was diligently attempting to forbear in the face of tantalizing temptation. Finally realizing he wasn't going to come unless she asked him to, she whispered huskily in his ear, "Come baby, pleeease come!"
And come he did, in what seemed like buckets of spurting sperm that inundated Priscilla's pussy. Both of them gasped with flee as their interlocked bodies exploded in simultaneous orgasm. He as well as she felt the thrill of total sexual release and liked it.
Unable to restrain herself, Priscilla screamed at the top of her lungs as her powerful sex drive reached a crescendo. So affected was she by the titanic contractions in her cunt that she clawed bloody furrows down Zoltan's back and squeezed every last drop of semen from his ebbing shaft.
But what made her scream most was not his superb screwing; it was because she suddenly realized they were not alone! For blotting out the sunset was the silhouette of a huge man! The sight, under the present circumstances, was so frightening she again lost her voice.
"Eve seen girls go crazy over an orgasm, but this is ridiculous, he reflected, seeing she had lapsed into a state of shock. It was shortly thereafter that he felt a near lethal blow against the back of his head and went unconscious.
CHAPTER SIX
The next thing Priscilla knew she had been grabbed by her long blonde hair and was being dragged backward through heavy underbrush. Her naked, dripping body bounced along behind its unknown abductor, brushing against bramble bushes. These, plus a plethora of thistles and burrs, left her au naturel torso a mass of scratches, so that by the time she reached her destination she was writhing in agony.
After being dragged backward up some wooden stairs (where she picked up a sliver in her protuberance), she was unceremoniously dumped on a dirty floor.
Totally exhausted by the ordeal, and the passion which preceded it, she lay flat on her back as her hulking nemesis lit a candle for a light. Who was the brute responsible for this outrage? When he turned around with the candlelight illuminating his face, she recognized him instantly, even though she had never laid eyes on him before this moment.
"Hognose Hughes!" she exclaimed, her eyes big as billiard balls.
"At your service, Miss," he said, bowing before her bare presence.
"Not if I can help it, you ugly brute!" She started to get up, but soon found a mud-caked work boot resting on her chest.
"I wouldn't try that if I were you, little girl, I really wouldn't. Haven't you heard from your father that I'm a desperate man? I might do anything!"
"Yes, I have, and judging from what I've witnessed of your behavior, I'm beginning to believe it. You are no better than an animal!"
"And no worse." He removed his heel from her boobs in a show of magnanimity.
She took this opportunity to brush mud from her mammaries and make another insult.
"Don't you ever wash, Hognose? Even from down here I can smell you."
Hognose took it as a compliment. He was proud of his unseemly aroma. "Honey chile, I've been working with hawgs for nigh on twenty years, and believe me, Ah stink!" He broke into boisterous belly laughs which shook his oversize tummy, the rolls of fat continuing to quake for some time after he'd stopped.
During his hysterics, she dutifully perused the interior of what was obviously a ramshackle dwelling. But what set it off from others was the way it was decorated. Everywhere there were pictures of pigs. It was obvious, even at a casual glance, that Hognose was a bit daft on the subject of porkers. Pinned up on the walls were photographs of prize sows, many of which showed a rear view (in one case with cheeks spread). This guy obviously has a problem, she thought, while watching him walk outside. On the way he cautioned her again not to attempt escape as there was only one exit from the place and from where he was headed he could see everything that happened. Not wanting to have another heel on her titties, she did as told.
He returned with a bucket of water and told her to spread her legs.
"But why?" she demanded, curious as to what, in his dementia, he was up to this time.
"Because I said so, that's why!" he boomed authoritatively. "Now, are you going to do it yourself, or do I have to do it for you?"
She did it herself, and before she knew it, her box was being doused with ice water.
"Yipes! Why did you do a fool thing like that?"
"To keep you from getting knocked up by that hunkie, that's why! Nothing like a good ole douche to clean out all them dirty sperms, I always say." His fat face beamed with scientific pride as he went to fetch another bucket.
"Don't you think one was enough?" she yelled after him, but he was adamant.
"Better use another just to make sure," he said, returning with another pail of pump water. This time he reached down and spread not only her slender legs but also her still gooey labia. Into the aching void went several salvoes of icy liquid, causing Priscilla to cry out with shock.
"Never know but that one of them critters might try and hide from me," he muttered, peering with squinted eyes into her pink crevice.
"I guess I got 'em all with that last load," he announced proudly as he let go of her pussy. "You can thank me for saving you from an unwanted kid."
"And suppose I wanted one?"
"I don't think you did, least not from that Zoltan fella. I watched the whole thing, Honey chile, and from where I was sitting it didn't look like you even wanted to lay with him at all."
"Why, you're no better than a peeping Tom!"
"I woulda moved sooner, but he might have seen who I was. This way I got to sneak up behind him and hit him over the head before he knew what was happening."
"I sure hope you didn't kill him, you dreadful man!"
"You can call me Hognose, Honey chile, and I assure you I didn't kill him. If there's one thing I knows how to do, it's cold cock a fella with a cudgel."
"And drag naked girls by their hair through the brush."
"Sorry about that, Honey chile, I guess I kinda got carried away. You really bring out the cave man in me."
"And will you please stop calling me 'Honey chile'? My name happens to be Priscilla."
"I already know that, Honey chile." He paused to scratch his head as he pondered what to do with her for the night. "I'd love to let you sleep in bed with me, Priscilla, but I'm afraid you might try something funny. Guess I'd best tie you up until morning."
"Do you have to? I mean, like I hurt something terrible already from being dragged through the brush."
"That's just too bad, Honey chile, but we all get our bad breaks. Just be glad you didn't have to spend thirteen years in the state pen like I done, thanks to your daddy."
"From the way I hear it, you got what you rightly deserved for trying to kidnap me."
"Not trying to, for threatening to. There's a difference that your daddy and the judge didn't see. If'n I'd had me a good lawyer, even a bad one, I mighta got off. As it was I got sent up for life just for making a drunken threat over the telephone."
"There were also notes, I understand."
"Also written while I was snockered. Amazing that anybody could read them, since I flunked out of school in the second grade. And believe me, you gotta be pretty damned dumb to do that."
"That doesn't mean you aren't cunning, you sly fox. Takes a few smarts to lie in wait like you did to trap Zoltan and me at just the right moment."
"Pretty tricky the way I got you, eh?" He chuckled, scratching his belly as he recalled in his mind's eye the coup of his life. For the first time, he was one-up on Harry Mannlicher. He'd like to see the look on that fat cat's face when he finds out his daughter has been kidnapped!
"Now, lemme see, where should I tie you up?" He looked around the darkened room, holding his candle so he could see. The chair? Naw, she'd walk off with it. The table? Naw, she might tip it over and hurt herself. What the fuck is left? There sure ain't much that looks sturdy enough in here. Say, I've got an idea! Why not lie her to my bed? That way if she tries anything funny, I'll be right there to stop her.
"Come on, Honey chile, we're going into the other room." He grabbed hold of her wrist and began to pull.
"You're not going to rape me, are you?" She looked at him with doe eyes, feigning innocence.
"Don't kid me, sister, you've already been screwed once today. You're not a virgin any more, not after what that Zoltan fella done to you. He a pretty good fucker, is he?"
"That's none of your business," she snipped, "But I'm sure he's much better at it than you are."
"We'll just have to see about that sometime, but not right now, I'm afraid."
"That's a relief," she sighed.
"Yeah, I gotta get up early to feed the pigs. I'm just too tuckered out to treat you to a good time tonight. Not sure I want to, either, after that hunkie dirtied you with his greasy dick."
"I assure you he has a very clean member, surely cleaner than yours must be."
"Why, you suck all the scum off it before he stuck it in you, eh?"
"You certainly have a filthy mind, Mister Hughes, but then I guess you got that from working with pigs all your life. It's obvious to even a casual observer that you've taken them for models of how you'd like to be. You look, smell, and live like a pig Hognose, you really do!"
"And I'm proud of it, too. Years of working with hogs have given me insight as to what great creatures they really are. Folks don't know it, but I'm proud to be called Hognose. There was a time, though, when I wasn't. When your father first pinned that tag on me, I thought it was the crudest thing he could've done, making fun of me because my nose was different. Now, since I've grown to admire pigs, I appreciate people saying I look like one."
"I guess that's what might be called compensating for a physical deformity."
"It may be considered a deformity by you, little-miss-button-nose, but if you were a sow you'd think me handsome."
"Happily, I am not a sow, in case you haven't noticed," she said smugly, turning up her diminutive nose at him.
"Just like most folks around here, you're prejudiced against pigs. Lemme ask you something, Miss Stuck-up Rich Girl, where would you be without 'em, eh? Where would Hog City be without 'em? They'd be nowhere, that's where! Hogs made Hog City what it is today, and all you folks who got fat off 'em does their damnedest to forget that fact."
"I'm not, as you imply, fat."
"But your daddy sure as hell is. like everyone else, he's a rich man because he saw the profit potential in pigs. I coulda been rich too if I'd put my money into Mannlicher stock instead of booze, but I didn't.
"You know, your daddy and me, we started out together as hog butchers. Course, that was back before he got uppity. He used to be a real regular fella then. Sure could slit throats fast, too. But he had higher ambitions than staying in the slaughterhouse all his life. He wanted to be in the front office running things. He never did like having someone else tell him what to do, not even me. Knowing he'd never make it to the top if he tried to go through the ranks, (He didn't have much of an education, and that woulda held him back.) He sucked up to the boss and by marrying his daughter got to where he is today. I, on the other hand, stayed at the bottom where I belong."
"You can say that again."
"Maybe I haven't got a mansion and a big Cadillac, but I'm happy, I really am. Course for a while there I was pretty damned bitter about being sent to prison, but after a spell I got over it."
"Time heals all wounds."
"So it does. Anyway, I don't hate your daddy like I used to back when he sent me to jail."
"Then how come you've been making kidnapping threats again?"
"Just to keep him on his toes. Long as he's scared of me, I feel I have the edge on him. He may have more money than I do, see, but I'm a fuck of a lot stronger than him in the muscle department."
"If not in the brain. Do you know how long they can send you up for kidnapping? Mot attempted, mind you, but for the real thing?"
"No, how long?"
"Life, and in some cases, if the victim has been harmed, death."
"You mean they might kill me if I kidnapped someone?"
"What do you mean if? What would you call what you did to me?"
"I'd call that rescuing you from a rapist, that's what! I saw how you struggled against that hunkie, how he dragged you to the ground and forced you to fuck."
"Maybe so, but who are they going to believe, Zoltan or an ex-convict?"
"But if you tell 'em what really happened."
"And ruin my reputation for chastity in the community? What kind of a girl do you think I am?"
"A pretty one."
"You're drooling, dimwit! Wipe off your lower lip, it's disgusting."
"Other girls I know dig my dirty ways. I'm sure in time so will you."
"I doubt it. The class of female you associate with usually has four legs. In case you haven't noticed, halfwit, I only have two."
"But you can get down on your hands and knees and pretend."
"Not for you I won't!"
"You will if I make you, and I just might."
"I thought you were too tired for that sort of thing."
"If I get inspired, I might be able to muster up enough energy for a fuck."
"Not with me you won't! I'll fight you with everything I have before I'll submit to your brutish desires."
"You got spunk, Priscilla. I like that in a sow, er, girl. But since you don't seem inclined to diddle and I'm a mite tired, I think I can wait until morning. Until then, I think I'll just tie you up to keep you out of mischief."
"like you would stock in the stable."
"Sure, why not? If it's good enough for them animals, it's good enough for the-likes of you."
"I resent that."
"As if it makes a difference. You better get one thing straight, sister, as long as you're going to be my houseguest for a while. Since this is my place, please recognize the fact that I'm boss around here. You do as I say-or else! And I'll tolerate none of your sass, neither, understand?" He tried his best to look menacing, but somehow it came out ridiculous.
"Sure Hognose honey, anything you say." She winked at him and tweaked his flabby cheek affectionately. Suddenly embarrassed, he blushed crimson.
"You may act tough, but underneath it all you're all heart, Hognose. I bet you loved your mother, right?"
"She was a saint, that woman, bless her memory. I worshipped her as a kid. You see-" he spoke now in confidential tones, "-she was the one who first turned me on to pigs. Used to let me play in the pigpen when I was a baby. Said it was easier'n trying to keep track of me all the time. Besides, I had a ball playing with those piglets. It was almost as if we spoke the same language."
"You probably did."
"And something else I remember, your pa used to play with me in that there pigpen. Matter of fact, he used to sneak out of the house just so he could come over to my place and waller around with them hogs."
"So that's where he picked up that filthy habit. He still does it, you know, when he gets drunk."
"Really? So do I, and I don't even have to get drunk to do it. You may think me foolish, but I find wallering one of the most relaxing things I can do after a hard day's work. You ought to try it some time, it takes some getting used to, but after a while I'm sure you'd like it."
"Thanks just the same, but I guess I'm too civilized to consider it at the moment, thank you."
"If'n you're good, I might let you waller with me, really." An idiot grin of delight spread across his florid features as he looked at her with rapt attention. But she didn't take the bait. Suddenly he looked forlorn.
"The trouble with you, Priscilla, is that you're not a hick!" he thundered.
"And the trouble with you, Hognose, is that you are!"
"Your daddy's a hick, why aren't you?"
"Because he's not my daddy, that's why." Oh, Cod, she thought, now Eve let the cat out of the bag.
"So that's why you don't look like him, eh? I never could figure how such an ugly guy as your pa could produce someone as lovely as you."
"Please forget what I said about his not being my father, okay, as a favor to me?"
"And what'll you give me for it?"
"Nothing."
"Then I'll tell everybody."
"You wouldn't! Don't you know that'd ruin my father?"
"That's why I'd do it."
"But nobody'd believe you."
"But your father might. He's told more than one person how he doesn't believe it was possible for him to have such a pretty daughter when he's so ugly."
"I think he's very distinguished looking. I don't think he's ugly at all. Certainly not ugly like you. He may not be Rock Hudson, but at lease he doesn't look like a hog."
"There was a time when I would have resented that remark, but no more. Now I consider it a compliment, and I shall take it as such."
"Now that I've given you a compliment will you reconsider your threat to ruin my father?"
"I dunno. He's done me dirt on more than one occasion, and I never did get a chance to get even with him."
"What if I get him to apologize! Will you forgive him then?"
"I might, if he don't send me back to prison. I'd sooner die than go back there. You don't know what it's like for a country boy like me to be cooped up all the time. I about went crazy in there!"
"I assure you he won't prosecute."
"Just because you say so don't mean he won't do it anyway. I know your old man, and he's got a real stubborn streak in him."
"That he does, but he's also partial to me. If I tell him to do something, generally he does it."
"That ain't good enough for me, Honey chile, I have to be certain before I decides to let you go."
"You want it in writing? I'll get it."
"Still not good enough."
"What will it take to satisfy you?"
"First he's got to apologize for doing me dirt. Then, he's got to give me a pension for all the time I served in prison because of him. Then, he's got to give me a little farm where I can raise pigs."
"If I tell him, I'm sure he'll agree to all three requests. Then it's settled?"
"Not quite. You're like your father, you think too fast for me. My mind don't move that way. I got to sleep on an idea before I decide, so that's just what I'm going to do, Honey chile."
"Please let me go tonight, pretty please?" She got down on her knees and begged. "If you let me go now I'll promise not to tell Daddy, I really will."
"No dice. You stay with me. If I let you go now, I'll never get that pig farm I want. Maybe I should send a ransom note now that I know what I want. After all, it ought to be worth something to Harry to see his little girl go free."
"You're an evil man, Hognose, you really are. If you go ahead with this plan of yours, you're no better than the baddest kidnapper!"
"Who asked for your opinion, cunt? I thought I told you I wouldn't take any more of your sass. Didn't you hear me right?" To make his point, he let her have it across the face with the back of his big hand.
"You shut up, you hear?" He waved his thick fist in her face in a threatening fashion. Hearing no words leave her lips, he smiled broadly and pointed to the bedroom.
"You get your ass in there fast!"
She scurried as fast as her scratched feet could take her where he pointed. There she was instructed to sit with her bare back against the bedpost while he fetched some rope with which to tie her.
"But it hurts!" she protested, when he tied it too tight.
"Then that's just too fucking bad, bitch. Suffer, you little slut, it might do you some good. Get some of the sassiness out of you. Come morning we'll see if you've improved any, and if you haven't I've got ways of breaking your spirit."
"I'll just bet you do, you sadistic bastard!"
As if proving the truth of her words, he let her have it again across the face with the back of his huge hand.
"That ought to fix you for a while, Priscilla." He pronounced her name as if it were filth. Tomorrow, he mused while falling into bed, Ell fix her wagon-but good!
CHAPTER SEVEN
That night she spent pinioned with her back to the bedpost was surely the most uncomfortable one in her life. Not only did she have to endure the constant pain of the too-tight rope on her skin, but she also had to put up with Hognose's bestial sleeping habits. He snored louder than a buzz saw, belched without ever excusing himself, and broke wind repeatedly in her direction. The sum result of these and other unpleasantries performed on his part was that she didn't sleep a wink. Every time she got on the verge of sleep, he'd either make some uncouth sound or perhaps reach down and pat her on the head like he would a puppy. "I'm not your pet!" she had snapped, only to have him reply, "Don't be so sure about that, Honey chile," just before letting loose with a monstrous, smelly fart.
After spending the night next to him, I'll appreciate sleeping with pigs. A more loathsome beast I cannot imagine than the fat slob snoring above me. The next time he sticks that filthy hand of his in my face, I'm going to bile the hell out of it!
And so it went, until daybreak, when Hognose instinctively bounded out of bed to perform his ablutions in full view of his captive audience, who happened to be facing the open bathroom door.
He hasn't even got the common decency to shut the door when he defecates, she thought, as an unseemly aroma wafted its way into her disgusted nostrils. What is he trying to do, make me sick?
"If you want to, Honey chile," he hollered from the top of the toilet seat, "You can come in here and lick my ass after I'm done." He chuckled evilly while conjuring up the sight in his addled mind's eye.
"No thanks, fart face, I'd sooner lick a pig's ass than yours."
"You may just get the chance, Honey chile."
Good grief! He isn't serious about that, is he ? I could get trichinosis from doing that, and God knows what else! Just thinking about the prospect of her face between a pig's ass-cheeks brought a bad taste to her mouth. She began to squirm against her bonds, now that she realized what a maniac her captor was. He's capable of anything-even murder-I bet! Maybe he's going to butcher me like he does those pigs! All those years in prison, plus all the pigs he's killed, must have warped his mind! What mind? This guy is a class A moron, he really is.
Returning from the bathroom with a big smile on his sun burnt lips, Hognose waddled over and waved his pee-dripping dong in Priscilla's face.
"Care for a suck, sweetie?"
"No thanks, I'm not hungry."
"Sure you're not? I bet after you got a taste of junior here you'd get to like him."
"I doubt it," she said, turning her nose up at the stinking sagginess of his limp dick. "Say, how long has it been since you've given Junior a bath?"
"He gets a mud bath pretty near everyday, when I go wallering."
"There's more than mud on that thing," she remarked, noticing come encrustments on his corona. "Don't you ever wash after you diddle?"
"Why should I? The pigs don't care."
"You mean . . . " Her voice faltered a bit, ". . . you do it with pigs?"
"Of course I do!" he said boastfully. "Doesn't everyone? I mean, what do you take me for anyway, a fucking queer? I assure you, Honey chile, I never does it with boars. You bet your life I doesn't!"
"I guess even you have a limit as to how far you'll sink, eh?"
"Listen, sister, pigfucking is nothing to be ashamed of, not in the least! I'm proud to be a pigfucker, I am! I've fucked humans and I've fucked hogs, and believe thee me, hogs are better! I get a lot more animal enjoyment out of prodding a pig than I do some daffy girl. Sows appreciate me a lot more than women does, too."
"I don't doubt that in the slightest, Hognose. I bet with those curfy-tailed cuties you're a real Casanova. Say, though, if you're such a stud around the pig pen, don't the boars get jealous?"
"You bet your sweet ass they do, sister! Why, after those sows have had human cock, they get downright uppity. Won't have a thing to do with their own kind. They go around with their snouts in the air as if to say, "I'm too good for the-likes of you," to the same boars that used to mount them regular."
"Ever have any repercussions as a result of this jealousy?" Seeing the puzzled look on his face, she rephrased her question. "Did the boars ever get angry with you?"
"You're damned right they do! I used to think nothing of it, though, until one day those pissed-off porkers nearly killed me."
"How so? "
"Well, I was feeling pretty horny that day, and I'd drunk more than I shoulda of corn licker. Needing a piece real bad, I went down there and pulled this boar off a sow while he was mounting her. Now, he took this as a personal insult and got together with his buddies. Meanwhile, having shot him out of the saddle, so to speak, I took his place in that pig's twat. Soon as I slipped in her she started to perk up, squealing to tell the others, I guess, how much better I was at it than my predecessor. Well, that pissed him off even more, and he decided to do something about it He went to the far end of the pen and came charging at my ass full speed ahead. Hit me so hard with his snout I about broke off my pecker. Gawd, it hurt something fierce for weeks! And then while I was lying there holding my balls, the bastard kept butting me. Then his buddies joined in, trampling all over me with their hooves until I was bloody. If that sow hadn't helped out, I might well have died from that trampling. Luckily, she held 'em off long enough for me to escape through the fence. It was about the last thing she ever did, though, for as soon as I was gone those boars ganged up on her and killed her. Lost a damned expensive pig that way, and one of the best pieces of ass in the pen. Boy, but I was pissed about that, even if I was lucky to be alive. Ever since then, I've been careful not to rile the boars, just to be on the safe side. For one thing, I never fuck a sow in full sight of the boars, and I let them keep a certain percentage of the eligible sows for their private stock."
"Sounds like a shaky truce to me, Hognose. You'd better be careful about getting boars mad at you. From what my pa tells me, they can be real mean mothers."
"He ought to know, he used to be a pig fucker himself!" He broke into big belly laughs, so that his flopping prick sprayed drops of piss all over Priscilla's face.
"My own father-a mounter of pigs?" she exclaimed, doing her best to ignore the piss drops. "Why, I don't believe it!"
"Just the same, it's true. Him and me used to mount our share of sows, back when we was hog butchering together. He'll never admit it, though. Might be bad for public relations."
Images of headlines reading "Corporation Chief Admits Having Carnal Knowledge of Sow" raced through Priscilla's brain. Such a development would surely ruin poor Harry, if not his company. She'd best not breach the subject with him when they next met, or it might be disastrous. He might even kill himself if he discovered his daughter knew of his past frolics with sows.
"You know," he reminisced, "The two of us used to have contests to see who could polish off the most pigs. Funny thing is, your pa always seemed to beat me. Even back then, he was a real go-getter. I guess any man that can fuck fifty sows in a single afternoon deserves to be president of the company. What do you think?"
"I think you're the most perverted man I've ever met, that's what. Maybe my father did have a frolic with you twenty years ago, but every man is entitled to sow his wild oats. Although I don't exactly approve of what he did, I forgive him because of his exemplary behavior in later life. You, on the other hand, never seem to have gotten over your infatuation with sodomy. In fact, you have sunk so far down in the filth that you are beyond redemption. As I see it, Hognose, you're the scum of the earth personified!"
"Ah, you little snob, what do you know about life? Shit, you've had everything given to you by your rich daddy. You never had to shovel horseshit to make a living like I done, and worse!"
"Nothing that you did will surprise me, after hearing about your sexual exploits. Why not face it, Hognose, you're an incurable degenerate, not fit to be in the company of decent folk. You belong back in prison, where you can be with your own kind."
"Don't say that, Priscilla, please don't say that! You don't know how awful it was in there, what terrible people there were. I'd sooner rot in hell than return to that place, I really would!"
"Maybe you will," she mumbled, conjuring up images of terrible deaths he could suffer, preferably at her hands. Eliminating him would be like killing vermin. His destruction would be a positive good. Em sure they'd pin a medal on me. She began to devise delightfully wicked ways of doing him in. At least it gave her something to think about besides how miserable she was. The lack of sleep on lop of the agonizing pain caused by the too-tight bonds and her previously brutalized flesh made for much unpleasantness. She felt absolutely terrible, and she had a suspicion she was going to feel a lot worse before this dreadful ordeal was over . . . Hognose has undoubtedly got something cooked up for me, the evil bastard! she thought, as she saw a strange new glint in his beady blue eyes.
"Honey chile, how'd you like to go outside and help me feed the pigs?" he asked, inundating her with his bad breath.
"How about feeding me first, eh? AH you ever think about are those damned hogs!"
"How dare you put yourself above those poor creatures. They mean something to me, sister. You don't."
Thai's exactly what I was afraid of; now he won't have any qualms about what he does to me. I'd better walch my step or I might get my head blown off-or maybe even worse!
"Come on cunt, we're going outside!" He grabbed her by the hair and began dragging her across the floor. Her ass picked up a few more splinters on the threshold and got gashed by a rusty nail protruding from the front step. God, I hope I don't get tetanus, she thought, after seeing the cause of her cut.
The next thing she knew she was lying flat on her back in slimy muck, looking up at a pack of hungry pigs. Yipes! I hope they don't mistake me for their meal! Those mothers got teeth that could tear me to pieces! I'd better lie still because if I move they might be inclined to bite.
They were. First she felt a nibble on her foot, then when she tried to discourage the culprit, found herself being bitten everywhere. If Hognose hadn't broken them up, they might well have eaten her alive.
"Oh, thank you for saving me, Hognose, I'm really grateful," she gushed, expecting to be helped from the slime into which she had sunk.
"For what?" he retorted, pushing her back to the hungry pigs. "I'm not done with you yet." He took a bucket of slop and poured it on her naked, quivering torso. Instantly the pigs began to lap their liquid breakfast off her slop-covered body while Hognose looked on with glee.
At first they lapped, then, when they realized how thin was the layer of food spread across the screaming female, the pigs vented their frustration with their teeth. All over her they sunk in their teeth, though one hungry devil routed between her thighs with his snout in search of elusive slop in much the same way his European cousins hunt for truffles.
The pain of pig teeth sinking into her pussy was so great that Priscilla cried out at the top of her lungs. Watching the wanton sight of her misery, Hognose laughed uproariously, egging the pigs on with another bucket of slop.
Her tits almost got bitten off by hungry hogs, as did a major portion of her pubic hairs. The same might have happened to her cute button nose if she hadn't folded her arms over her face. As it was, she sustained hundreds of teeth marks the length and breadth of her once flawless body.
As the food ran out, the pigs became more ferocious in their eating habits, hoping to consume all they could before the remaining slop was snapped up by their brethren. As a result, during this denouement Priscilla incurred more bite wounds than during the preceding period. Her screams became so awful that even Hognose was affected.
"Come on you guys," he bellowed, kicking one sow in the side of the head, "Break it up, breakfast is over. Damned if I'll feed you off Priscilla any more. Your manners are atrocious. Tomorrow its back in the trough for all of you, you hear?"
Priscilla could barely think, let alone hear as he dragged her in a semi-conscious state back to the shack. Undoubtedly in a state of shock from the frightening experience, she stared blankly ahead as he leaned her against the door jamb and went to fetch some salt for her wounds.
Returning with a big container of Morton's Iodized, he liberally doused the lacerated areas of her flesh. It burned so much she began shaking with strychnine-like jerks as she writhed in agony across the floor. Even though in shock, she hurt something terrible.
Hognose shook his head at her antics. "I guess the younger generation's gone soft. They just can't take it like we oldies could when we were young," he murmured.
He turned and went into the kitchen. Best fix breakfast, he thought. Maybe with a little grub in her belly, that girl'll perk up. Can't understand her carrying on like that over a little thing like hog bites. Shucks, back when I was slaughtering, I used to get bit all the time, and I never made no fuss like she done. Of course, I always wore work gloves and heavy clothes, but they couldn't have made that much difference, or could they? I guess it would be a bitch to get bit in the bare tit. I best take better care of that cunt. Don't want her to die on me before I get a chance to have some fun with her. Ain't had me a young one in a hell of a long time. I bet she really-likes it, too. She may seem all cold on the surface, but underneath I bet she's a real nympho. She sure went crazy with that Zoltan fella, and he don't have half as big a dick as me.
While Hognose cooked breakfast, Priscilla recuperated in the corner. A big pout was on her lips, and she stared daggers at the man responsible for her degradation. Already she hated him with all her might, but at the same time she felt kind of sorry for him too. What made him the way he is? Was it an unhappy childhood? Parents who neglected him? Rejection by a hostile society? The long term in prison? A pea-sized brain? Too big a prick? She pondered these and other questions that raced through her boggled brain.
Deciding she needed some diversion from the constant throbbing hurt of her wounds, she reached over and clicked on the transistor radio Hognose had, resting on the table. A news report came blaring out of its diminutive speaker.
"Last night Hog City's leading citizen, Harry Mannlicher, President of Mannlicher Meatpacking, our town's biggest employer, realized that his only daughter Priscilla was overdue from a shopping trip to Lincoln. Alarmed as to her whereabouts, he called police who immediately began searching for the missing heiress, who, when she turns eighteen, will inherit something on the order of fifty million dollars. Shortly after the search began, the Mannlicher family chauffeur, one Zoltan Pest, was found unconscious beside the Cadillac limousine it was his job to drive. Pest, a former Hungarian freedom fighter who came to this country in 1956, had sustained a concussion and scalp wounds from an unknown assailant who apparently kidnapped Miss Mannlicher. No ransom request has been received, according to the girl's father, who has posted a fifty thousand dollar reward for her safe return. Meanwhile, state and local police are continuing their search for the girl's abductor, who is believed to still be in the area. They say they have the name of a suspect who has made kidnap threats against the girl in recent weeks and once served a term in the state prison for a similar offense. His name is-" CLICK.
"ME! HOGNOSE HUGHES!" announced Hognose proudly, to the startled moppet.
"How you like that, Honey chile, hearing my name on the radio?"
"But I didn't get to hear it. You turned it off before they gave the name of the suspect."
"You know and I know that they know the guy who done it is none other than me. Who else would have the guts to carry off the daughter of the richest guy in town in broad daylight?"
"Who else would be dumb enough, you mean."
"Takes gumption to do what I done."
"But not much brains. Do you know how long it's going to take them to catch you? Why, I bet they already got squad cars searching this area. Pretty soon they'll have the dogs out tracking you down. I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they arrive any minute. Why not face it, Hognose, your goose is cooked."
"If mine is, so is yours, Honey chile. They ain't going to do a thing to me as long as I got you in here. Besides, they'll never find me. There's a couple of creeks we had to cross to get here, and that ought to throw the dogs off our trail. As for them cops, they're even dumber than me. I don't worry about them a bit."
"But what about the F.B.I.? Remember they caught you once before."
"According to the radio they haven't been called in yet."
"But they will be, you can be sure of that. Why, I bet my father is on the phone right now ringing up his Congressman to demand that the army take up the search. My daddy will stop at nothing to sec that I'm found and you're brought to justice, and I bet this time they'll hang you for sure!"
"No, they ain't, because they ain't going to catch me! Now sit down and eat your breakfast while I figure out a way to get out of this mess."
"That s very simple, all you got to do is give yourself up."
"So I can hang? No, thank you, I like living too much for that."
"Maybe if you plead guilty they II just send you back to prison."
"Where I'd stay until I rot,-likely as not. I'd sooner hang than go back there."
"Then don't plead guilty."
"Naw, I think the best thing is to make a break for it fast."
"And just how far do you think you'll get? Why, I bet already they've got roadblocks set up everywhere. You'd never make it past those. I bet they even have helicopters out looking for you. Think you can hide from those?"
"There must be some way I kin skedaddle without getting caught, there must." He put his shaking hands to his head. Deep in concentration, he came up with nothing but last night's supper. All over the freshly cooked breakfast. Priscilla almost got sick and had to leave the table.
Sitting on the couch, she alternately nursed her wounds and sniped at him.
"Why don't you just face it, Hognose, you haven't got a ghost of a chance to get out of here without being caught."
"Then in that case I won't go anywhere. Let 'em come here. Let 'em fight me on my own turf."
"You mean you own this place? Then they'll find you for sure."
"Naw, I'm just squatting on it. As a matter-of-fact, this is the farm your pa grew up on when he was a kid. I figure never in a million years will he think I'd take you here."
"I'm sure he. will leave no stone unturned until he has me located, I don't care how much it costs him. If he has to, he'll have every square inch of this county searched, inducing this farm."
"That'll lake him quite a while. Meanwhile, I can wait. I got me plenty of food, a shotgun, and a steady piece of ass."
"I hope by the latter you don't mean me. I'd sooner die than submit to your sexual demands. Darned if I want to pick up pig syphilis-or worse."
"I meant my hog harem, not you, sister. I don't care how pretty you are, you can't hold a candle to them sows when it comes to screwability. Why, I bet you're a real washout in bed. All show and no go. You lookers always are. Only ugly girls fuck good."
Her distaff pride impugned by his allegation, Priscilla disputed his conclusion.
"Just because I'm beautiful doesn't mean I'm a bad lay, Hognose."
"We'll just have to see about that," he snorted, casting a lecherous eye in her direction.
"You wouldn't?" she cried, suddenly realizing he was serious.
"Just try me!" He advanced toward her with lust in his eyes and a lump in his pants.
"Do I have to?" she asked sadly as she watched him strip stark naked in front of her.
"Honey chile, you ain't got no choice. If I wants to fuck you, by golly, I will. You ain't got no choice in the matter. Besides, it's been a long time since I've balled a girl. Maybe they've improved some, though I doubt they'll ever be as good as sows."
Girding her loins for a fate worse than death, Priscilla caught sight of his twelve inch cock and fainted on the spot.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Priscilla awoke to find herself pinioned again, this time to the four posts of Hognose's bed. Spread-eagled on the piss-shit-semen-slobber and snot-stained sheet, she soon discovered that each of her respective appendages was tied to a bedpost with pieces of the same coarse rope with which she had been bound the night before.
Turning her head ever so slightly, which was all she could, she saw the salacious sight of Hognose rubbing his tumescent root with bacon grease.
Noticing the puzzled look on her face, he explained, "I've got such a big one, I think maybe it's best I give it a lube job before I try to ball you."
"It sure is a big one."
"That's what all the girls say," he said, reaching for the remainder of the bacon grease.
"Are you sure you aren't part bull?" she asked, noticing his hairy testicles were as big as billiard balls.
"No, but I assure you one thing, baby. I'm all stud," he said, standing up to show off the full extent of his greasy manhood.
It was then that Priscilla saw that he had something tattooed on his paunch. Although nearly covered by rolls of fat-he must have had it put on long ago when he was skinny, she thought-it was still legible.
It read in bold letters across his belly: "I AM A PIG IN
BED!"
Seeing her interest in his abdomen, he glanced down at his wrinkled tattoo and replied, "I try to live up to my reputation too." He oinked a few times, then turned his back on her and broke wind less than a foot away from her face.
Struggling against her bonds, she tried desperately to escape the smell, but it was no use. She might as well face it, she was trapped.
While Hognose had his back turned, he appeared to be struggling himself. Intrigued as to what he was doing, Priscilla watched as he appeared to be jerking himself off. Maybe she was to be spared the ordeal of intercourse with that brute after all!
Unfortunately, as she realized when he turned around, such apparently was not the case. For, affixed to his cocklip, was a French tickler in the shape of a hog's head.
"How do you like him, Honey chile?" he asked, waving the wildly grinning pig in her face.
"I must say it certainly fits your personality, fatso."
"I'm not so fat. Underneath this thin outer layer of flab lies a mountain of muscle!" He flexed his flabby biceps, but they still sagged. "Hmm, guess I have gone a bit soft. Better get my self back in shape with a little balling, eh. Baby?"
"Not with me you aren't!"
"Jes' try and stop me, sister, just try!"
"I'll fight you with everything I have, I really will!"
"For all the good it'll do you. In case you haven't noticed, I've tied you up real good."
"I know, my circulation is almost cut off because of it. Couldn't you loosen them a little?"
"So you can get away? Nosiree bob I ain't! They'll stay like they is until I've had at you, understand?" He moved onto the mattress, which sunk a full six inches under his weight.
Priscilla cringed as his hairy leg brushed against hers. Never had she been so repulsed in her life. He was absolutely revolting. He was ugly, fat, boorish and he smelled bad, but watching his smiling, pig's head bob up and down made her laugh.
"What's so funny, eh?
"Him." She inclined her head toward the tickler, "lb-cracks me up."
"So you like Junior, eh? How about giving him a little kiss?"
"Sorry, I don't kiss pigs!"
"This one you do, Honey chile." He waddled across the bed until his hairy balls were resting on her chin.
"How about giving me a hum job first?" He edged his balls upward to her mouth.
"And what if I refuse?"
"Then I crap all over you. How'd you like that?"
Choosing the lesser of two evils, she reluctantly look his testicles into her mouth, although they tasted something terrible. Stuck in their hairy surface were all sorts of scuminess, including dried come, pieces of shit and perhaps some sow grease. She almost barfed, it was so awful.
"Come on Honey Chile, you can do better than that. Suck on 'em like you would a lollipop."
Not knowing what he might do if she didn't, Priscilla pursed her repulsed lips and began to suck the scrotal sac with feigned enthusiasm. She could feel his testicles quiver with excitement as she lapped their outer surface with something less than relish. But bad as the situation was, it suddenly got worse, for Hognose got so excited he again broke wind, and this plus the hum job finally caused Priscilla to barf, which was just what he wanted. All that warm outpouring around his balls he found so stimulating that lie shot his wad in big spurts, some of which landed on her forehead and began to drip down her face. (Un-like some French ticklers, his was perforated for greater pleasure. When he came, semen spat out of the pigs smiling mouth.)
"That sure did feel fine, Honey chile," he gushed while extricating his barf-covered balls from her mouth.
Priscilla had never seen such a sickening sight in all her life, but soon she was to see one worse.
"As long as you're down there, how about giving my asshole a little lick?" He squatted over her until his pimply, plump ass-cheeks plopped down on her outraged face.
"Now kiss it, before I hit you in the cunt!"
Unable to disobey his demented demand, she puckered her lips and planted a less than passionate kiss on his fetid bunghole, trying unsuccessfully to avoid the pieces of dried feces thereon.
"What kind of kiss is that? If you don't kiss me better, I'm going to fart again. This time you'd belter French me, or I will fart!"
Not really wanting to, but knowing the consequences if she didn't were far worse-he might make her incapable of childbearing if he hit her vagina hard enough-she swallowed her pride (and a less-than-delicious dingle-berry) and plunged into the repulsive task of Frenching his asshole. Deep into the putrid orifice went her unwilling tongue, causing his bowels to quake so that he again broke wind.
Backing away as best she could from the smelly deluge, she yelled from underneath his exploding asshole, "you promised you wouldn't do that!"
"I'm sorry, I really am. I just couldn't help myself. It's just one of those things that happens, I guess."
"Not again it doesn't! You get your fat behind off my face this instant, before I take a big bite out of it!" she screamed, realizing for the first time the weapons she had available in her teeth.
Scared by the prospect of being scarred for life, Hognose did as told by one who had previously been his victim. Had the tables been turned on him? Was it he and not she who had to worry?
He cowered at the far end of the bed, safely out of range of her snapping teeth. To think that those same choppers almost sank into his ass, and what was worse, maybe his balls! He began to wonder if she was worth the effort it would take to subdue her, now that she was in a fighting mood. Tiny as she was, compared to him, she had him scared, almost shitless, but not quite, thank goodness.
"Come on, you big chicken, I dare you to drag your balls across my face again!"
Discretion being the better part of valor, he wisely decided to forego her challenge. Damned if he'd be turned into a gelding by that crazy girl! He turned his back on her taunting to contemplate the confusing situation. How could a little girl like her have me scared? he thought, especially when she's all tied down?
"You know what, Hognose? I think you're yellow, that's what I think! You may think you're hot stuff with those sows, but as far as I'm concerned, you're just a pusillanimous fattie!"
Maybe he didn't understand all of what she'd said, but he judged from the tone in her voice it was an insult. Briefly spinning his head around, he barded, "you watch what you call me, you hear?"
"Whaddaya going to do about it, you big dumbie?" She stuck her tongue out at him, and would've thumbed her ears if she could.
"I'm going to stomp you, but good, if you keep up that sass! I've got half a mind to right now!" He was beginning to regain his self-confidence, now that he realized that, aside from her teeth, she was completely defenseless. He decided to attack one of her vulnerable areas. Studying her captive loveliness, he found himself aroused by the lascivious sight of her legs spread at an obscene angle. His cock suddenly surged back up to its earlier erotic lever, and he knew he had to fuck her even if she bit his ear off.
As a conciliatory measure, he got some toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped the vomit off her face. Rut as she was still bent, he employed additional measures.
"What you need, Honey chile, is a little lovin'. " He grabbed hold of her tremulous, white thighs with his work-calloused hands and announced that he was going to eat her box.
"Not until you brush your teeth you aren't, Buster!"
"But I never brush for anyone, not even my mother," he protested, rearing his ugly head from between her legs.
"Then you should be ashamed! Go in there this instant and brush your teeth or I shall break wind in your fat face."
Aghast that she would even consider resorting to his methods, he hurried to the bathroom and did as told. Returning with his yellowed teeth shining, he sank them into her thigh and made her scream.
"Let go of me this instant, you brute!"
He loosened his grip and said, "that's just to show you I got teeth too, so don't try anything funny if you want to keep your pussy in one piece."
"You wouldn't dare?"
"You should know me well enough by now to know that I'm a man of my word." He moved downward to her muff. Using his snout-like nose, he parted the pink petals. Savoring the smell of girl sweat and uneaten pig slop, he remarked, "you smell even better than the sows do."
"As well I should!"
Ignoring her outcry, he began lapping at her tufted mound, hungrily engorging the slop thereon. Then, having cleaned her cunt hairs of the stuff, he delved deep inside her gooey slit in search of more. Even though unsuccessful in this effort, he liked the taste of her salty twat. Licking her labia with libidinous enthusiasm, he not only satisfied his animal appetite but aroused hers. Soon the lathered up pussy began to snap back at him.
So she wants to fight me, even down here, he thought, while warring with the snapping pussy. Well, I'll give her a tongue-lashing she won't forget! Now he really began to lick at the frothing slit, hoping to achieve mastery over her by carnally conquering her cunt. He found her clit and sucked on it hungrily, then sank his teeth into its swollen surface. She screamed loudly, of course-the pain must have been intense-but she also began to climax. Slime by the bucketful poured into her oscillating box and Hognose lapped up every last bit of it as he gloated in orgasmic triumph over her twat.
Now she was screaming with delight and, if she could have, she would've wrapped her legs around his fat head, she felt so good. Maybe it was only his animal appetite for salt, but he licked her box even better than Zoltan! Although completely repulsed by his ugliness and boorish ways, she found herself completely captivated by his splendid pussy licking!
Giving in to the orgasm racking her wanton nether lands, she wallowed in wondrous sexual release as Hognose continued to slaver away at her cunt. He, too, found himself aroused by the cunnilingual activity. As soon as he thought she was through, he swallowed his mouthful of girl grease and got ready to rut.
Priscilla had barely recovered from the cunt-shaking climax when she saw him move his immense prick into position against her pussy.
"Surely you're not going to try to stick that big thing in my tiny box, are you?"
"If you don't quit bitching about it, I'll turn you over and slick it in your ass, you sassy slut!"
"I am not a slut and you know it!"
"But you will be by the time I get done with you. With Junior's help, of course." He patted the pig head which was still affixed to the end of his enormous rod.
"Do you have to use him? Aren't you big enough without him? Only guys that have little ones need to use things like that."
"Don't you think I'm big enough without it?"
"Why would you need him if you weren't?"
"I'll show you I've got more than you can handle, even without Junior!" He tore off the tickler and tossed it on the floor, where it continued looking on at the amorous activity with the same insane grin on its face.
As soon as Priscilla felt the tip of his unadorned dick poke against her pussy, she winced with fright. Surely he'll rend me in half with that thing! How will my little cunny ever be able to handle that huge cannon?
But, unknown to Priscilla, her pussy, like others, had an enormous propensity for stretching. Soon after the bib-bored cocktip edged its wide way inside her slit, it began to distend to handle the huge dick that followed. Surprisingly, although the big rod reamed out every wrinkle in her box, she discovered herself easily capable of housing the giant cock.
Hognose, too, was amazed at the speed with which her pussy adapted to his prick. Usually, only the sows could handle him right off. He figured it must have been his eat-out that paved the way for such a painless penetration. Having staged a successful entry into her gooiness, he prepared to pacify another piece of territory. With bullish enthusiasm, he charged headlong into the delightful task. In and out of her tight little cunt his big cock moved with manly control, causing Priscilla to go wild with dewy desire.
Although hating him as a person, she found him irresistible as a stud. Despite an earlier disinclination to copulate with so loathsome an individual, now she discovered that she loved his dick more than anything in the world!
"Oh fuck me, Hognose," she screamed, in his unwashed ear, "fuck me with all your might!" Oh, how good that big cock feels inside my pussy! I've never felt so hot in my life! My Cod, it's getting even bigger!
"Do you want to come, Hognose, do you?"
"Not unless you do, Honey chile." He continued his spirited lunging in her lubricious sheath, his body sweating copiously as he roused himself to total action. An occasional porcine grunt would escape his slavering lips after he had made a particularly savage thrust into her pussy. He too, seemed to be having the time of his life. Even the sexiest of sows couldn't compare with the way Priscilla went wild over his plunging rod.
Needing another outlet for her arousal, but finding herself bound, hand and foot, she used her teeth to show him how turned-on she was. Into his neck, ear and chest she sunk her choppers, sometimes drawing blood from his sweating flesh. He had fucked her so far into ecstasy that the only thing she could think about was how close she was to coming. Just a few more thrusts from his rod and she'd make it.
"Harder, Baby, harder!" she yelled, as sweet spasms signaled her imminent explosion. "And faster! Ahhh, that's it, Baby, lots better! Oh my God, it's coming! Join me, Baby, join me!" She squeezed on his throbbing member with all the strength her pussy muscles could muster, making it difficult for him to keep control. His overexcited cock burst forth in hot delivery, fanning the flames of concupiscence already raging unchecked in her womb. A carnal conflagration enveloped their interlocked loins, resulting in complete joining of their pleasure. For the period of their simultaneous total climax, they were as one being, the proverbial beast with two backs come to life.
"Oh, God, but that felt good!" she gushed, into his wax-dripping ear. "You certainly brought out the animal in me. Look what I did to your chest. You're covered in blood."
"I don't care how much you bit me, Honey chile, it was worth it. I come so much I coulda filled buckets. You sure gotta sweet box, Priscilla Pussy." He covered her forehead with sloppy kisses of gratitude, and she responded by biting him in the jugular.
He continued the slobbering caress of her nose, checks and chin before planting a passionate French kiss on her eager mouth. Gone was any resistance to his bad breath. Now that he had proved his worth where it really counts, Priscilla was ready to overlook his minor failings, as long as he fucked so fantastically.
"You're all stud, Hognose, you really are." She kissed the tip of his snout to show her appreciation for his efforts.
"All us pigfuckers are, even your pa," he boasted.
"Did you have to ruin it all for me? Here I was, feeling great, and you bring up something as disgusting as that."
"Whaddaya mean, 'disgusting'? Personally, I find it very inspirational."
"Then I've made a mistake. For a minute there, after you'd give me the biggest thrill of my life, F thought you were a man. But you're not, you're nothing hut a beast who happens to walk on two legs. Get away from me, you gorilla, before I get sick!"
Whereas during the throes of fornication she'd found herself attracted by his animal magnetism, now she felt repulsed by this same primitiveness. Watching him withdraw his dripping dong from her violated loins made her see the ugliness of their coupling, where before she had only beheld the beauty of orgasmic release.
"You make me feel like a sow, you pig!" she yelled, her voice filled with contempt.
"Did I understand you right? Are you comparing me to a hog?"
"Comparing, nothing, I'm saying you are one!"
"Then that's the nicest thing anyone has said to me in years. I almost feel like crying, I'm so moved." He pretended to have tears in his eyes, hoping real ones would come.
"You really do identify with hogs, don't you?" she asked, incredulous that anyone would consider being called "pig" a compliment.
"They're the only true friends I've ever had and most of them I've ended up killing. How'd you feel if you had to kill all your best friends-and lovers."
"You really do have a problem, don't you, Boy?"
"I'd rather not discuss it, if you don't mind." He started to sob now in earnest.
Disgust had given way to pity as Priscilla's impression of Hognose, who continued to amaze her with his unabashed infatuation with pigs. The poor fellow so identifies with them, she mused, that he actually thinks he is one. I've heard of cases where animals raised with humans sometimes think they are human restroom; maybe the inverse has happened to Hognose. Poor thing, thinking he's a pig.
She looked at him with compassion in her eyes, but he took it for pity and got pissed. "Don't look at me that way, like you're so goddamned much better than I am. Maybe I'm not as cultured as your mother, but I'm a fuck of a lot happier!"
"Are you happy, Hognose, I mean really and truly happy?"
"Damned right I am! Un-like humans, them pigs treat me right, you hear? All I've ever got from my fellow man is the shaft, but hogs treat me like an equal!"
Which Em sure you are, she thought, noticing again how much he resembled a hog.
Seeing the thinly disguised contempt registered on her upturned lip, he turned on her with rage. "You think you're so much better than I am because you've got an education, but I'll tell you something, rich bitch, you may know a lot, but you ain't got much sense. I may not have gone to school much, but I've been around, see, and I know what's what." He stuck his finger at her in the same way President Kennedy used to, but without quite the same effect.
"No you don't, Dimwit, you just think you do. Actually, you don't know anything but how to mount a pig. Now, I admit that may gain you an entrance to pig circles, but it doesn't cut much ice with polite society."
"Who gives a fuck about polite society? I've had it up to here with you hotsy totsy chicks, I really have. You know what? After hearing you talk, I'd rather screw a sow than you any day."
"I'm sure you would, Hognose. At least she'd appreciate your gross ways. I don't."
"But you will. Wait until I rub your nose in it a little more." He fingered his member so she'd get the message.
"You'll begin to see things the way I do, sooner than think."
"I'd die first."
"You just may, cunt, if you keep crossing me!"
CHAPTER NINE
While Priscilla suffered under her confining bonds, Hognose indulged another of his weaknesses-booze. Ignoring her demands that she be cut free, he spat gooey oysters at the squirming girl in between drinks. Degrading her was the most fun he'd had in years; it helped make up for all the stuck-up bitches who'd looked down their noses at him all his life. Dragging her down to his level was his way of evening up the social inequities he'd suffered as a result of his unbeautiful exterior.
Maybe I should make her ugly too, he considered, while hoisting the jug of white lightning to his lips. I could break her nose or perhaps put out one of her eyes. After that, she'd know what it's like having people, shun her 'cause she's ugly. And I could smash one of her lovely legs so bad she'd always have to hobble. There are all kinds of nasty things I could do to that cunt, like bite off one of her boobs.
His sadistic reverie was interrupted by her again demanding at the top of her lungs that he release her this instant or at least wipe the goo off her pubic growth as it was beginning to itch.
"If you think you itch bad, you shoulda seen the girl who I used Spanish Fly on. She itched so bad a hundred guys couldn't have satisfied her. I tried my damnedest, but after a while I got too pooped to continue. Next thing I knew, she was running out of the house and impaling herself on the gearshift knob of my pickup. That girl was in a bad way, believe me. I had to drive her to the insane asylum all the way in first because she wouldn't get off the gearshift. Yeah, spic fly sure drove that dame crazy. Last I heard, she was still in the nuthouse, begging everything in pants to ball her, even though they never let her out of a strait jacket."
"Don't you feel the least bit of remorse for having ruined that poor girl's life?"
"Why should I? She asked for it. All I did was give her a little more than she expected. You see, when I met her-she was a lady butcher at the plant-she confided to me she was frigid. Asked me if I knew a cure for it. I said sure, I've got just the stuff. Got it out of a veterinary catalog. Says on the label it's for 'shy breeders,' whatever that means. Although it was meant for pigs, I told her I was sure it'd work just dandy on women. Before I tried it on her, I used some on a sow I was tight with. Turned that critter on something crazy. Boy, I couldn't ball her enough, she wanted cock so bad. Soon as the frigid honey heard this, she wanted to try the stuff. The rest, as they say, is history." He took another drink, then let loose with a super-loud belch that outraged Priscilla's sense of decency almost as much as did the ribald tale.
"What you did to that girl was criminal! Weren't charges ever pressed against you?"
"For what? I didn't force her to do nothing, she took the stuff willingly."
"But you gave it to her."
"Only after she asked for it, and even then I didn't want to, as I'd had such a bitch of a time satisfying that sow. But she grabbed the stuff out of my hand and rubbed it on her cunt before I could stop her. Next thing I knew she was demanding hot dick on the spot. What could I do but give what I had?"
"That was certainly big of you, wasn't it?"
"I thought it was, especially since I was pooped from a hard day's work at the time. I didn't exactly feel like diddling for a dozen hours, which is what she made me do before leaping on that damned gearshift knob. You know, that thing smelled of pussy for months afterward. Every time I shifted into second, I'd think of that poor slut in the nuthouse."
"So you do feel sorry for her."
"Maybe a little, since she couldn't feel my big dick between her thighs any more. To deprive a cunt of that would drive any dame crazy, even you." He chuckled, then hoisted the spout to his lips and drank greedily of the potent elixir.
"I may be driven mad by it, you mean. Say, are you going to wipe me off. or not?"
"Honey chile, I'm going to do even better. I'm going to give you a douche!" He advanced toward her with an alcoholic glint in his beady eyes. Brandishing the brown pettijohn before her, he poured copious quantities of corn liquor in her pink crevasse, causing her extreme pain as the alcohol burned the tender tissues. Her pussy felt as if it were on fire, it hurt so bad.
"You evil sonuvabitch, what have you done to me now? If you've ruined by snatch, I'll kill you!"
"I just cleaned some of the scum off it, Honey chile. Besides, you're lucky I only used booze. Last girl I did this to got turpentine in her twat. You should've heard the way she screamed. Believe me, it was beautiful!" He smiled wickedly as he recalled the wondrous event.
"Hognose, I do believe you're mad! No normal person would enjoy inflicting pain on the body of another, but you actually gloat in doing it. Is it the booze that docs that to you, or are you always so inclined?"
"I always feel like doing it. Booze just lets me. Guess I'd best have another snort so I'll get inspired." Again went the spout to his thirsty lips, but this time he took an extra big gulp. So big, in fact, that he shook his head afterward from the effect of the scorching stuff's trip down his gullet.
"Mot damn, but this stuff's pow'ful!" he exclaimed as he felt his esophagus set afire.
"Hognose, you really shouldn't drink so much. It's not good for you."
"On the contrary, my dear, it's the damned best tonic I could buy. You ought to try some too, it's good for what ails you."
"What ails me is you, and unless that stuff will get rid of you it won't do me a lick of good."
"Jes' the same, I think you should have some." He rose to his feet, belched once to release an air bubble, and staggered over to the startled girl with jug in hand. "Here, Honey chile, have a little snort." He held open her mouth with his muddy hand and poured a slug of the stuff down her protesting, pink throat. She gagged and coughed and sputtered, hut still the booze went down, causing an extreme burning sensation all the way to her belly. It was the first thing in the way of food that had traveled there since yesterday (the breakfast she had started got barfed up). Needless to say, the effect was almost instantaneous. After Hognose had her take another dose, she was drunk as a skunk. But at least she didn't hurt as much, the booze blunting the pain that had previously been emanating from her pussy.
A bit stir-crazy from being inside, country boy Hognose suggested they depart for the pig pen. Although before she had been reluctant to agree to any of his requests, this time her booze-addled brain assented to accompanying him. Anything was better than being tied down indoors when it was sunny outside.
Hognose apparently had softened in his attitude toward her, too, as this time when he dragged her outside, he grabbed hold of her arm, instead of her hair. This but proved the truth of the adage that there's no greater love than that of one drunk for another. This time, she even enjoyed bouncing her bare ass down the front steps.
Plopping down in a ringside seat in the mud, the two shared one another's company, the jug, and the sight of milling pigs. like many a young buck with booze in his belly, Hognose couldn't resist the urge in every man to show off before a beautiful girl. Leaving her with the pettijohn, he headed for a group of sows, wading into their oinking midst with stiff prick at the ready. Then, after giving a rebel yell that somehow seemed appropriate, he charged into an unsuspecting sow's behind and began battering away at her until he'd breached the surface of her slit. (It didn't seem to matter that he had the wrong aperture.)
Priscilla, her inhibitions suddenly vanished from the strong drink, applauded his lewd acts with clapping and catcalls. Encouraged by her boisterous show of support, he buggered the poor sow until she squealed for mercy.
"So, you like it, eh, wench? I'd like to screw you some more, but the other girls are getting jealous." He yanked the rod out of the sow's relieved asshole and looked around for others to penetrate. A bit fed-up with fat sows, he sought out a juicy piglet. Finding one he could hold in one hand, he impaled its behind on his prick and walked around the pen with the squealer so skewered. By moving the little creature up and down, he found that he could create a not unpleasant sensation in his stiffened shaft.
"This is like jerking off, only I've got someone to talk to, eh?"
"I'm sure you two speak the same language." She took another swig, shaking her head at his obscene antics. What will he do next? she wondered, watching him discard the piglet after its mother began to eye him suspiciously. Even among pigs, apparently, they looked with disfavor upon child molesters.
"Sure you don't want to join me, girl? I've got some-boars here that'd just love to bang you, unless of course you're prejudiced."
"I'll take a rain check, okay? Watching you is fun enough. I like to get my kicks vicariously. Come on, Hognose, continue to show me your stuff. Surely you're not worn out already, are you?'
"Not by a darn site I ain't!" His slaying power questioned, he decided to prove beyond all shadow of a doubt the prodding potential of his prick. Returning to the rutting fray, he forced his attentions upon sow after sow until he had satisfied her, then would move onto another. In his enthusiasm and inebriation, he even accidentally buggered a boar or two, but neither seemed to mind in the slightest. Perhaps there were even queer pigs, like there are such cops.
Still stiff after having screwed every porker in the pen, Hognose stopped to catch his breath and have another drink.
"Don't tell me you're getting tired-so soon!" she taunted. "Tsk, tsk, Hognose, I thought you were a real stud, but I guess you're not."
"Listen, Honey chile, you'd be tired too if you'd fucked as many pigs as I just have. Screwing one of them is a whole lot harder than diddling a girl, believe me. They've got pussy muscles that could crush a steel pipe, so you can guess what they do to Junior."
"Poor fellow," she said, taking his battered member in her hands. "Did those sows hurt you?" She pursed her lips and planted a compassionate kiss on its bruised foreskin.
"Gee, honey, that sure does feel good. You can go all the way, if you want."
"I'm not sure I do," she said, after noticing stray pieces of pig turd on the underside of his glans. Hoping she hadn't swallowed any, she made retching noises and spat repeatedly to be sure.
"As if you had a choice, Honey chile." He grabbed hold of her ears and pulled her protesting face toward his prick.
"I will not suck that thing! It's dirty and it stinks!" She began to beat at him with her fists in a frantic attempt to extricate herself from the smelly situation.
"Then in that case, you can clean it off with your tongue, tootie pie." He tugged on her ears until she was directly above his corona, then rammed her head down over his rampant, stinking shaft. She gasped and sputtered but had little choice but to swallow the stiff member shoved into her mouth.
Hognose lay back against a fence post and enjoyed another snort as he watched with obvious glee the suffering girl between his fat, hairy legs. Her blonde hair billowed in the breeze as the pig herd gathered around to watch this display of gross salacity. Apparently, humans too were also prone to wanton acts of abnormality, as well as pigs. They oinked and grunted while vying for choice positions to watch the weirdly joined couple in their midst.
Hognose enjoyed having an audience, encouraging the pigs to come closer for a better look. He was more than a bit happy when he saw that they were not unaffected by the wanton sight. During the course of observing the blowjob, several boars had gotten so aroused that they began mounting the nearest sow to relieve their animal lusts.
"That's the kind of spirit we like to see, fellas!" Hognose roared. "What about the rest of you stick-in-the-muds? Hop to it, while there's still sows available. Why not have some fun, as long as you're all going to be slaughtered anyway in the near future?" He roared with sadistic laughter as he beheld the venal vista before his bleary, bloodshot eyes.
Patting the head of the gobbling girl between his thighs, he proposed that she begin to suck with some enthusiasm or he'd have to box her ears. "Come on, cunt, you can do better than that!" he chastised, snapping her skull with his thumb and forefinger.
Unable to utter even a cry of pain her mouth was so full of fetid, male flesh, Priscilla tried her best to avoid strangling on the out-sized prick. Although she succeeded in breathing through her nose, there remained the psychological problem of having her throat stuffed with hot dick. Try as she could, it was very difficult to do anything with the large-diametered thing as long as her mouth was completely distended. But after Hognose's threats of further punishment should she fail to be more passionate, she soon found that this orifice, like the other, was capable of stretching a good deal larger than it normally appeared. Also, an excess of salivation aided her in the endeavor. Before long, she was bobbing up and down on the crimson shaft, sucking away with an ardor that was part feigned, part real. Although at first repelled by his gamy aroma, after a while she became attracted by it. He may not smell pretty, she mused, while munching on his member, but he sure smells like a stud. Feeling him start to throb with imminent outpouring, she really began to salivate. This, plus the passion with which she sucked, soon put him over the top.
"Oh, Honey chile, I feels so good! he announced, as his giant joy twig exploded in her warm, wet mouth, sending spurts of happiness far down her gullet, so intense was his release.
Near gagging on the torrent of hot sperm filling her mouth, Priscilla tried to avoid swallowing the sticky stuff but soon found it impossible under the circumstances. A flood of fluid warmth coursed down her throat, clogging both air and food passages. Some of the slimy substance seeped into her lungs, but the majority of it ended up in her belly. She felt like barfing and did, spewing up the same come that had clogged her windpipe and gullet. Far from detracting from Hognose's enjoyment, this ensuing delivery from her only heightened his keen sense of pleasure. He knew that for a girl to get sick during the course of a blowjob, she had to swallow a great deal of sperm. Thinking of the way she suffered under his gross and fervid discharge brought a bestial smile to his frothing lips. He took another drink to celebrate this most recent step in his corruption of the young girl. Soon, if he had his way, she would do anything he told her to, no matter how degrading.
"Nothing like a good, messy blowjob to break the ice, eh, Honey chile?" He took hold of her hair and yanked her head off his cock, and was pleased to sec her lips dripping semen.
"So you liked it, did you?" he chided, seeing her smile weakly, though probably with relief that she was through.
Speechless with exhaustion, she could only nod limply, like a piece of seaweed in the surf. Come continued to drip down her chin, but so weary was she from the fellatio that she didn't really care. Completely fatigued from her obscene efforts on his behalf, she collapsed on his lewd lap and didn't care if it did stink.
Equally impressed by her stunning performance on their master, the pigs oinked approval. Several came over to lap her buttocks affectionately, though one inspired boar insisted on licking the dewy slit between the sweaty globes. Apparently her salty taste was to his liking, for he kept right on lapping.
A short while later, Priscilla awoke to feel a not unpleasurable sensation in her pussy. Assuming Hognose had returned her favor, she was surprised to see he had not. But who else could be licking my private parts? she wondered, her mind still a bit affected by the booze.
She craned her neck to see who was responsible for her funny feeling. OHMYGOD! IT CAN'T BE! I MUST BE SEEING THINGS!
But it was no hallucination that had his snot-oozing snout firmly between her trembling buttocks, it was a full-bore boar!
Unable to speak, in view of the sodomistic spectacle, Priscilla pointed at the pussy licking pit in aghast. Hognose, far from helping extricate her from this sticky dilemma, smiled inscrutably and toasted the nasty boar with a snort.
"Don't tell me you're in league with this devil?" she demanded, her voice suddenly back.
"Let's just say he works for me." Again the inscrutable smile.
"Well, in that case, call him off me this instant. Damned if I want to get hoof and mouth disease, or maybe hog cholera, from that filthy critter!"
"As a hog raiser, I resent that remark! I'll have you know that my hogs are among the cleanest in the state!"
"Which may be clean for them, but it's still damned dirty by human standards. How do I know but that he may be infecting my pussy this very instant?"
"You don't."
"Oh, I could kill you, you insensitive brute! "She began beating with both fists on his flabby chests to vent her frustration.
"Keep it up, Honey chile, that kind of stuff drives me crazy!"
Unfortunately for her, he was right. Soon his sagging shaft began, like an inflating balloon, to grow. Whereas before it had been a limp pickle, now it was rapidly approaching cucumber dimensions.
Due to the lewd position in which she had been King before the metamorphosis of his member, she felt it bob against her Eve's peach. It became increasingly difficult for her to speak. Wisely, rather than ruin her vocal cords, she quit talking.
His lust rekindled as a result of her pummeling, Hognose began to concoct ideas for a bestial daisy chain in his demented mind. Why not join human and hot passions in one juicy coupling? He gestured for other hogs to join in, at the same time replacing Priscilla's pouty lips on his risen pecker.
A trio of eager pigs lined up behind the boar that was continuing to burrow his snout between Priscilla's pretty cheeks. One gay bastard hopped aboard his cunnilingual brother and began buggering away with pig-like aplomb. Poetic justice decreed that he should be penetrated-likewise, and sure enough this soon was the case. The fellow behind him got off easier, as a sow merely engorged his hairy balls in her mouth, while she in turn was mounted in normal boar superior position from behind. On and on it went in a varying series ot carnal combinations until the entire herd of hogs was connected through Priscilla to its master, who enjoyed the delightful spectacle immensely. Only Priscilla appeared to protest, as she apparently had had her fill of fellatio earlier. To vent her wrath on the wanton Hognose, she hit with all her might on his come-encrusted cocktip, causing him extreme pain and arousal to the sadomasochistic pig master.
"Oh, bite me harder, baby!" he bellowed. "You don't know what that does to me!"
Realizing that now even her teeth were useless as weapons, Priscilla loosened her grip and wept openly in impotent dismay. Unbeknownst to her, the tears that coursed down her pallorous cheeks, onto his hairy testicles, only turned him on further.
Gawd, how I love to make girls suffer! he thought as he watched Priscilla sob her way through another blowjob. Especially when they're stuck-up, little rich bitches like this one. What else can I do to make her miserable? he mused as his mind wallowed in miasma.
"Cheer up, Honey chile," he said, patting her blonde head with avuncular concern, "I bet you're the first girl on your block to get her box kissed by a boar at the same time you're giving me a blow-job. Think of the pleasure you re giving me and the many participating pigfuckers lined up behind you."
Only then did Priscilla interrupt her fellatio to turn around and look at all tin; carnal activity emanating from her ass backwards to the far end of the pen.
"Oh, My God!" she exclaimed, shaking her head at what she saw. "To what depths have I sunk?"
"You're just on top of the iceberg, Honey chile, "said Hognose, replacing her head back on his cock. "Wait until I show you the rest of it!"
CHAPTER TEN
After dispersing the daisy chain with his bullwhip, Hognose dislodged the boar's snout from Priscilla's derri�re and began to drag her, feet-first, upside-down across the pen. Hut hall way across, he heard something.
"Listen. " He cupped his ear. "You hear that, Honey chile?"
"Uh?" she asked, not really certain where she was, as she was lying face down to the muck.
"It's a friggin' helicopter, that's what it is! Fucking A, I'd better hide you fast!" He hurriedly dragged her over to the dark side of the pen, where he covered her naked, squirming body with his fat one and hoped nobody would see them from above.
Priscilla was squirming not only because she desperately wanted to be seen, but also because her face happened to be pressed against a pile of pig shit, which was unsavory to say the least. Unfortunately, there was no way she could buck the bulky Hognose off her back, and the helicopter passed overhead without, apparently, seeing them.
"Whew!" he sighed, mopping his brow with the same rag he had earlier used on a lower portion of his anatomy. "That was a close one. I could almost see myself getting hanged there for a moment. Best I keep a closer rein on you in the future, lest you catch those cops' attention. Don't you think it's a good idea I got, Honey chile?"
But Honey chile couldn't reply because to do so would mean getting a mouthful of pig shit. So she remained silent and suffering until her hulking nemesis decided the coast was clear. Only then did he deign to remove his obesity from off her half-sunken torso.
Grabbing hold of her hair, he raised her to her feet and declared, 'Tsk, tsk, you sure got yourself dirty, didn't you?"
"Thanks to you!" She spit out a piece of pig shit and started to walk away from him.
"And just where do you think you're going, little girl?" He collared her neck with a vise-like grip.
"Ouch! That hurts!"
"Its supposed to, Stupid." He relaxed his grip slightly, then tightened it to show her he meant business. "You try that again and you'll be sorry!" To show his contempt for her, he again threw her face-first into the muck. Keeping his fool on her nape, he forced her to press her lips to a piece of pig shit.
"What you need, kid, is a little respect for you elders. If I get any more sass out of you again, so help me, I'll make you eat that there pile, understand?" He stepped on her a little harder to show he was serious. "You may think I'm just a big dumbie who-likes pigs, but like your pa says, I'm desperate and liable to do anything. Believe me, if I have to kill you to keep from getting caught, I won't hesitate to do so. You don't mean a goddamned thing to me, no more than that pile of shit you're lying on, you savvy?" He spit on her to back up what he'd said.
For the first time in her captivity, Priscilla realized that her captor was capable of murder. He'd as easily kill me as he would a hop, she thought, while wiping the pig feces off her face. This guy's not a human being, he's a beast!
"Gome on, cunt, quit wasting time!"
"Why, where are we going?"
"First we got to wash you off, then take you inside to teach you a lesson."
The first part I don't mind, she mused, while being pushed toward the horse trough, but as for the second, I'm scared.
He hurled her head first into the trough, and for the first time since shed been kidnapped, she felt clean. All the mud, come, and blood of the past two days was ringed away in water. In both a symbolic and by gentle way she felt cleansed of her recent sins, from frolicking with Zoltan to having her pussy licked by that pig.
"You've taken long enough, cunt! Get outa that water pronto, or you'll wish you had!"
From the tone in his voice, she knew he meant business. In a trice she was out of the water and standing at attention in front of him.
"Ready for further orders," she said, hoping to sound cooperative.
"Ready for orders what?"
"Ready for orders, sir.'
"And don't you forget it again, understand?" He slapped her hard across the face to make his point. Priscilla wanted to say "ouch", but was afraid of the consequences. Silently enduring this and other unpleasantries, she allowed herself to be pushed like a stubborn mule toward the shack. The nearer she got to it, the more she worried.
Maybe he's going to kill me right now! I wouldn't put it past him. What can I do to make him change his mind? She thought of something.
"Want me to suck you off again, Hognose?"
"Did I give you permission to speak?"
"No, sir, you didn't, but I thought . . . "
"You'll think when I tell you to think. The rest of the time: you keep your mind on what you're doing, hear?"
"Yes, sir." She stumbled ahead, hoping he wouldn't strike her again. That sonuvabitch! she thought, defiantly disobeying his orders. If I ever get the chance, Em going to kill him!
Once inside the shack, he took her over his knee. But rather than immediately spank her, he heightened her fear with a dramatic pause, during the course of which he studied her superb behind.
"You know," he said, his voice apparently softening, "You have a beautiful ass."
He ran his rough hand across the curved, callipygian surface of her cuddly ass-cheeks. Never before in his entire life had he felt an ass so fine. Her skin was like velvet, smoother than thr behind of a new-born piglet. She had the sweetest ass he'd ever seen or was ever-likely to see. To show his appreciation of her beauty, he bent down and planted a passionate kiss on her tremulous buttocks.
By this time, however, Priscilla's fright had reached such proportions that she mistook this sign of affection for one of attack. So great was her apprehension, in fact, that she accidentally broke wind. far from alienating her captor, this breach of etiquette by Priscilla only encouraged Hognose in his efforts. With wildly distended nostrils, he inhaled deeply of her anal odor. Her fart was far more fragrant than a fat sow's and he found it fantastically erotic.
Intoxicated by the pungent aroma, he pushed his nose deep between her glistening globes to seek out its point of origin. like a junkie hooked on heroin, he needed more.
"Fart for me again, tootie pie," he cooed, nudging against her anus with his nose.
"What kind of girl do you take me for, you cad!" To show her disdain, she performed a gluteal pinch on his proboscis.
To retaliate, he took a bite of her buttock and held on with a bulldog grip. Piercing screams of pain filled the air as his fangs sank deeply into the creamy cheek. Priscilla had suffered a great deal since being captured, but the hurt of his biting her butt was surely one of the worst.
"Please let me go, please!' she begged, as her buttock began turning blue.
But he held on for a while longer, if only to rub in the fact that he controlled the situation, lb' knew, though, that it would take a good deal more than a simple ass bite to break her spirit. This girl's got spunk? he thought, as he slowly, sadistically loosened his grip on her girlish ass.
"If I don't have scars from that, I'll be surprised," she said, when he finally let go.
"Think of them as little, love hickeys from me," He chuckled, then smacked his lips as he beheld a faint flicker of pink between the teeth-scarred globes. He knew he had to do something else to secure his domination over the damsel.
Spreading wide her ass-cheeks with a firm grip, he sought out the tiny rosebud anus with his tongue; it tasted, to his weird way of thinking, even better than her love box. He began slobbering gleefully as he licked the little aperture into a lather. Already he could feel her quiver from the touch of his tantalizing tongue. To heighten her desire, he hooked a free finger into her pussy, plunging far within as his lapping tongue did the rest.
She started to writhe in aroused agony as the obscene lingual massage of her unmentionables got her to the peak of sexual desire. In spite of her qualms about buggery, she began to beg him for something bigger.
"So you want me to screw you in the ass, hey, girl?"
He asked from between her buttocks.
"Do you have to phrase it so coarsely?"
"In case you don't know it, yet, Priscilla, planking you that way is anything hut pretty. Besides, I assure you it hurts something awful."
"It does?" Her voice began to tremble. She wasn't sure; she could endure further pain, but at the same time both her box and butt were sopping from sexual arousal. She had to have satisfaction, no matter what the cost! Although knowing she shouldn't, as the results might well be disastrous, she begged him to bugger her, but gently.
"But I'm always gentle, Honey chile, surely you know that by now!"
Before she could answer, he'd moved his stiffened avenger firmly against her anus and had begun making preliminary pokes.
"How's that feel, Honey chile? Think you can handle him? Is he too big for you?" He made a few more thrusts to underscore his questions.
"That thing's too large for my little hole! You'll kill me if you try to stick it in there, you really will.
"Gee, Honey chile, that's just too bad, because, I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway. I'll clue ya, kiddo, once I get started with this sort of thing, a team of wild horses couldn't stop me." Now he began to bugger her in earnest, causing the most intense pain in her tiny anus as his thick cudgel charged therein.
"Oh, please, have mercy on me, Hognose, you don't know how awful that makes me hurt!"
"Oh, yes, I do." He laughed, lunging at her again. This time she blossomed into what was for his ears the most sublime scream. Gawd, but I love to make this girl suffer! he thought, as he threw himself into the sadistic task.
Never before in her life had Priscilla felt such unmitigated pain as when he plunged into her diminutive anus with his big dick. There simply did not seem to be enough room in her tiny, rear entrance for the titanic intruder. But once again, this orifice too proved to have a propensity for stretching far beyond anything she would have believed possible. Its elastic qualities were absolutely phenomenal, considering the disparity in diameters between receptacle and filler.
Even so, it was the lubricating quality of his sputum, plus blood from her battered anus, that allowed the rear entry to become a fait accompli. Especially without the sanguine lubricity, he might never have made his way into the wee slit. As it was, however, he succeeded in ramming his rod almost in to the hilt, though it was, admittedly, a tight fit.
Priscilla felt as though impaled on a fence post, so thick was the intrusion in her rear. So filled was her aperture with prick that she remained frozen thereon, unable to move a muscle for fear it would cause her guts to fall out. He was that far inside her.
"How does it feel, Honey chile? If you think I'm big now, wait until I get ready to blow. Then I'll really swell!" He chuckled in an insane fashion, at the same time reaching around to finger her titties with his gross hands. To heighten her sense of pain, he pinched her nipples until she begged him to stop.
A remarkable side effect of his tit-pinching was that during the course of this painful diversion her derriere became dewy, allowing his ingress to become more enjoyable for both parties. Instead of bringing only pain, the act henceforth also brought pleasure. Even Priscilla began to enjoy his poking, which was amazing, since every time he plunged into her anus it rent the pink lining.
Soon he began to swell just as earlier he'd predicted, and when he did the prior pain returned. But bad as it felt to be anally penetrated, she knew it would be far worse to miss out on the orgasm that might, if only for a moment, make her forget the misery of her present existence. True, he may have been delving in her derriere, but it was doing delightful things to her vagina, which already was contracting in sympathy with the skewered anus.
A bestial series of grunts signaled his gross and fervid orgasm, sending what seemed like quarts of hot, thick come up her ass. Even her intestines warmed from the viscid delivery.
Simultaneously, Priscilla found her pussy pulsating with sexual release. Powerful spasms of total pleasure shot through her untouched, but not unaffected, cunt walls. Spasm after sweet spasm shook the aching, wet void as she cried out ecstatically.
Continuing to plunge between her shapely buttocks, Hognose made sure he got the most out of his orgasm. He could tell by the way Priscilla's posterior was quivering that she liked it too. She was perhaps the most perfect buggering subject he'd ever had. Not even a young pig could compare with Priscilla when it came to having a tight asshole.
Satisfied that the ordeal was over when he withdrew his spear from her hindquarters, Priscilla breathed a big sigh of relief and collapsed on the bed, But Hognose was not to be satisfied in so cursory a fashion and again grabbed hold of her frowzy head.
"What now?" she asked, her voice trembling with near-total exhaustion.
"Honey chile has to clean up after the mess she's made," he said, showing her the sorry condition of his cock.
"I've made? You must be crazy, Hognose, that's your doing, not mine!"
"Are you giving me some more sass, cunt? Are you?" He grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and shook her repeatedly until she agreed.
"I'm sorry I was sassy, Hognose, I really am."
"You don't sound sorry enough to me, cunt! I think it's about time you cleaned up your mess, right?" He shook her again.
"Right."
"What?"
"Right, sir."
"Say it with a little more feeling."
"RIGHT, SIR, YOU SONUVABITCH!" she screamed, only to get her face slapped for this show of insubordination.
"Get your lips on my cock and start licking, you little slut!" he bellowed, forcing her head down upon his gooey member.
Unable to resist his iron grip on her neck, she reluctantly began the unsavory task. His cock was covered with copious amounts of the most awful concoction imaginable. Due to the destructive effects of the anal rape, his rod was smeared from foreskin to balls in clotting blood, sticky conic and smelly shit particles all intermingled in one congealing mass.
"Hurry up, Honey chile, that stuff's starting to thicken. Oh, and another thing, don't spit any of that stuff out, because in case you don't know it, that's your dinner."
"You must be kidding."
"Just try me, sister, just try me." He increased the pressure on her unenthusiastic tongue.
Oh, My Cod, he really means it! she mused, doing what she didn't want to do more than anything in the world.
Into her repulsed mouth went the result of their mutual moral lapse in smelly, sickening globs. I guess Cod is punishing me for the fun I had, she thought, as the awful stuff slid down her throat.
"So you like your little lunch, do you?" he chided, while watching her swallow the first of the fetid food. "Just wait until I have a bowel movement, then I'll let you eat it right out of the bowl, if you want."
"And I don't," she said, in between sickening mouthfuls.
"As if it made a difference. In ease you haven't realized it yet, Honey chile, I run things around here. You do as I say-or else!" Again he grabbed her nape and squeezed it, causing her to cough up some of her unsavory meal.
"Your manners are atrocious!" he yelled, seeing she had spewed some of the stuff on his scrotum. "Now, get down there and clean off my balls! "
Which was harder than it sounded because the barf had gotten clogged in his pubic hairs and proved difficult for her to remove with the rudimentary tool of her tongue, which was already weakened from earlier endeavors. Still, she kept at it because she knew that if she didn't, he'd find something even worse for her to do. His imagination for the degrading seemed infinite, indeed.
After a while of watching her so perform, even Hognose got sick of it and suggested she stop.
"Do you have to be such a friggin' failure at everything, you dumb cunt?" he boomed, hurling her back onto the bed. Then he left for the bathroom to finish the job himself with a wash rag.
During the interim, Priscilla lay flat on her back looking forlornly at the ceiling. Oh, woe is me! she thought, wishing for the first time that she were dead.
But when Hognose returned from the bathroom brandishing a rusty jackknife, she began to fear for her life.
"See this here thing?" He waved its bloodied edge in front of her face.
How can I help but see it, she thought, feeling the breeze caused by the slashing blade.
"Last week I castrated a boar with it because he gave me some shit, and if'n you keep up the sass I might just do something similar to you. Maybe slice off a titty. He made a pass at her protuberance, narrowly missing her nipples. "Or cut your cunt bigger so I could gel in easier."
He ran the rusty knife edge along the outline of her pussy slit as saliva collected on his fat lips. "Yesiree bob, there's all kinds of things I could do to you if you keep giving me back talk, you hear?"
"L-loud and clear, Hognose, sir."
"Jes' the same, I'm going to teach you a lesson anyway. Roll over on your belly, Honey chile."
"Hut why?"
"Because I said so, that's why!"
Slowly, she did as told, wondering what awful thing awaited her unprotected backside.
Once again, he heightened her anticipation with a dramatic pause. Increasing her apprehension was the dangling tip of the knife blade along the quivering surface of her back. Once, he pretended to stab her, creating the illusion of such by touching her with the knife point, then pulling it away as he pushed in with his fist. This scared her so much she lost her sphincter control and pissed all over the patchwork quilt.
"Now, was that a nice thing to do? Was it?" He grabbed hold of her head and held her by the neck with such force she thought she was being strangled. To further make his point, he used the old, animal housebreaking trick of rubbing her nose in it.
"How would you like it if someone did the same in your bed?"
"I wouldn't like it at all, Hognose, sir. Not a bit."
"Then if you think it's so awful, why did you do it in mine?"
"I-I didn't mean to, sir. I guess I got scared and couldn't help myself."
"You do it again, see, and I'll fix it so you never piss again-not ever!"
"Please don't, sir. I'll do anything you say-anything!
"You will anyway. This knife here says you're my slave and if you don't do as I say, it'll make you change your mind fast!" He poked her posterior to show how.
She winced, hut was thankful he hadn't stabbed her. flesh wounds she could endure, but stabs she couldn't. Even with her, there was a limit to what she could take.
Hognose realized this too and made sure that while he continued to increase the amount of her humiliation, he didn't go so far as to kill or incapacitate her. like; a cat mauling a mouse, he wanted to prolong the fun as long as possible.
Hut to show to all the world his influence upon her was permanent, he took the rusty jackknife and carved across her right buttock in capital letters the word "PIG".
CHAPTER ELEVEN
During the days that followed, Priscilla's degradation made even Dante's descent to the inferno pall by comparison. Seemingly possessed of an unlimited imagination in spite of his small brain, Hognose humiliated her in ways that would have made De Sade himself wince.
Tired of dallying with mere sex, he moved onto the headier pleasures of sadism. Besides, such were Priscilla's sexual appetites that he found it difficult to satisfy them without incurring permanent damage to his prick. The more she got, in the way of sex, the more she wanted. Her craving became more than a mere cock could handle, monstrous though his was. To remedy the situation, he resorted to the whip.
Having been a farm boy all his life (during his incarceration, he even worked on the prison farm), he had a well-developed right arm that was fully capable of wielding a bull whip with ease. But even it grew weary from all she required, yes even demanded, before being satisfied.
Then one day after he'd flogged her so hard he'd thrown his arm out of joint, it suddenly dawned on him. What the fuck am I killing myself for if she gels all the fun out of it? That girl-likes being whipped too much. It's not healthy for a girl to think like that, it really isn't.
He looked down at her bleeding back and shook his head. Here, he'd done everything possible to make her suffer and in the end she'd begged him to continue.
"One climax is enough for you!" he announced, tossing aside the tattered whip.
"Please whip me some more. Hognose! Humiliate me, piss on me, shove your dirty dick in my mouth, let me lick your shitty asshole
"Shut up, you filthy-minded slut!" Even he was shocked by the sordidness of her requests, though it was he that had caused her transmogrification into a trollop.
Deciding that something must be done, he tried tying her to a dog chain for a few days in hopes this might domesticate her sex drive. But all that happened from her spending this time in the doghouse was that she began to bark and picked up a pack of fleas. She became so mangy that even he considered it beneath his dignity to diddle her.
"Please fuck mc, Hognose, please!" she begged, while groveling at his feet. "You don't know how bad I need it." To show her devotion to his dick, she licked the spaces between his toes with more enthusiasm than a dog could muster, Hognose having a terrible case of toe jamitis.
That day the best he could do was piss on her upturned head and once he saw she was swallowing the stuff, soon found himself incapable of continuing.
"You're disgusting, you know it?" he sneered, then stormed away to get a drink of white lightning.
What kind of monster have I created? he thought, while watching the Frankensteinian female finger herself with a dried up dog turd. That girl has got a problem and so do I-her. How could a nice, decent girl, like Priscilla used to be, turn into the scum she is today? I mean, she's so scummy I bet even the pigs wouldn't touch her. Not that I'd let 'em near her either; any girl that diddles herself with dog dung is bound to have picked up something, maybe even rabies.
Although abstaining from sexual indulgence himself as a result of qualms about her sanitary habits and a sore cock on his part, he amused himself by turning the dogs loose on her. How she loved having those canines hump her little cunny! Why, she even howled along with the hounds when they came inside her. After a while she began to identify so closely with the dogs that she quit talking and started barking.
When Hognose came to feed her her daily portion of pig slop, she bared her teeth at him and snarled ferociously. Not wanting to get bitten, he backed off and respected her territorial rights.
Even the other dogs feared her ferocity, until she came to dominate their ranks. This took many fights on her part, from which she got many scars. Strangely, she even began to grow fur, perhaps as a matter of biological necessity, since she wore no clothes and had to keep warm somehow.
Every night she kept Hognose awake with her howling and carrying on with the other canines. Strays from miles around came to mount the legendary she-bitch who so closely resembled their female masters. As with everything else in the way of sex, Priscilla began to demand increased dosages of dog diddling. Soon it took a whole kenned of well-hung canines to satisfy her. She began to look elsewhere in the barnyard for more suitable mates, her sex life having gone to the dogs.
Hognose was happy to see her desires change, as he was getting tired of sleepless nights and having dog turds all over the place.
Aside from this, he also worried that some irate mongrel owner would come to retrieve his mutt and find him mounting that missing heiress he'd been reading so much about in the papers. Now the reward had been increased to a hundred thousand dollars, and then; were rumors it might reach half a million before the kidnapers were caught. The girl had been gone so long many people naturally now assumed her abduction to be the work of an organized gang, possibly the mafia-though Harry held out for the Communists, as did Zoltan-that both the F.B.I. and C.I.A. had been called in, with the Army a distinct possibility in the near future. Scores of newsmen from the major wire services of the world had converged upon Hog City. A command headquarters had been set up to correlate the work of the different criminal agencies at work on the case, but not a single clue had been found to confirm Harrys assertion that Hognose was behind it all. Needless to say, everyone who worked at Mannlicher Meatpacking believed him, though the newsmen were dubious. But then their kind is known for being cynical. The eternally hopeful cops were sure a break would come soon, even in the face of constant failure.
A fortunate side effect of the kidnapping was that Harry and Melissa Mannlicher began sleeping together for the first time since their honeymoon. As a result, they grew closer to one another than at any previous time in their marriage. The loss of Priscilla made them realize how much they missed her carefree ways and unselfish devotion.
"She was such a good girl," sighed Harry, "how could anything like this happen to her?"
Melissa remembered the adage, "Only the good die young," but thought it best not to tell Harry. But her daughter had been so long even she was beginning to give up hope that the girl would ever be found, except as a rotting corpse.
Zoltan was beside himself with sorrow for having lost such a good lay. If she'd perished as a result of his careless lovemaking, he'd never forgive himself. Alternating between his conscience bouts and genuine concern for the missing girl was a desire to diddle her once again. Cod, but she was a great piece of ass! he'd muse, while imagining, in his minds eye, her beautiful, naked body next to his. I sure hope she lives to fuck me again, I really do. Lucky Priscilla, should she survive.
Meanwhile, back at the barnyard, Priscilla continued her downward moral plunge. Reduced to an animal level by an overdose of libidinous behavior, she now lived for sex and nothing else. No act of depravity seemed beneath her doing. Her pleasure became purified by excess and the more she bad the more she needed. There seemed no end in sight to her dementia. A lesser girl would have either given up long before or died from sexual overdose, but spunky Priscilla kept at it. Even callous Hognose, who'd first started heron the road to ruin, was shocked by her unabashed lewdness. To restore her to the path of righteousness, he decided to again employ the whip.
One day when he found her feeling up a turkey's cock, he decided to teach her another lesson. Laying into her with the leather with all his might, he missed and hit the turkey right across the gobbler. Boy, did the feathers fly after that!
Strangely, as she watched Hognose protect himself from the outraged fowl, Priscilla felt jealous because the bird and not she was being flogged. Deciding to remedy the inequitable situation, she lay down in the dirt and begged Hognose to beat her.
Only too glad to comply with her request, after his earlier mistake had ended in the death of a turkey, Hognose had at her with the whip in the most savage way imaginable.
"I'll teach you to make sport of dumb animals, you little slut!" he yelled, laying info her bare back with a fury. "My farm was a nice happy place before you eame here and ruined it with your filthy ways. Now the animals all look to you as their mistress, instead of to me as their master. I shoulda known better than to let you get near those simple creatures. How'd I know you would corrupt 'em with your cunt?"
There were tears in his eyes as he related to her the havoc her very presence had caused in the pig pen, how the boars refused to breed because their one lucky brother bragged about licking girl pussy and whetted their appetites for it. "And you haven't helped matters much, parading at the end of your tether past the hog pen. If I were you, girl, I'd be ashamed. Tempting pigs with your twat, that s disgusting!"
He look our his wrath on her skin, splaying open the flesh with a brutal scries of lashes that left her bloody. Still she demanded more, but he was too tired to continue. Hurling aside the whip, he hunkered down and cried like a baby.
"What have I done to you, girl, to make you the way you are? Where did I go wrong? he sobbed.
"You made me what I am today, Fatso," she sneered. "After what you made me go through, I doubt if I'll ever be the same." She flashed her PIG-festooned ass-cheek at him to make her point.
Seeing him flinch when he saw his sign, she said, "Don't be afraid to look at it, Hognose. After all, it's your artwork and you should be proud of it."
"Girl, you must be in league with Satan, you're so evil!" he retorted, her wanton behavior causing him to backslide from paganism into the fundamental religion of his childhood.
"I guess so, if I work for you, Fatso."
"How dare you suggest that I'm a friend of Satan's! Why, I ought to thrash you for saying that, you naughty wench! As a matter-of-fact, I've half a mind to wring your neck if you don't shape up pretty damned soon."
"Hit me, Hognose baby, hit me! I'll love every moment of it! You don't know how that turns me on!"
"Oh, yes I do, and that's why I m not going to do it, I now realize that the best way to make you suffer is to deny you what you want. From now on, slut, I'm going to see you get absolutely no sex, period. I'm even going to fix it so you can't play with yourself. And don't tell me you don't. I've seen you fingering yourself more than once-and in full sight of the hogs. There'll be no more of that, I assure you."
Shortly thereafter, he isolated her from the rest of the animals and fitted her with a makeshift chastity belt that insured the end of autoerotism. Still chained to the doghouse, she was not allowed to mingle any more with man's best friend, and forced to lead a life of total abstinence for the next two weeks. During this time her mange went away, as did her fleas and frothing at the mouth. At first she complained constantly of being denied dick, but after a while her desire apparently lessened. By the end of the first week she had grown sullen and introspective, refusing to communicate, even with Hognose, who almost felt sorry for what he'd done. Still, he decided to keep up with the project, if only because as she regained some of her old beauty he regained some of his old horniness. Not since he'd seen her diddling herself with dog dung had he indulged in sex, not even with the sows, and he was beginning to feel it. Soon he hoped she would be fuckable again, but he kept her quarantined for another week before deeming her decent enough to diddle.
By then she was looking like a girl again, instead of like some filthy, field animal. A flush had come back to her formerly pallorous cheeks after he'd put some additives in the pig slop and her body had put on poundage so she didn't look like skin and bones, as she had.
To show his appreciation for her improvement, he undid her dog collar and dragged her by the hair into the shack just like it was old times again. Being treated thusly, she too perked up and began to bitch how her hair hurt.
Hearing her complain brought a big smile of gratitude to Hognose's lips as he recalled the wondrous first days of her capture. Once again she was the protesting symbol of purity and he the sex-crazy brute, instead of the other way around. Their sexual roles reestablished, perhaps they could relive some of their wild times together, he hoped, as he dragged her screaming loveliness into the bedroom. Perhaps in this semen-and-blood-soaked scene of earlier escapades he could recapture some of his ardor for sex and sadism.
"Please don't hurt me, Mister, please!" she begged, being careful to shield her nakedness from his venal view.
Aha! So she is just as she used to be! Hot damn, it looks like I'm going to have me a time with this lovely, he thought, while kicking her hand away from her twat.
"What kind of girl do you take me for?" she asked, as he threw her onto the bed and covered her undraped torso with slobbering kisses.
"Just the kind I want, Honey chile-a nice, fresh, decent sort of girl who's repulsed by the-likes of me!" He licked his way down to her downy blonde puff and planted a sloppy kiss thereon, thereby repulsing her completely.
She slapped and scratched and bit to keep him away from her box, but all to no avail. Hognose's strength was tremendous, and he didn't hesitate to use it to get what he wanted. And what he wanted was a taste of her juicy pussy. Burrowing past all obstacles she placed in his path, he finally stuck his snout into her snatch and sniffed the heady smell of young cunt.
"Hot damn, hut that sure do smell good!" he exclaimed, as he routed around in her luxuriant hush.
Despite all her objections, she soon fell victim to his tongue. Lashing her loins into a lather, it quickly aroused her to the point where she was willingly spreading her thighs. Once again Hognose fell like the horny conqueror he used to, before she became obsequious and ruined it all. Now with her spunk back, she proved a fitting adversary, well worth fighting for a fuck. After all, he thought, while avoiding her pummeling fists, half the fun of a fuck is fighting to get it.
Priscilla too, after backsliding from prodigal ways, began to see Hognose in the same old light. No longer was he the sop to her sexual desires, but rather the Hun rapist at her girlish gate. The same animal magnetism that had attracted her when she was demented again repelled her completely. She wanted nothing to do with him sexually, which was just the way he wanted it. No rapist wants a willing victim; that spoils ail the fun.
Unwittingly aiding him in his unjust cause, she fought back with every ounce of strength she could muster. Almost as if her virginity was al stake, she invoked Divine authority to save her from this evil man, whom she alleged in tones loud and clear, "Should be struck dead on the spot for his wickedness."
Accepting the challenge, Hognose backed off for a moment and taunted the All Powerful: "All right, you almighty pig fucker in the sky, if what I am doing is wrong, strike me dead this instant!"
He waited and, nothing happening, decided he had the Lord's official stamp of approval and proceeded with the rape.
Priscilla, on the other hand, saw things somewhat differently. In her eyes, Hognose was no longer just a Hun rapist, he was a Heathen Hun rapist and therefore twice as evil. So now she fought back with twice the effort she had before-, hoping the Lord would intercede in her behalf. Somehow, he failed to, perhaps being too busy waging war with sin on other, more important fronts. As a result of His deserting her cause, she soon fell victim to the horrible Hognose.
Prying apart her slender legs with seeming ease, he slid between the trembling thighs with his battering ram, ready to penetrate the puffy, pink lips of her little pussy. Still she protested too much, but alas it was too late. For the Heathen Hun was not only at her gooey gates, but breaching them in his usual bestial way. Her cunt quivered in pain as he rudely pushed his thick way inside, but in a short while it was sopping with sexiness.
"I hale you!" she kept saying, over and over, until she said it in unison with his stroke. Every savage thrust of his heathen spear brought her closer to Valhalla, but still she continued to protest the invasion of her pussy.
"You'll burn in hell for this, you heathen bastard!"
"I certainly hope so, Honey chile. Al least there I'll be among friends, care to join me?"
"I'd sooner die!"
"Good, then it's settled. Say what you will now, little girl, soon you'll be sliding down into the murky depths with me-and liking it!" lie bent down and bit her hard on the neck.
"Tomorrow there will be a mark there to remember me by, in case you forgot about the other one down below."
"I'm sorry, pigface, but I don't know what you're talking about."
Ska really has forgotten, he realized, as he rutted his way into rapist ecstasy in her still-protesting pussy.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The next morning Priscilla awoke to find the hickey still on her neck and herself handcuffed to the bedpost.
That bastard, she mused, upon noticing her condition of bondage. What kind of a creep is it that would pinion a poor girl to his bed? Still, he did show me a good time, cruel though it was. How could I have succumbed to as awful a man as Hognose? Did I say man? I should have said brute.
Although she kept telling herself how terrible he was, at the same time she recalled how wondrous he'd made her feel. Oh, to have his firm flesh between my thighs again! How delightfully wicked it was to be raped by the-likes of him! A bull would be proud to have a penis as big as his is. Back and forth she went, alternately berating herself for having fallen victim to a brutish man and basking in the afterglow of a successful seduction. Ah, the glory of defense and the sweetness of defeat! How marvelous it had been to have that man make her moan! Rape may have been a rough road to hoe, but it had its merits.
Momentarily subdued, her spirit still remained unconcerned, in spite of the assault on her private parts. She vowed never to surrender to him again, promising to herself to put up a valiant struggle should he ever again try to force her into unwanted venery. But if somehow subdued, she also swore to try her best not to be affected by his cock. Fat chance of that, she thought, remembering how she'd relished the feel of that firm pillar of flesh in her pussy.
Try as she may, Priscilla soon found herself lured once again into lust by that blackguard Hognose, who seemed to have nothing better to do than seduce beautiful young girls.
No sooner had he awoke then he was back to his old tricks. Now that his victim was handcuffed and unable to flee, he took his time to titillate her various erogenous zones. First, he licked the entire surface of her alabaster body with the tip of his slobbering tongue, thereby turning her on to the point where she was telling him to stop. Second, he again sank his tongue between the dewy petals of her twat and wriggled it about; this had her mewing for more Lastly, he turned her over and spanked her splendid ass until it was blushing; by then she was begging him to ball her.
Hut when he undid her handcuffs she'd changed completely, pummeling him with her fists and even delivering a swift, savage kick to his balls.
"So you've still got some fight in you yet, eh, girl?" he said while rubbing his sore scrotum. "Well, we'll soon take care of that, just you wait."
She might well have escaped had he not latched onto her heel as she attempted to flee. Despite all her efforts to dislodge his hand from it, she failed to free her foot from his iron grasp. Years of manual labor had given him a steel grip that could've crushed her heel, had he wanted.
When his balls recovered enough to continue, he dragged Priscilla by the heel outside and forced her to perform a fellatio on a pig. Suitably chastened by the degrading act, she was more than willing to have a human hump her. But all the time he was balling her, she kept retching up pig sperm that had lodged in her throat.
"Someday you'll see that I'm the lesser of evils around this place, Honey chile. In case you don't know it yet, those pigs go crazy over girl pussy. I saw the way that boar looked at you when you were sucking him off and believe me, he was digging it."
"Even if I wasn't. That was the most disgusting thing I've ever been forced to do in my entire life! "
That you can remember, you mean, he mused, as he realized she still had a mental block about her recent adventures. Soon, if he had anything to say about it, she'd be reliving some of the wilder ones.
After force-feeding her a breakfast of pig slop again she'd forgotten her earlier appetite for the stuff-he pondered what perversions to perform on the unsuspecting girl. While wondering what best to do, be had her give him a blowjob as he sat on the toilet seal and shit. She kept protesting the smell and he kept ramming her blonde head back down on his rod until he could feel himself explode in her repulsed mouth. As in the past, she started to puke a short while after swallowing his come. Ah, it's just like the good ole days, he thought, while wiping his ass and watching her barf.
During the day he had her help him with the chores, though with occasional sex breaks to ease the monotony. Besides the pig fellatio and bathroom blowjob, he also forced her to submit to several other sodomistic acts, including buggery, bestiality and cunnilingus with a crow. But just the same, by mid-afternoon he was bored with sex and back to he headier pleasures of sadism.
Bending her bare body over a splintery saw horse, In-first buggered her again to break the ice, then lay into her ass with a bull whip. Just like before, the more he hit her the more she wanted. In a short while he'd worn out his whipping arm and had to resort to his palm. Spanking her ass until it was red, he enjoyed himself immensely.
"You know, Honey chile, this makes me feel like your father," he said, just before laying into her again.
When he said the word "father", it triggered a series of electric impulses in her brain that instantly sent her back into prodigality. No longer was she the protesting puritan; once again she was depravity personified.
"Oh, fuck me, Hognose, hump the hell out of me with that big, beautiful tool of yours. No, first let me suck on it, smother it with kisses, lick your lovely balls and shove my face in your asshole, eat your turds, fuck dogs and diddle myself with dung." She smiled wantonly up at him as her head hung down in the dirt from the saw horse.
Unable to believe she'd reverted so fast, Hognose hung his head in sorrow. He wasn't sure he could wait another two weeks before she was back where he wanted her. At present she was just a trifle too eager; he preferred a certain amount of coyness in his cutties. Once again, he felt guilty for what he'd done to this poor girl.
I should've stayed with the pigs where I belong, he reflected, at least they appreciate me even if they aren't as good looking as Priscilla. Gawd, but she's a lovely piece of tail, she really is.
He looked at her lithe, naked torso draped erotically over the saw horse and thought of all the fun he'd had with that taut little body. There wasn't one ounce of fat on that slender slip of a girl. She was built like a race horse-and a thoroughbred at that. What business did he have balling a beautiful creature like that? He was no more deserving of her than he was of one of those Moral Fiber awards the Hog City Kiwanis gives to upstanding citizens who've known their duty and done it.
Meanwhile, at that very moment one of those very award winners was leading a mob of outraged Hog City citizens to rescue this little girl from the clutches of her kidnaper. Harry Mannlicher, after weeks of frustration in trying to find his daughter, had finally struck pay dirt. The day before, one of his fellow Kiwaniaus had noticed something funny about his dog, a purebred Great Dane who commanded an impressive stud fee. Something besides a choke collar was dangling from the massive Dane's neck which on closer inspection proved to be a platinum lavaliere. Engraved on its surface were the initials P.M. PRISCILLA MANNLICHER!
He'd run as fast as he could to the kidnap headquarters and demanded one hundred grand on the spot. Harry, suppressing his enthusiasm as soon as he realized he might have to shell out the money, carefully examined the pendant and pronounced it Priscilla's. Whereupon the finder again asked for his reward and Harry had him read the fine print which said "payment upon conviction."
Taking charge of the situation like he had the meat packing plant, Harry interrogated the pendant finder to discover where best to look for the lost Priscilla.
"Have you any idea when the dog might have picked that thing up?" he asked, trying to appear deductive, as well as concerned.
"He didn't pick it up, I tell you, someone put it on him. Perhaps Priscilla."
"We certainly hope so, don't we? Who else would put a platinum pendant on a dog except she? That certainly sounds like the kind of trick she'd pull. The girl has absolutely no idea of the value of money. Do you have any idea what this thing cost?" He weighed it in his hand while shaking his bald head. "Honest to God, I don't know what's happening to the younger generation."
"They're getting kidnapped, that's what," interjected Zoltan, who was hot to get going on the chase. Already he had visions of Priscilla embracing him ardently for having the guts to rescue her from the gang of Commie Mafiosos.
"Listen," said the finder in serious tones, "that lavaliere may have cost a mint, hut so did my dog. Do you know how many blue ribbons Rover has won me? You wouldn't believe me if I told you. And this is no lie, he gets five hundred dollars stud fee every time I have him mount a bitch."
"You mean you get that much, not he," corrected Harry, ever the businessman.
"I think we should get down to business, Harry, instead of talking about dogs," added Zoltan, anxious to get his arms around Priscilla.
"Damned good idea, my boy. Lemme see, now, Freddy," he asked the finder, "where exactly is it you live?"
"Out west of town a piece. I got a little farm where me, the wife, our two kids and the dog live."
"I don't care who lives there, I care about where it is. Please be specific. This is important, I don't have to tell you that. Besides a young girl's life being at stake, there's that hundred thousand you'll get when we convict the sonuvabilches responsible.
After learning the area in which the dog lived, Harry stopped to study the wall map he'd had made of the county, lie perused it momentarily, then exclaimed: "Egad! Why didn't I think of it before? Hognose and those pinko gangsters have taken her to the one place I'd never have suspected, my boyhood home!"
Off they went with shotguns, pistols and baseball bats to strike a blow against the baddies who'd brought such shame to Hog City. The vigilantes rode out of Muldoon's in Chevy pickups and dented Ford Falcons, the F.B.I, in plain black Ford Fairlanes, the C.I.A. in Citrocns and Harry in his flag-festooned Caddy limousine with Zoltan at the wheel.
"Faster, faster, you fool," he yelled at Zoltan, "a girl's life may be at stake and you worry about speeding tickets!"
"Well, O.K., boss, if you'll promise to pay the fines, just this once."
Barreling at breakneck speed down backwoods roads, Zoltan was reminded of his first sexual encounter with Priscilla in the bosky wayside park. Ah, how sweet it was! he mused, nearly missing a turn.
Meanwhile, back at the barnyard, Hognose was wondering what to do with Priscilla. Pretty as she was, she presented more problems than she was worth, as far as he was concerned. Sure, she was a great piece of ass when she was her old self, which presently she was not.
The rest of the time she was insufferable. Even now, as she asked him if he'd like his asshole licked, he found her repulsive.
If only I hadn't degraded her so good, she might have worked out, he thought, while watching her gesture obscenely toward his genitals. As it is, she's turned into the biggest slut around. Damned if I'll dirty myself on her any more. I'd rather rut with sows any day, I really would. Sure, maybe I could get her back in shape in another week or two, but it's only a matter of lime before she's back like this again. Let's face it, Hognose baby, you've ruined this girl-but good! Next one I get, I'm going to break her in easier. Sure have learned my lesson from this one, though, I really have.
But what the fuck am I going to do with her now that I don't need her no more? Shit, I can't send her back to her pa. Either she'd tell him what I done, in which case he'd hang me on the spot, or else he'd notice she weren't pure no more and come looking for me anyway. Both ways I lose, as I see it. But what else can I do?
If I keep her here much longer, somebody's bound to stumble upon her soon, and then my ass is grass. Even if nobody does see her she'll still raise hell with the stock. Already the hogs are acting up after I let her lick off one. Damned if I'll ruin my livelihood because of some crazy broad who wants to do nothing but diddle all the time. Besides, those hogs mean a whole lot more to me than she docs; they really do.
He looked at the girl. Gawd, but she's beautiful, she really is. Her titties may not be as big as some of them whore girls I humped in Omaha, but she's sure got swell legs. I loved having them wrapped around my red neck, but best of all I liked eating her box. Sure did taste sweet, lots better than them sows does. She must take good care of her cunt when she's at home; bet she washes it every single day. Them rich girls does that sorta thing; they really does. Guess they don't got nothing better to do, not having chores or nothing like other girls does. Sure am going to miss that luscious box of hers, I really am.
He walked over and asked if she had any last request, patting her on the head like he did to chickens, before chopping off their heads.
"Anything I want?"
"That's right, Priscilla. Anything at all." He avoided looking directly in her eyes for fear he might cry. Much as he hated the prospect, he knew that putting her out of her misery was the best way. A mere shadow of her former self, she had sunk so low as to have outlived her usefulness-at least to him. From his way of thinking, she was about in the same fix as a filly with a busted leg, and should be treated accordingly. One bullet through the brain and it'd be over. She'll never know what hit her. It's the only way.
After a long pause, on her part, she broke silence and said, "Hognose, I know what I want!"
"And what is that, Honey chile?" He put his heavy hand on her shoulder and listened.
"You know that big boar, the one I munched on this morning?"
"Yes, very well. That's my prize boar. I'm keeping him for breeding purposes. Some day hell make me rich in stud fees."
"How about starting now?"
"What do you mean, girl?"
"I mean how about letting him hump me?"
"I dunno, I don't want to damage his do-thingy."
"But you promised me anything I wanted!"
"So I did, so I did," he repeated, mentally weighing the dangers to his prize boar should she have her way with him. "Well, maybe, if you're careful not to hurt his crank. Pigs got real tender cocks, so you can't try and any rough stuff with him."
"like I do with you?" She giggled, at the same time snapping her forefinger at his gonads.
"That's exactly what I don't want you to do! Do that to him and you might make him sterile, and then I'd really be in a fix, wouldn't I?"
"So you would, fatso." She laughed as she ran her hand up and down the leg of his work pants. "Sure you don't want me to suck you off, Hognose baby?"
"Now cut that out!" He pushed away her hand and wished he didn't have to do what he had to do. Why couldn't have broke her in right like I should've? We could have had so much more fun together, we really could. Damn my dumbness anyway. Sometimes I wish I'd been born smart like the other guys, and this is one of those times..
"Come on, Honey chile, let's get this show on the road."
He took hold of her arm and eased her off the saw horse, over which she had been bent backward for the last half hour. Then he steered her toward the barn, where he figured it'd be safer, since the other pigs couldn't see them hump.
He patted her affectionately on the fanny to make her hurry up, and she turned around to ask, "sure you don't want me to suck you off? It'd only take a minute."
"No thanks, not now. Maybe later when I feel more like it. Besides, the last time that you did that you bit me and I still hurt."
"Let me kiss it and make it well." She started to undo his fly, but he stopped her.
"Will you quit kidding around? Do you want to get your wish or not?"
"Oh, I most certainly do!" She ran ahead to the barn, her stride full of enthusiasm for the project.
Harry's horde sped onward in their mission to rescue Priscilla from the hands of Hognose and his gang. As they neared the area of his farm, he loaded his double-barreled Purdey shotgun and pointed it out the window in case he should catch sight of Hognose, out in the open.
I'm going to blast that bastard to smithereens for what he did to my daughter, I really am! He took aim at a distant tree and pretended to pull the trigger. Pow! Pow! Pow! That's what you're going to get, Mister Hognose Hughes!!
Meanwhile, back at the barn, Hognose was readying things for the rutting. To ensure the success of her last request, he scared up a couple of breeding harnesses such as are used to keep mares in place when they're being mounted. In one he strapped Priscilla, while the other was used to lower the prize hog down upon her. Without the harness, he might tall and crush her to death with his obesity. This way he could get his jollies off with a minimum of injury to himself and the other party. Hognose was in the process of lowering the oinking boar onto the eager girl when he heard the sound of approaching automobiles. Thinking nothing of it, he proceeded according to plan, until the pig's prick was actually poking in Priscilla's pussy.
At that exact moment a two-ton Cadillac limousine with American flags fluttering from the tail fins crashed through the side of the barn and out jumped Harry Mannlichcr with his shotgun aimed directly at Hognose's belly button.
Before Hognose knew what was happening, Harry had unloaded both barrels into his belly. Blood and guts gushed out in all directions as he fell backward against the boar, which slipped out of its harness and squashed him like a bug.
"Thank Cod, Priscilla," gushed her father, "I've saved you from a fate worse than death."
"But, Daddy, can't I let him hump me just once?"
"Oh, my Cod!" exclaimed Harry Mannlicher, aghast at what his daughter had sunk to during the past few weeks. He turned to Hognose's corpse and cried: "My Priscilla has finally trod the primrose path to pig fucking, and all because of you, Mister Hognose Hughes!"
What made it worse for Harry was that Hognose had died with a smile on his lips.