Sex and the Church are very old enemies, and nowhere, historically, has there been more hypocrisy in that very area, from aborting nuns to female popes to mass murder, all in the name of whatever happened to be currently "right" or "popular," of course.
Here, based on an actual case that achieved considerable national notoriety a few short years ago, Martha B. Martin takes the facts as they were made public and weaves her magical spell around the quiet parish and the no-so-quiet settlement house.
Where else could Father Cinder expect to find so many yet-to-be willing subjects for his degradation ... so many innocent young children to feed his lusts? Many a person is walking the streets this very day who graduated with honors from his tutoring in pedophilia and dope.
It was not Miss Martin's task to attempt to trace down any of the Father's former flock, and to evaluate the permanent scars, if any. Rather she undertook to portray the scene as it must have been, in its heyday, with rampant sexuality and killer weed filling the very air, as the cameras recorded, permanently and irrefutably, the sexual activities of the Father and his innocent charges. That they were fully capable of participating in his orgies, without physical harm, bears visible testament to the powers of the bodies of children, and their minds.
Naturally such actions could not long be ignored, and the good Father was put away by the authorities. The collection of actual color photographs, however, was an entirely different story. Enough money can always purchase a duplicate set, showing all the little dears at their diligent tasks.
Becky, the very innocent young girl who unwillingly became the Father's sex slave as well as his procurer, could not help but be the person he molded her into, from the very beginning as he started out to make her his personal lust toy. Even she had no idea what joys and wanton degradations awaited her, even after Father's surprise downfall.
Fresh, sparkling new titles in the Surrey Collectors' Series reach your favorite newsdealer or adult bookstore at the same time every month. We will be there waiting for you, along with the Surrey Collectors' Series companions, the Rated X books and the HIS 69 gay titles. Serious collectors of strictly adult reading will want them all, side by side on their private bookshelves for definite re-reading and ready reference.
-THE PUBLISHERS
Chapter 1
Becky Winston bent low with the camera, zeroed in through the viewfinder, and snapped a photo of Father Cinder as the huge man fucked a fragile five-year-old boy in the ass.
Even though she herself was only fourteen, she was an old hand with the camera; she had been snapping and developing candid shots of Cinder and his special little children for close to two years. Two years ago she had been seduced by him. Then he had enlisted her as his helper.
Cinder was a busy man. Not a regular priest, he was editor of two church periodicals. One of his main interests was the fight against pornography. Many of his public statements reflected his zeal in the war.
"Stem the tide of filth and the overwhelming glut of sex stimulus," he had said, "so the kids can go on battling impurity and the priests with them."
In the hierarchy of moralists, Cinder had his niche, then.
But, like a coin, he had two sides.
Becky knew more about his two sides than anybody alive. She spent her afternoons and evenings with him during the school year, and also worked with him on weekends. During the summer she was there all day, at his home. She was, theoretically, in charge of the afternoon school for disadvantaged children. In actuality, she was merely his assistant. She assisted him in most of the things he did.
Two years ago Becky was a child, playing on the swings with the other children. The kids were in the nice play yard beside Cinder's home. Swings, slides, a Jungle Jim, a sand-box, a club house with a ping-pong table, a basketball court, and even an outdoor fireplace for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows at night.
Cinder had come out, dressed in black, complete with backward collar. Even though he was stern with them once in a while, they generally liked him. He had a good manner with kids. They seemed to like to be with him even after his disciplinarian work with them. This had surprised Becky. But only before she knew.
Then, after a minor argument with some older boys in the play yard, she was called in. Cinder, all in black but for the white ring
of collar, had come out and he approached her..
"Becky?"
"Yes, Father."
"I should like to see you in my office, please."
She knew what that meant. Her fingers and toes became cold. Frightening breathlessness. The argument had evaporated from her awareness instantly; there was nothing to it.
Inside. Very stern, now. "Sit there, Becky." Dark eyes very steady. Angry. Becky was terrified. What if mother finds out that Father Cinder had to scold me in his office? But then:
"Becky, I can see that you're troubled," he said.
"Troubled, Father?"
"Yes, troubled. You're older than the other children, Becky. Maybe you - er - shouldn't.. , come here to the Settlement House any more ..."
She began to cry. He had taken her whole world away and she was left with nothing to stand on, hold on to.
"Don't cry, child." He went to her, leaned forward, and then patted her shoulder reassuringly.
But the pats somehow didn't reassure her. They were a farewell to those things she knew, to the scene she was so used to, so comfortable in. She was being wedged out of her groove in life.
Cinder knew this, of course. His pats were meant to say: "That's all right. You're a grown-up now, and have to get yourself a job. No more playing with the other kids." Nothing more, nothing less.
She stood up and ran quickly for the door.
"Wait."
Hope! She stopped, but she still cried noticeably.
"Becky, you are older than the other children." It was said as though he expected an answer.
She wasn't all that sure that she was older than the other kids, but she agreed anyway, because he was an older man - and old people always know better - and because he was Father Cinder, a good, powerful church priest. Since she was a good, powerless church girl, she agreed, despite her confusion.
So he pressed on. He sat down beside her on the sofa. His hand stopped patting her shoulder. It rested there, warm and very heavy. His fingers were rubbing just a bit, and the hand moved down as he continued.
"I have been watching you, Becky." That was no lie. "You had a fight out-"
She opened her mouth to protest but he held up his free hand for silence. She gulped her defense back and sulked. His hand was comforting on her shoulder.
"-there in the play yard. Now I know it wasn't your fault." The hand slipped down. "Yet, there is a problem."
"But, Father-"
"Becky!" and he raised a finger at her. "You are reaching an age where it is difficult for you to play with boys any more. Do you know anything at all about Satan and sex?"
She was shocked. It had always been her ambition to avoid sin and sex and Satan. Confession regularly, the prayers every night, even fish on Friday when the Pope says it's all right to eat meat. Her expression of surprise was her answer. She hoped that he might understand. His hand told her, she thought, that he did understand.
It moved down farther, to the budding breasts. Mere mounds.
"Child," he said to her, moving closer and taking her other hand in his, "don't you know about the boys?"
The question was so ambiguous that she had to say no.
He put one arm around her and pressed her other hand in his, moving it toward the warm valley of her crotch.
She was wearing a white dress under a pink pinafore. Her legs were still very pale, since it was spring and the sun wasn't high enough to give her a good tan.
Cinder was committed. His hands began to move over her young body. His right hand went down until the fingertips pressed against the swell at the beginnings of her breast. His other hand worked under hers and, with his knuckles, he felt her mound. Incited, he turned that hand and just pressed down on her mound with his fingertips, thinking fuck it, why not? Her untouched pussy mound was like a call to him, and, if anybody knew about calls, Richard Cinder certainly did.
Nice and comfortable in the complete privacy of his rectory, he felt her tit and pressed his fingers against her pubic mound, quite innocently, like any curious priest might. Not all, but any. When he had captured enough territory he began talking once again.
"Sex," he said, "is sin. Satan is behind it." His hand moved down until he was certain that it was her budding nipple he was pressing. His cock was ready to explode. "You want to be purified, and free from the temptations of sin and sex, my child, do you not?"
She had to agree that she wanted it, whatever it was. He was leaving a door open for her. She would have agreed to almost anything.
He interpreted her acquiescence as a green light for him to continue. When he had reached a certain point with a child, he couldn't just stop. Escalation was always necessary. He had to push and push more, until everything had been accomplished. He sat beside her, hot against her, and moved his hand down from her delicately curved pussy mound. Down to her inviting legs where they were bare, between her tender knees and her hem.
His hand rested there as he continued speaking. "You see, Becky," and his hand began its slow, feeling journey up her delightfully tender leg, "sex is not, in itself, a sin. But possession by Satan and the host of demons is serious." Up and up it went.
She became aware of his hand and her breathing rate accelerated. Her hands went down to the creeping mound under her dress and she looked at him with wet and troubled eyes, silently pleading with him to stop.
Up the hands went, his beneath the skirt, hers riding atop it, on the white material. Her legs were being bared, uncovered.
"There are several different sorts of demon possession, Becky," he said. His hand contacted the hotness of her untouched crotch.' He stuck his finger out, pointing toward her totally virgin cunt. He moved the hand up and rested the big blunt finger, against the heat of her tiny pussy, against her cheap little panties. His other huge hand began to fondle her very small and just forming breasts.
She whimpered.
The hand fondling her smooth curving tit patted her reassuringly.
He smiled as paternally as he could and was rewarded by a hopeful smile from her. His hand once again fell upon her succulent breast. In possession of her confidence, he decided to push. "Becky, you are a very good little girl. I want you to come up into my lap."
She was happy for the acceptance and rose. As she did he put his hand under her dress from behind, fondling the backs of her legs. She tolerated it.
"Come, now." His hand was still there and he worked it into her panties just as she sat on his lap. She was hot on him, even her fanny. Her whole bottom was not much larger than his hand. She shifted uncomfortably for him and he moved her so that his hand was free to work. The heel of his thumb went against her flower petal cunt. It was wet and almost burning. His engorged cock was ready to burst from his stimulation. She was tight against it. The only way he could keep from ejaculating was by thinking about other things. But that was hard. Here he was, well into another pedophiliac seduction. He loved innocent little children.
She was frightened. Father Cinder was saying all these things to her about sex, sin, Satan, and demon possession, and she was on his lap and his hand was against her inviolate pussy. Not only was she frightened, she was naturally confused. But the symbol of authority was reassuring her. She knew that her mother would believe him, a priest, before she would believe a twelve-year-old girl - even her own daughter. Sure, it was wrong; but she wondered who was wrong. She was certain that it was she.
Still, she whimpered again.
Cinder took advantage of that to press on. He moved his big blunt index finger around and found the wetness of her tight little slit. "Now this is what demon possession can make a young girl do, Becky." The huge finger sneaked into the wet and tight slit just a bit.
She shuddered and pushed away a bit.
"Does it hurt, Becky? This demon possession?"
She didn't look at him but looked down and tried then to bring the hem of her dress down to her thin little knees. "No, it doesn't - but - I'm scared ..." she sobbed.
"Oh, that's all right," he said, hugging her. His big pulse-pounding cock was now as ready as it ever had been. It was stretched deliciously, hot and itching. He could imagine her tiny uneducated mouth nibbling on his huge prod. He released her from the hug, leaned back, and, with his free hand, unzipped the back of her dress down to the back yoke of her pinafore. Cursing under his breath he quickly undid those three buttons and then brought the zipper the rest of the way down. Her small immature back was exposed to his greedy eyes.
Only with the greatest of effort did he refrain from moving forward to plant hundreds of kisses on that smooth and untouched back. Instead, he brought his hand up and inserted it into the dress, placing his palm and fingers right against her side. He then began to move the hand around her ribcage toward her chest, toward those slight curving and totally delicious breasts she had hidden under the pretty dress and pinafore. It was easy for him to know that she was as excited as he; she was breathing hard and shivering.
When his hand first touched the lush swell of her innocent breast his gnarled old cock shot off just a bit of come. He clenched his jaws and fought the orgasm back. His hands shook, as did the rest of his body. When in control again - only just - he continued, and cupped first one gently mounded breast and then the other. It was as though every power of lust in his body was released at that moment, and he became like a man possessed himself.
Becky sensed and then felt his agitation and she began to cry aloud. "Father! Oh, Father!"
Her childish little voice was like a splash of cold water, filled with panic as it was. Although he was a dedicated pederast, a child-molester of the first order, he was careful. He had to be; he knew that.
"Relax, Becky," he told her, his voice soothing. His hand began to rub her delectable breasts comfortingly. "Relax, now. There's no harm. I will protect you from the demons. I will exorcise them."
"Exercise, Father?"
"Exorcise, my child. I will drive them out. I must find them and drive them from your poor, sin-filled body." As if to underline his aim, he began to work his rough scaly finger farther up into her innocent cunt, wriggling it so that she could certainly feel it. "Now that doesn't hurt, does it?"
She choked back a sob and licked her lips. "No-"
"Fine." He sent it up into the tight slick wetness as far as he could, even spreading her frail legs a bit. He noticed that she was really taking it all very well. He smiled. "Becky, this matter of purifying you may hurt. You want to be pure for the Virgin Mother and for Jesus, don't you?"
"I - I - guess so."
"Of course you do! But it might hurt. Now, I want you to confess to me: Do you play with yourself, Becky?"
"Play with myself?"
"You know. Nasty. Down here." He wriggled his stubby finger.
"Not like you're doing-"
"Now, Becky, we're not talking about what I'm doing! Never mind about this purification! I want to know if you play with yourself down there. Or think about boys or girls playing with it."
"I have, Father. I confess it," she said quietly.
"Ahhh, that's nice that you admit it, anyway. I want to see how you do it, so you can be forgiven. So I can purify you."
"You want me to show you?" She was shocked, even though she was only twelve.
"I want you to take off your clothes - oh, by the way, do you play with yourself in bed?"
"Yes, Father."
"Very well, come along!" He unplugged himself from her tiny slit and took hold of her hand. Then, moving quickly, he led her to his spare bedroom. There he threw the covers back and put his hand on his hips. "Take off your clothes, now, Becky. Don't worry. I'm a priest, you know, and am a man of God. I will pray for the removal of those evil spirits from you."
She looked at the man. He seemed determined to have it his way but he also seemed authentic about wanting to purify her. She wanted to cry, but she stepped out of the tiny dress and pinafore. As though she were very retarded, she then stopped, her mouth open.
"The shoes and stockings, Becky, and the panties."
Her eyes clouded over. She went to sit on the bed while she removed her shoes and socks.
Cinder wanted to jack off right there and then. He could see her gently mounding breasts easily now, and they appeared to be much smaller than they had felt in his hands. They were like smooth tents of soft flesh, capped with almost white delicious nipples. Looking closely, he could see that the delicately formed breasts shaded from the white of the skin to a very pale pink at the incredibly soft little girl nipples. Her succulent aureoles were already the size of quarters. As she bent forward to undo the gold buckles of her shoe, the little tit tents appeared to be a bit larger. His blood-filled cock was going crazy.
She finished with the shoes and stockings and stood. Looking around the room quickly, she was glad to see pictures of Jesus and Mary and God, plus numerous crucifixes and some crossed palm fronds. She crossed herself, rattled off a mechanical prayer, and hooked her thumbs into the elastic waist-band of her cotton panties. Then, resigned, she pushed the cheap little panties down.
Cinder gulped and swallowed nothing but dry air. His gnarled old hands went wet and trembled. He couldn't have blinked for ready cash. He was focused on her shapeless little pussy. She was giving him a profile. He was irritated when she lifted the leg toward him first, but then he was delighted; he saw the little unformed slit of her edible cunt. Another small drop of come forced its way out of his twisted cock and he groaned deep in his throat.
The other leg went up and he saw the beginning of the passionately desired slit as she removed the panties. It was a virgin sight to boil the blood of the most experienced old pederast.
She turned, innocent and completely naked, and faced him.
"All right, Becky. I want you to get into bed now. Lie down just as you do when you intend to play with yourself."
She sat on the bed and looked up at him helplessly. "But I can't!"
"What do you mean, you can't? Of course you can!" He had a hard time talking evenly; his voice was quivering because of his intense excitement.
"I can't! I couldn't. Not in front of you! Besides-"
"Besides what? Aren't you in the mood?" he asked. "No."
"Just wait a minute, then." He walked to the dresser and took out a small packet of color pictures, three by five glossies. He went to the bed beside her and handed them to her. "Look at these, Becky, and see if they help."
She took them and looked at them. Then she gasped and took a closer look. "Why, it's you! And this, right here, I know her! That's Kathy Donleavy from down the street!"
His enormous hand went into her frail lap and he worked her shapeless legs apart. He then worked his rough finger into her incredibly small cunt again as she continued talking.
"Why are you on top of her like that?" she asked.
"I am purifying her, Becky. I purify all the girls around here." His crude finger worked her tiny twat into a lubricated wetness.
Becky stared at the color print. She saw huge Father Cinder on top of little Kathy, and Kathy's frail legs were apart and her little knees were up in the air. Kathy was her age and they went to the same parochial school together. She went to the next picture. Jimmy Weems! "You purify boys, too?"
"Of course, Becky." His other old hand was once again working her small mountain-like breasts and he was twirling her innocent nipple between his thumb and forefinger in an attempt to get it hard. Nothing at all was happening; that he could feel. His rugged finger was tight into her little pussy, all the way up to the untouched hymen, which was intact.
The workings in her innocent cunt and on her frail nipple were actually arousing Becky, even though she knew that he was now being more sinful than holy. She thought that any demon in her was one with a fingernail. But it didn't hurt too much, and she thought that there might be something to what he was saying about purification. But sticking his ugly old penis into a little boy's mouth! She was glad that she wasn't a young boy. She certainly didn't want to have his big old penis in her mouth. And the fat penis was so large! She had seen her brother's thing and it was nothing like what Father Cinder had.
Going oh to the next picture, she groaned and looked away. It was her older sister, the ugly penis in her mouth. And Father Cinder's big finger was up her sister's little pussy.
"Ah, yes," Cinder said, "I remember how Denise liked it the evening I purified her." He chuckled and then kissed Becky on the cheek.
She pulled away and frowned, moving quickly on to the next photo. Another snapshot of Denise, this time a close-up of her small face and the tip of his bulging penis, all red and hard. White stuff was coming out of the penis tip and splashing on Denise's face. On the cheeks, nose, in the hair, into the mouth. Even though the small mouth was open, Becky could see that her sister was smiling. She shuddered and looked away. Quite by accident she glanced at Father Cinder's lap. Something was making his pants tent 'way up. Her gaze fixed on it.
He noticed. Without a word he removed his hand from her tit and unzipped his fly. Then he pulled his huge old cock out. "Is this what you were thinking about, Becky?"
She was horrified. "Nooo ..."
"Of course you were! Now confess!" Father said.
She thought. It was the truth. In a very small voice she said, "I guess I was, Father."
"Touch it. Go ahead, don't be afraid," he said.
She looked at it. It was huge. Almost as big around as her arm. And it stuck straight up. He wants me to touch it? How should I? She moved her tiny index finger tentatively forward and it moved slowly toward the evil-smelling old penis. Then, with the tip of her tiny finger, she lightly touched the gnarled shaft, right in the middle. As soon as she did she withdrew her small hand and was glad that that was over with. But it wasn't.
"Oh, Becky, grab it! Grab it like a pole on the Jungle Jim. Hard. Go ahead, it won't bite you!" He laughed good-naturedly.
She was worried, but she closed her eyes good and tight, took a deep breath, and reached for it. Gosh, it's hot! And thick! It feels like it's alive in my hand! Something inside it is moving. Throbbing! She released the big club and grabbed it several different ways.
Superb! Cinder was thinking. By God, I have done it again! Feel the way the stupid little shit is grabbing my tool! I'll have it in her little mouth before the hour is finished! Grab it, you little bitch! Jack it up and down! Beat me off, you little titless wonder! Do a good job and I'll fix you!
The enormous penis held a strange fascination for Becky. She was afraid of it but yet she felt drawn to it. Her small hand opened and closed on it and she stroked it slightly. Then, abruptly, she stopped. "I can play with myself now," she told him.
He beamed. "Very well, child. 111 leave this out for you to think about. It will purify you, so you think about that. Oh, and be sure to think about the Virgin Mother too."
He watched with hot eyes as she rolled over onto the middle of the bed. On her slim back. She spread her frail legs, lifted her knees, and put the fingers of her tiny hand against her lush-looking pussy. No hair. Her unformed tits weren't even discernible as she lay there like that. But her lavish pink aureoles were there all right.
She began, her eyes glued to his vein-twisted cock which sprouted out from his black trousers. She had never thought of Father Cinder as a man with a penis. Now she knew he had a huge one; she had felt it. She thought about the pictures, about that ugly penis sticking into her very own sister's little mouth, and she began to work her tiny fingers against that place where it always felt so very good. As she worked her unclaimed pussy that wonderful warm feeling began to build in her. Her heart beat faster. Breath came hard, in dry gasps. Her small face became hot and red, she knew. Her tiny shell-like ears began to ring. Her focus centered on that vein-roped cock and its glowing red tip. Things around it blurred. As she began to get hot her small bottom quivered. Hips ground around. She was approaching a minor climax.
Cinder saw that she was just about there, and threw off his clothes as though they were on fire. He was naked in thirty seconds and jumped atop her immediately.
Surprised by what she saw and then terrified by the attack, Becky screamed.
He clasped his huge hand roughly over her tiny moist mouth, muffling her. "Shh! I'm about to purify you! Now pray!"
When she relaxed under him he removed his odorous hand. She said, "You frightened me."
"Oh, don't be afraid, child. But you're no longer ready! Now here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to stimulate you by rubbing you. I want you to rub my cock-"
"Cock?"
"My penis. Cock. Prick."
"All right," said Becky very grudgingly.
Father Cinder turned end for end so that she could get to his cock and so that she was closer to him. He moved his big face close to her untested pussy and hovered above it, looking carefully at the small but delicious-looking mound. He inserted his stubby finger as far as he could and then pulled it out. He smelled it and then put the big finger into his mouth, drawing it out slowly, cleaning her succulent little girl juice off as he did. It was simply delicious. "Becky, I'm going to purify you with my mouth first, and I want you to take my cock into your mouth, as far as you can. Try very hard because it's important."
She gulped. The evil-looking cock was aiming right at her face. It stank of old, dirty underwear. She saw some white crust right behind the almost rose-colored knob. It seemed too large to fit into her small mouth, that large red bulb-like end. But she had to do it. After all, Father Cinder-. "All right."
She was stiff and shivering. When she felt his hairy chest press against her side she stiffened even more. But then she felt his foul breath against her quivering pussy and a shot of anticipation raced through her. When she felt his face, with the fine yet rough graze of stubble, she really tensed. Gosh, is he really going to put his mouth down where I pee? I must smell awful down there even though I had a bath.
Her question was answered. She felt the tongue. It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. The tongue seemed to be enormous and electric or magic. It was so smooth and wonderful. Just then she became aware of the enormous cock in her tiny face. It was there and there was nothing she could do about it. She had to cross her eyes to focus on it. Its stink was overpowering her, dizzying her, making her eyes water and her mouth go dry. And beneath it, lying in front of but against his hairy legs, was a sack of skin, holding something- two things. She looked at them and couldn't figure it out. Moving slightly, she freed an arm and reached out to touch that sack. She took it into her hands. Strange feelings shot through her when they were in her hand. Just that touch was enough to make her close her eyes, open her mouth, and move forward.
She felt the huge slick knob with her little lips first. It sent electric charges against her lips and made them tingle just a bit. Something about the touch aroused her. Of course, his huge tongue in her little-girl cunt was also exciting her. But her attention was focused on the ugly cock. The odor was still heavy in her nostrils, but it didn't make her sick now. Instead it smelled close, delicious. Impulsively, she took the whole big knob into her mouth and gave the scrotum a small squeeze. She heard Father Cinder moan but it sounded to her like it was a noise of pleasure. She therefore squeezed them more, and began to lick on the big bulb of his hot twisted cock. His big hand came down slowly and pressed her frail head. She understood, and opened her small mouth wider. With real determination she tried to take the blood-pounding cock 'way into her mouth. It was only just a bit in and was tight against the back of her slim mouth. Much too thick and long to go any farther. That was as far as it would go, and that, as far as Becky was concerned, was that.
She licked down on that part of the cock that wasn't in her mouth. Then she pulled back and licked all the white cheese off the shaft, where the wrinkled rings of skin were stretched and red. She bit the huge knob a bit and thought that it was like living rubber. The tiny tip of her tongue pressed into the smoothness of the slit at the tip. Still she fondled his hair-covered balls.
What he was doing to her with his tongue took her breath away. It was spearing into her and she could feel it go way up. But the best was when he would lick or nip her little clitoris. She wanted to tell him that, but her small mouth was full. Besides, he was moving his hips now so that his cock was going in and out of her mouth. She bit the back of the knob as he was withdrawing it, and that way he knew when to push in again. She noticed that he was going faster and faster, and he was licking harder too.
His hands coursed over her, cupping her fire-hot breasts and then tweaking her tiny nipples. They went to her smooth little fanny. She didn't like that at all! His rough fingers sneaked into the slim crack and she tightened it. She didn't want anything - not even a skinny little thermometer - stuck up her seat! Enemas made her wild with discomfort. Pulling away from his probing hands she thrust her unformed pussy harder onto his sucking mouth.
And Cinder was sucking. Every new child's cunt was a joy beyond description to him. None was better; they were all superb. To his mind, there was simply nothing better than very young cunt, unless it was a very young little prick. He even liked it when the children would piss in his mouth. That was a high for him.
Now his huge old tongue was well up into her and he felt the tight little ridges. Her lubricants were delightful. And they were flowing generously. He was about to come, and wanted to stick his scratchy finger up to her too-tight asshole but she was fighting him about that. Nothing to do but let it go for the moment. His come was rushing up and he was moving into her smartly, out of control. Any second.
She was making it too. She thrust her hairless mound against his face and growled from deep in her little throat. Her lush little tits were ablaze. She was beginning to twitch; it was to be a really powerful climax for her.
With clashes and flashes she came, and at the same time a charge of liquid came out of the tip of his burgeoning cock and filled her tiny mouth so that she gagged and almost choked. She swallowed as fast as she could, and caught up, tasting some of it that was left on her lips by his cock as it moved in and out. She was crushed by a wave of embarrassment suddenly. She had done something very nasty, and right in the priest's mouth. She tried to push herself away but he held her firm. The shaggy balls in her hand seemed to be moving, shrinking and expanding. It was eerie and scared her. In her mouth the huge cock was changing too. It also swelled and relaxed. And then, after a few seconds, it began to get soft.
She was flushed and exhausted.
Father Cinder was just getting ready. The first load - if he could hold it - was always for the child's mouth, during the initial seduction, anyway. The second load was always better. It would take a few minutes, of course, to get an erection again. In the meantime, the sport with the children was better undertaken in a state of tranquility.
Finally Becky was released. When she looked at him he was smiling.
She wondered what he was smiling about.
Chapter II
The kids out on the play yard were talking. Some knew that Becky had had a spat with the Livercum brothers. And some others winked knowingly. "He's fucking her," they said, and laughed about it.
Little Cherry Peterson, a Lutheran girl who was just playing there with her girl friend, heard it. "What does 'fuck' mean?" she asked. Only seven.
"Fuck?" her girl friend repeated. "That's what mommies and daddies do. Making babies that way, they do. Daddy sticks his thing in mommie's pee-er and they go back and forth fast. You never see your mommie and daddie fucking?"
"Ohhh, no!" Cherry's hands were covering her mouth and her eyes were wide. "Is that nice Becky Father Cinder's- well like mommie? I mean, if he's Father?"
"Oh, naw, silly! She's jus' a big girl. Twelve! Father Cinder, he is fucking wit' all us kids! Purifies us!" She smiled so broadly at Cherry that Cherry thought it must be all right, even if he wasn't a real father and she wasn't a real mother.
Just as he sat, the phone rang. He moved to the extension beside the bed, still smiling at Becky. "Good afternoon, Father Cinder here."
It was a call from the Lakeside Settlement house director, Sister Jean. "Hello, Father. Sister Jean."
"Ah! How are you?" Then, before she could answer, "What makes you call me at a time like this?"
"You were busy?"
"Well, nothing that can't wait. What can I do for you?"
"We would like you - if you could - to lecture for our youth-parent meeting."
"When?"
"That's the tough part. I wish I could say tomorrow."
"You mean tonight?"
There was a pause. Then: "Ummm, yes. Could you? As a special favor?"
"What's the matter, your other speaker get sick?"
"No, Father. There was a mix-up. My fault, I guess. But we are having a psychologist speaking. Misunderstanding. We wanted him to speak on photography because he's one of the local experts on amateur photography. He thought that we meant pornography! I almost fainted when I talked to him a few minutes ago. But I figured: Maybe that would be okay. You see, he's for pornography for adults-"
"ABSURD! Pornography, in whatever form, is filth!"
"I know, Father-"
"I'll be there! What time?" His blood was really pounding. He had even forgotten about Becky, who was listening with great admiration.
"Seven-thirty, Father."
"I'll be there, you bet!"
"We knew that you'd be glad to take up the challenge, Father."
"I certainly am! See you at seven-fifteen!" he said.
"Good-bye,- Father."
"Good-bye, Sister Jean." He hung up and he shook with rage. Another one of those intellectuals, eh? A sexual intellectual - a fucking wise-guy! Well, I'll show him a thing or two! Fill the nation's mailboxes with smut, will he? Ruin little minds? He has to be a pretty fucked-up individual to think that pornography has no harmful effects!
Becky coughed and he jumped, caught in the daydream where he is King George slaying the pornographic dragon with a cock called Excalibur.
As suddenly as his crusading fervor came over him it left, thrust out by the sight of the ready little girl on the bed beside him. Her tiny legs were pressed tightly together and her frail shoulders were hunched forward, emphasizing the small gently-mounding breasts so that they appeared to be much larger. His gnarled cock twitched and that warmth crept through his groin. That delicious feeling. He remembered what a delightful little cocksucker the child was and the big cock stirred, crawled around a bit, and then began to jack up as it filled with blood pumped by his desire.
Her little eyes fell and she saw it. A gasp escaped and she moved back just a bit.
"Oh, Becky, I see that you're timid about your purification! Don't be, please! I have something. Something that will make it much easier for you." He glanced at his wrist watch. Only four-fifteen. Plenty of time. He walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a tube of salve and unscrewed the top. "Becky, I want you to get into a position on the bed as though you were praying. On your elbows and knees. Now I don't want you to cry, no matter how much this hurts. Brave girl?"
She was terrified. He's rubbing something like Vaseline on his - cock! It's as big as it was before! He's going to put it in my fanny, I just know it! "You won't... in my fanny, will you, Father?"
Oh, she doesn't like that, eh? "No, child.
In your cunt." "Cunt?"
"Your cunt. Pussy. What I had my tongue in. That's where you have to be purified. About the other, well, we'll see. If you're a good little girl, why then of course I won't..." He left it open and he saw by the fall of her expression that she understood exactly what he meant.
Outside, the kids were whooping and hollering. Their sounds came into the dim room.
*'Now then, Becky, up onto your elbows and knees, just like you're going to pray."
She followed his orders.
He got up onto the bed behind her. His big bouncing cock was already greased. He squeezed some of the jelly out onto his rough finger and wiped it all around the edges of her little cunt lips. There was not one strand of hair. And her beautiful little asshole, that tight, brown knot, called to him. He spread her slim cheeks, always ready for a pleasant little diversion when it came to playing with children, and he planted a wet kiss right on her asshole. He was sure to let his tongue go in just a bit. "Did you mind that?"
Becky had to admit that she didn't mind it at all.
Armed with that, he kissed her there again, sticking his tongue all the way in this time and sucking.
She lurched under him. "Nooo," she moaned, trying to close her asshole.
He pulled his tongue out and tasted his surprise. Then, very hot, he finished dabbing the jelly into her pretty little pussy and threw the tube onto the bedside table. His big cock was straining, but he knew that he would be able to go at it for quite a while before orgasm. And tight kid cunts, he knew, were very exciting. He had lost count, but he figured his conquests to total at least two hundred boys or girls. He took great pride in the fact that he had never fucked one person over fifteen (except for the time he and the Mother Superior from St. Steven's got drunk and got it on together).
She was right for him.
And she was scared half to death. Her formless fanny was right up in the air, for him to see. Exposed.
Yes, exposed. He couldn't resist. "Brace yourself." He put his rough finger right into her tight little asshole and she cried out and fell forward, grabbing at his big hands. He wriggled the scaly finger inside her and then pulled it out. After smelling it, he licked it clean and hoisted her up. "All right, that's enough of that. Now I want you to brace yourself, like I said. You haven't been purified yet, I can see that. It will hurt. Just pray."
She prayed. And she shook, shivered, and quivered. She felt him come over her. His hairy chest tickled against her back and his hairy legs tickled against the sides of hers.
She felt his breath wheeze. It smelled like stale pizza. His huge hands went under her and cupped the delicate swells of her breasts. She liked that all right. But then she felt that cock. It was huge and blunt and hot against her little pussy slit, pressing.
If she had ever known a moment of panic and fear, this was it. The two big strong hands were clutching her trembling little breasts, lifting her against his broad and hairy chest. His legs were outside of hers, tight against them. And that huge hot, blunt thing was pressing hard against her minute cunt. She couldn't move. It was like she was caught in a trap that held her hand-and-foot. She tried to breathe, to inhale so she could scream or plead, make some kind of deal. But everything became lost in a whirl of wild, dizzying panic. She felt about to faint, and gasped. It was clear to her that she wouldn't be able to talk. The thing pressed harder. Mustering all of her strength, she tried to bolt, break away. He held her.
The enormous cock pressed against the fragile little lubricated pussy lips. He put a bit more push behind it.
She felt it as the delicate lips of her innocent flesh parted. A searing pain knocked her breath out and she cried out as it left. Shots of sheer pain radiated out from her torn little bottom, aches worse than teeth being pulled. She felt the steady entry, the penetration. She could hear the inside of her still untouched pussy stretching, smell the little-girl blood that had to be pouring out, see the rips. "Stop!" she finally cried, "Oh! Please stooo-"
He shot forward and clapped a big rough hand over her small mouth. Hid blood-engorged cock went in so that she had taken the whole knob. Eight long hard inches left to go. He had seen some little girls who just couldn't take all of his full-grown cock, but none were over ten. He was an expert on the capacity of little girls to take man-sized cock up their tortured slits.
But the young virgins were always a delight. So tight! So frightened. Just like a rape!
Becky was outraged. She tried to bite his rough old hand because he was cutting off her wind with it. The pain in her violated virgin pussy was so bad that she tried to pee, but couldn't. He was hurting her and she knew it. God, how can I get out of this? He's killing me! I don't like this! I want my mom or dad! He's hurting me!
Father Cinder appreciated the fact that Becky was probably tender down there, and might be undergoing some slight discomfort. But he chuckled about it. If it's tight, they can feel it. If not, I can't. And if there's anything that is a waste of time, it's a loose cunt! Now these children of mine, they all have very tight cunts. And tighter assholes! Ahhh, yes. God sure knew what He was doing when He gave little girls cunts and assholes! And boys little peckers and tight little assholes. All except for that O'Brien kid. Only twelve, and what a cock! He can fuck me any day!
He looked down, through the divide of her immature ass, at his throbbing cock just wedged into her tightly stretched child's cunt. He wished that he had his camera just then. But lots of time. He thrust his stretch-marked hips forward, still holding her frail mouth and one tiny tit. He pinched the nipple as he jammed again. As he shot in this last time he made progress. He felt the tight walls of her little girl cunt slip deliriously over the skin of his adult cock. He was in control. No orgasm for a long time yet. He pulled his slime-coated cock out a bit. It had gone about half way in. Now it was out so that only the knob itself was inside those cute little hps. He rammed forward, plunging the slick cock in about six inches.
Becky was going through the worst case of terror and panic any little girl could imagine. Utterly trapped, she was being raped with no finesse at all. The pain wouldn't let up. She couldn't cry out because he had his hand tight over her mouth. Her nose was stuffed up and she was also panicking because she couldn't breathe. And that enormous cock! It kept going in and out! Stretching and ripping and hurting! Who wants to be purified? Did Denise really go through something like this? Oh, my gosh!
He knelt above the child, pinching her tiny nipple and clasping her small mouth closed.
He looked down and watched his progress. His thrusts were becoming easier and he was almost there. An inch more to go. He pulled all the way back, until just the knob was in. Then, with a tremendous lurch, he thrust forward, ramming his man's cock against her high and very elastic child's cherry. It snapped, letting him slam right up against her ass with his pelvis.
Becky's troubles culminated in one blinding flash of cutting pain. It was like lightning had struck her in her delicate flower-petal cunt. But at the same time, right beyond the far fringe of the burning pain, she felt something else. It was a lurking excitement. Her slender body felt it. Her body told her mind to relax. Relax now, and feel. Relax, the worst is over. Relax, you are a child woman. She tried to, but the pain still burned. And the huge cock was filling her frail cunt and stomach. Stifling her. But somehow, she could feel it vibrate, and that buzz called to something deep inside her. She tried to relax and slumped.
Father Cinder felt the tension leave her minute body and thought that it might be safe, finally, to release his sweating hand from her tiny mouth. He did, and he was right. He heard her faint gasp as she sucked in a great breath of air. "Are you all right? No more pain?"
She only shook her head. She saw that the sheet below her was dark with her childish tears. The pain was still there, way up in her tight little stomach. But it had a partner. She wondered if it would ever feel good. But mostly, she wanted to go home.
"All right, Becky. You're relaxed. Good. I am now going to purify you. Just listen to what I have to say, and it will be good for you." He clutched her small hips and slowly withdrew his long twisted cock. Then, gently, he pushed it in. The slick walls of her child's cunt were tight, stimulating. They seemed to clasp his enormous cock, nibble at it with millions of small baby teeth of flesh. He watched it as it slithered in. Tight, and so hot, smooth, and wet!
Becky had braced herself for more pain, but she was amazed. No pain this time. Traces of the old pain remained, but they were going rapidly. Instead, that thrust of his long hard cock was like some brush inside her made by a magic wand. It was so good that it covered the pain. She found herself waiting for the next movement. It came, faster this time. Out, and then in. And out and in. And again and again, faster and faster. Becky was starting to cooperate, pulling when he did, pushing when he did. They were working together and the pain was now all gone for her. In its place was a fantastic stroke of pleasure. It shot through every cell in her tiny little body, to her frail fingertips and toes. She was now panting, but in ecstasy. Every slithering stroke satisfied something deep inside her, but every stroke also made the very same thing scream out for more. It satisfied and created a demand at the same time. But she knew what it was all building to; that sensation of orgasm was grumbling inside her, but stronger than ever before. It seized her much tighter than Father Cinder had. And much more pleasantly. She moaned. The ecstasy was supreme.
Father Cinder was glad that she was getting it on with him so well. He smiled as he plunged his huge hydrant into her slim socket. She was bucking like a real whore, something he liked in a small child. He was really throwing a grown-up fuck into her and, as he went in and out, his fertile mind planned for the future.
They thrashed together like a couple of veterans.
Becky knew, as her climax bubbled up, what purification was all about. It hit her like a tornado, spinning her and sending her flying through the air. She cried out and bucked back, her unformed ass wriggling back against him and shaking like an infant rattlesnake's tail. Her kid cunt sucked at the man cock, trying to get every last drop of his come.
And he shot plenty into her, splashing it against the very top of her near-virgin pussy. He held her small legs tightly as he pumped his gushing semen into her.
She felt it with her slim belly. The message got through and she cried out in delight. When it was over she slumped forward, ready to fall asleep. Completely satisfied.
Chapter III
Before he left, Father Cinder had a chat with Becky. They prayed together and he patted her on the fanny.
She left, with mixed emotions. She had taken a bath and saw that she was bleeding. Father Cinder explained that the blood was normal and that next time there wouldn't be any blood. She had had the curse before, so the blood itself didn't frighten her. It was just that she wasn't prepared for it.
Now she was sore. The thrill of the pleasure was nothing to her but a memory, while the pain was right there, stabbing her in the cunt. She was chafed between the legs and her tits were sore. Her mind was whirling. Beyond everything, though, she was looking forward to next time.
Then he left. He drove across town to the Lakeside Settlement House and arrived at precisely seven-fifteen.
Sister Jean greeted him and gave him a quick rundown on what the psychologist said his main points were going to be. She then gave him a cup of coffee and commented on how good he was looking. Nice and trim. Fit.
"Good, clean living," he told her, "and plenty of the right kinds of exercise."
"What about your diet?" she asked. "You cook for yourself still, don't you?"
"Don't believe in servitude at all. I eat plenty of the right things, properly prepared." He smiled disarmingly at her, his mind playing with thoughts of the afternoon's fare.
Ten minutes later he met Dr. Willoughby and the two men shook hands, much like two contestants for the middleweight crown in Madison Square Garden.
Willoughby was, obviously, the first to speak.
The audience was quiet except for one baby who squalled once in a while.
He smiled and surveyed them. "Ladies and gentlemen," he began, "the subject tonight, as you no doubt know, is pornography. Now, what, exactly, is pornography?" He paused. "Pornography is many things, actually. One has to say that it is subjective."
Father Cinder coughed loudly into his hand.
Dr. Willoughby raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes. Now, by subjective I mean that pornography is something that each person has to determine for himself. It's not unlike the concept of feeling good, or even liberty."
"Excuse me, Doctor," Father Cinder interrupted from his place well behind the speaker's platform, "but how can you make a connection between pornography, feeling good, and liberty?"
"If I'm not mistaken, Sir, we are to have a discussion period immediately following the initial presentation of material-?"
"Well, it's obvious that you're already trying to pervert the minds of the youngsters present. As an ordained functionary of the Church, I simply must object."
Dr. Willoughby turned and leaned against the podium so he could regard the fervent little priest. "Sir," he said, "it is my understanding that this was to be an open exposition, aired for the mature..." His glance left little doubt what he had in mind.
But Father Cinder was too upset already to notice. "There are young, forming minds present, Doctor. I demand that you defer to them and kindly confine yourself to an exposition of your nefarious views with less salaciousness!"
"Very well." That was said with a large smile.
"As I was saying, pornography is a matter of opinion. What one person may regard as obscene may be mere humor to another. And the world's great galleries are filled with works of art, both paintings and statues, that will qualify in many minds as lewd and lascivious representation totally lacking in socially redeeming value.
"There are four generally accepted criteria for the detection of so-called pornography. The materials in question must appeal to the base natures and/or prurient interests of the beholder. Further, they must go beyond the customary limits of candor while stimulating the viewer so effectively." He smiled, then went on:
"Finally, the material in question must be utterly devoid of redeeming social quality." He folded his hands over the top of the podium. "Now, as you can see, the definition of this so-called evil is hopelessly opaque. Unclear. It's unclear because only unclear minds trouble themselves with the hopeless task of definition-"
"NOW THAT'S ENOUGH, SIR!" Father Cinder was on his feet, shaking his finger at Dr. Willoughby.
Willoughby, accustomed to the unstable mind, accepted the outburst in a spirit of calmness. Well, he did smile a bit too broadly, just to rattle the priest's cage. It worked.
Cinder ran up to him, completely out of control. It was only with luck that he stopped short. "Sir," he shouted, "you may not use this property to espouse Communistic views!"
There was applause, scattered, from the audience. It grew. Pretty soon almost everybody in the audience was clapping and cheering. Father Cinder acknowledged the ovation with a curt nod. He threw a nasty glance at Willoughby and continued. "I warn you to watch yourself. This is America!"
"Do you really think so?"
"Now what do you mean by that?" Father Cinder asked.
"Ever hear of something called the First Amendment?"
"Of course I have! And I resent your impertinence! This is sacred Church property!"
"I thought you just said that it was America ..."
"That will do. You're dismissed!"
Willoughby laughed in his face. "Dismissed?"
"Dismissed. You've perverted quite enough with your Bolshevik Communist line! Next thing you'll be advocating the open use of heroin!"
"No. Others handle that. Heroin isn't my field."
"And neither is speaking to fine, Catholic young people, you pervert!" His face was bright red, making the pock marks stand out.
"Dismissed?" Willoughby pressed.
"Please leave this consecrated ground, now!"
Willoughby turned. "Thank you, ladies aaa-"
Father Cinder grabbed him by the arm and tried to whirl him around. "NOW!"
"And thank you, Sir, for your courtesy." Without another word, he strode off the platform, amid the railing jeers of the vindicated audience.
They hissed and hooted, tried to trip the Communist devil up, and then, when Father Cinder was left, the victor, a roar of enthusiastic applause rumbled through the hall.
He raised his hands for silence and the applause died slowly.
"Thank you, thank you! And now, having exorcised the demon, we can-"
But the roar of appreciative applause drowned him out.
He smiled, waved his arms like a victorious boxer or Deep South white candidate for political office. When the cheering died down a full thirty seconds later, Father Cinder was pumped full of the thrilling headiness of the popular speaker.
"Pornography is no matter of definition! It is no matter of opinion! IT ... IS ... SMUT! We all know what pornography is, don't we? I hate to borrow a trick from the tent-preachers, but those of you out there who don't know what it is, LET ME SEE YOUR HANDS!"
One little boy almost toward the back, a cute freckle-faced kid with bright red hair combed neatly, was the only one to lift his hand.
"GOOD FOR YOU, MY SON!" he shouted, pointing at the boy.
The mother was flustered and rapped the kid, but when everybody began to laugh she beamed, proud to be the mother of such a smart little boy. He had no idea - the boy - what in hell any of it was all about and he was missing Peyton Place.
Father Cinder, being editor of two church periodicals, was the opposite of a specialist. That is, he was a generalist. In this way, he had come to know less and less about more and more until he finally knew nothing about everything, a fine trait for a man in his position. And it is a fine trait for speakers, too.
By the time he was finished, the listeners were really impressed with his wide - er - acquaintance with things.
A sample review, by two parents: "Gosh, Al; wasn't he - ummm - I mean-"
"What the fuck was he talking about, anyway?"
"Smut, you silly sonofabitch!"
"Oh, yuh. Let's stop off at the Grove and get us some beer."
"All right." She had flaming panties for the bartender.
While they raced off in their new Lincoln Mark III Father Cinder was having a spot of sherry with Sister Jean.
"Just fill it up to the top, dear," he said.
"All right. You really told him!" Sister
Jean said.
"Yes. Yes, I did, didn't I?"
"You sure did. I was proud of you," she said.
"Do you suppose anybody else was proud of me?"
"Of course, Father! They were all proud of you!"
"You really think they were?" Father Cinder asked.
"I know they were!"
"What makes you think they were proud of me?" He beamed as he twirled his sherry.
"Well, they cheered! And clapped! And they laughed!"
Conspiratorial: "You don't think they were laughing at me, do you?"
"Oh, no! They were laughing at that horrible man, that tall, skinny Communist! You know, I can tell that he's a pervert! You can tell those evil men who read all that smut and - er - masturbate ..."
He regarded her narrowly and sipped his wine. "It takes a good eye and true heart, Sister Jean. But it can be done."
"I knew the minute I saw him!" she said.
"That slimy type. Adam's apples. Dead give-away, that. You show me a man with a bobbing Adam's apple and I'll show you a man who reads smut!"
"Father Cinder, you are the sort of man we need!"
Father Cinder looked at the stout nun but threw it away. He didn't want to further tarnish an almost perfect record, especially with a stout nun. Besides, he wasn't sexy just then.
Instead, he thought about tomorrow Tomorrow, with a new conquest, a new adventure.
Chapter IV
It would be hard, indeed, to give some idea about just how much really hard-core pornography Father Cinder perused in the course of his professional editorial duties. Quite a bit. But nothing, really, compared to what he consumed as an enthusiast. He was a veritable encyclopedia of sex-book jargon and, while puttering around in the kitchen, shucking oysters or coddling eggs, he would laugh as he muttered things like:
"Hot, sticky come!" Or, "Creamy-white thighs!" Or possibly, "Heavy, pendulous breasts with nipples like strawberries."
He himself had once tried to write a sex book for a prominent New York publisher. Under an assumed name, of course. He even used a mail blind that he found out about while reading the want ads of the Los Angeles Free Press. The manuscript was out for quite a while. Angered, he wrote a terse note to the house. He ended it with a clever phrase of his own fashioning, "-or else return it as I have several other irons in the fire!"
He received a very elaborate rejection letter. The editor handling his book began the letter with "I suggest you put this piece of shit-smeared depravity in with your other irons!" The person went on to say "-dogs fucking, dogs sucking; wildly characterized loonies doing utterly impossible things! Who you trying to shit, anyway? By page forty-four my mind was gone!"
Father Cinder noticed that the reviewing editor had run the X's right off the end of the recommendation sheet. He smiled. He had half a mind to tell that stupid reader that every single event in that manuscript was letter-true. It was merely a factual chronicle of two days of his life. But, upon reflection, he decided that the world was not ready. Still, that seven hundred tarnished bucks would buy a lot of color film ...
He had cast a glance at his collection of color photos and, contemplating fame to eclipse an emperor, thought about a racy and fat illustrated paperback. But he sighed and shook his head. His face was on all of his photos. He knew that it had to be that way; what good is it to have pictures of yourself fucking little ones if you can't see that it's really you?
After his fiasco at the typewriter, he contented himself with seducing little kids without writing about it. During the hundred and fifty hours it took him to write the book he could have spent three hours each with fifty children, certainly a better use of time for any self-respecting child molester.
Now that - child molester - was a term that made him wince. He saw how he might possibly be referred to by some as a child molester, but those people were wrong. He was a child-fucker. He didn't molest them, he fucked them. Molesting children, as far as he could see, was every bit as tricky - as far as the law was concerned - as plain fucking them. So he didn't waste much time in the act of molesting. That old candy bar routine by the play ground was for lunatics. Good way to get caught, or pick up on a dumb kid.
Father Cinder had planned his life out well. While still a youngster he knew that he wanted to be a pederast when he grew up. When all the other kids were telling then-uncles and aunts that they wanted to be firemen or pilots or brain surgeons, he told his that he full-well intended to be a pederast, just like Frank Harris.
The man who ran the Neighborhood House woodworking classes when Father Cinder was little Ritchie Cinder had introduced the boy - and several teenaged girls - to Frank
Harris in the small woodworking shop behind his house.
Howard McChesness, the instructor, couldn't stand people who whistled while they worked. Ritchie had his two front teeth missing when he first went to class, so he and McChesness hit it off marvelously. The first project for little Ritchie was the carving of a club from solid lemon wood, to be used for smashing rabbits to bits. It was while Ritchie was doing the handle that McChesness took him under his wing and introduced him to the fine art of window-peeping.
From there it was a quick step to copping feels from little girls. Very little girls. McChesness was a patient tutor, and Ritchie an apt student. He became an avid bus rider, specializing in rush hour transits of the city. He would come home and not wash his finger all night.
Together they worked out elaborate ploys for luring little girls into McChesness' shed, where they would "play" with the tykes to their heart's delight.
The sad day finally came when Mrs. McChesness, old and wrinkled, answered the door with tears in her eyes. She wrung her hands while telling Ritchie that Howard couldn't play. "But why can't Mr. McChesness come out and play, Mrs. McChesness?"
"He was arrested, for playing," she said.
Anyway, Howard - then sixty-seven - was sentenced to five years, the time to be served strictly within the confines of his own yard. He couldn't even go to the store. Since that was Mrs. McChesness' job anyway, it didn't make much difference. But he could still make rabbit bats and cat clubs. And he could stand on his grass and leer at the passing girls.
Ritchie visited him faithfully, and finally managed to talk some of the girls in his neighborhood to dress up like boys so they could get past the watchful eye of the police (because Howard was indicted for tampering with girls, not boys).
Thus began his apprenticeship and sweet-tooth for young stuff.
"You know," Howard told him one afternoon, "they say once a tiger eats human flesh it develops a craving for it."
Ritchie liked tigers.
He also liked certain types of human flesh and, like Howard's tigers, he developed a craving for it.
His parents noticed this strange behavior and sent him away to a parochial school for boys.
This is where he really found out about boys. Since there were no girls, boys had to do. Besides, he was at that age; about twelve.
The Brothers at the school were no slouches, though. They were, for the most part, well into the gay thing very heavily. "What the hell," was the philosophy, "the goddamn nuns are being fucked silly over at St. Catherine's!" There was talk about the use of dildos and vibrators at St. Catherine's, and one Brother swore on the Bible that they even had a statue of Jesus with a huge plaster prong, complete with snippable foreskin! The nuns and girls would fuck themselves on Jesus' cock after circumcising it, and one wall of the Mother Superior's study contained a vast collection of clippings.
It had also been bruited about that the nuns there were doing it for money. But those in the know scoffed. "That only goes on in the French convents!" Brother Luke snorted.
"How would you know?" Brother John retorted.
Brother Luke showed him and they kept it their secret.
The boarding school turned out some of the most clever young deviates in the history of Church education. The school motto was "AVANTI" and Ritchie Cinder, as was stated, was an avid student. He was class valedictorian and thus earned a scholarship to a prominent midwestem college, where he breezed through his courses as Brother Augustine. He emerged as Father Cinder, after a two-year stint teaching English and Church history.
Church history, properly studied, is the best background in the world for anyone who chooses to be an authority on pornography. And an English background also helps.
Thus Father Cinder was quick to understand why a church magazine queried him about his availability as chief editor of their product. It was a retirement magazine, published for old folks living in Phoenix and San Diego. He accepted with alacrity.
A real tiger, Father Cinder pulled a publishing coup by doing a period piece for the failing rag. The subject was smut, and on the front cover was the word "SMUT" in black block letters.
Sales of erotic materials in Phoenix and San Diego sky-rocketed, and the crime rate followed hand-in-hand. Drunkenness and forgery had a heyday. There were seventeen major embezzlements in the three days that followed the increased sales of spicy books and magazines. One airliner was hijacked, something unheard of before that time. Seven cases of bigamy were uncovered.
J. Edgar Hoover had this to say:
"The circulation of periodical [sic] containing salacious material, and highly suggestive and offensive motion pictures and television, play an important part in the development of crime among our youth."
Father Cinder certainly agreed. A man to ride the tide, he immediately went to Balboa Park, where he intended to solicit a bit of help pigeon-feeding. Although it was warm, he wore his black overcoat. There was a bag of popcorn. He sat. He tore a small hole in the bottom of the bag and put the bag in his lap. He banked the bag with the sides of his overcoat. He unzipped his fly and inserted his erection into the bag, where it was concealed from view by the white puffs of buttered popcorn.
Anon, a little girl with blonde hair and blue eyes, came skipping by. "Good afternoon, Father," she said, quite automatically.
"Stop, little girl! Feed some pigeons this fine day!"
She stopped, thought about it, and skipped on back.
Now this was Cinder's first score in San Diego. In fact, it was his first tally whacker Tally-Ho since leaving the confines of that mid western college. He was understandably all excited.
The little girl curtsied to him, lifted her red dress up in the back, and plopped down on the bench.
Father Cinder saw immediately that she was a class child.
She took a small handful of the expanded grain and cast it lovingly to the waiting pigeons.
They appreciated it, and ate.
She threw more.
He felt the dry rustling of the kernels against his throbbing weapon. He tried his best to look respectable.
Pretty soon more pigeons came, as pigeons will.
The popcorn was going fast.
She finally fingered his knob and stopped.
"My goodness, Father, there's a prize in your popcorn!"
"There certainly is, child!" And he patted her blonde head.
She grabbed it and tugged on it, trying to yank it out.
It wouldn't come.
"It won't come!" she told him, about to cry.
"Yank harder. It'll come, all right!" he said.
She yanked harder, and it came, all right. It spurted a veritable geyser right into her face.
She knew that he had tricked her and pouted at him. "I'm gonna tell my mommie on you!" she bawled.
"Aw, fuck you, kid!" he snarled, and scared her so that she wet her pants. Then he hurried out of there and hailed a cab.
All over town other youngsters were doing the same thing. They were being lured into sleek new automobiles by retired brain surgeons, trapped on elevators by real estate promoters from Muncie, Indiana, and fondled in dark movie houses showing Walt Disney films by retired Navy pilots. Word of this blared out in the San Diego Union (June 22, 1966):
"San Diego County District Attorney on June 21, 1966, reported an increase in child molestation cases in the county, compared with a similar period the previous year.
"He said he believed that pornographic material has played a part in the increase of child molesters in this area. He added that stronger laws against pornography would be of considerable help in combating the offenses."
"Goddamn right!" Father Cinder affirmed. "Fucking pornography is wrecking my bit!" But he saw how the youth was to blame. Philosophical, and basically generous, he was prepared to finger children as the cause of child-molesting. No children, no child molesting. Now that was Aristotlian logic at its finest!
Hoover obviously agreed, since he alluded to pornography as playing an important part "in the development of crime among our youth." Hoover - as any agent of the FBI will be quick to state - thinks that any fucking is a crime. And the children who are raped are as guilty (albeit under a different scale) as the rapist. For this reason the hottest FBI men have their nuts cut off when they get their hair cut off. But that's a separate can of beans.
Cinder had to think, there at first, out in the world. The circulation of his magazine soared. He chucked out all that shit about butterflies and gardens and wrinkled those previously pious pages with really scorching sorties against smut. Smut. The very hottest four-letter-word of all!
Father Cinder was above average in intelligence, as all men who prefer little girls to old hags are. But he wasn't terribly smart. He thought that he could bring pornography down by harping. What he did was incite to lust. He appealed to base natures and prurient interests, and exceeded the customary limits of candor doing so. Thus his faithful flocked to the paperback stores to buy up the last books or magazines that he blasted in his column. It got so that the publishers were sending blondes to his offices with crisp, green thousand-dollar bills. A kiss of death from him meant a winner! Even starving authors wrote up to him from their dusty lairs in Guadalajara, offering to set him up to blast their crops, whatever that meant.
It all complicated matters for the poor, boggled man. He was even thinking about doing a novina. Instead, he did a little red-haired girl, the daughter of a blind woman who sold copies of the Watchtower on Lower Broadway by the Fleet Landing.
Father Cinder one day found himself right in the middle of the spotlight, and did he like it! A fine religious gentleman came to him to ask his advice for an official report of the real filthy nature of pornography. The President of the United States, it was rumored, was to view this report.
Father Cinder was all thumbs. He couldn't talk. After a few stiff drinks, they finally got it on together and looked at Father Cinder's best Arabic line drawings, guaranteed to raise a stiffie on a female corpse. After a bit of sixty-nine they traded secrets.
There was a meeting of the minds. The gentleman, who shall remain unnamed for purposes of side-stepping heavy legal action, was handsome. The American Ideal, he was tall, had wavy blond hair that shone in the sun, and a strongly-featured face with a ruddy complexion. He had super hps.
Alas, he, too, had hangups about young stuff. He was, at that time, the country's most-dominant anti-smut crusader. He even had his own club, which shall also go unnamed. Now this man had access to a high-ranking official ear, for what that's worth. Maybe he put his tongue in it. Who knows? Who'd want to? Anyway, the two became fast friends. After they parted, panting and happy, Father Cinder suggested that they go out and rape some children.
This struck his visitor as an admirable idea, and they sallied forth in Cinder's black Fleetwood in search of unwary prey.
Down on the corner of India and Date they found two young Italian girls, both a trifle old, but suitable. One was wearing a pornographic miniskirt and the other was wearing revealingly tight bell-bottoms.
Anna Maria Scugnizzi and her sister Nuccia were just playing ball-the-jack as this Cadillac slides to a stop beside them. Before they know what's on, they're into the car, the back seat, and they're upside down! It was Father Cinder's new friend, playing on a
Friday night after a hard week. First thing, he tried to fit the fat girl's - Nuccia's - face over his faucet. She resisted, since the whole thing was new to her.
Cinder's friend relented, righted her, and sat her properly on the burgundy brocade beside him.
He looked at their catch and muttered, "Mmm, delicious!"
Nuccia accepted the compliment with reservations.
"Would you like something to drink?"
"Do you have a Dr. Pepper?"
He told her that all they had was some booze. That she didn't want any was all right with him, since it would spoil the fresh taste of her saliva. The saliva of young girls was like ambrosia to him. He noticed that Cinder was driving down toward National City. "Where are we going?"
"Tijuana?" Cinder replied as though looking for confirmation.
"No. Let's go to your place."
Cinder got off the freeway and headed back. He was alone up in the front of the car.
In back, his friend was playing with the girls expertly. Neither was giving him much trouble. The taller one, Anna Maria, was almost blonde, and had huge tits. Nuccia was much prettier, and was a young girl in the classical Italian tradition. She had large, dark eyes and long black hair, parted severely in the very middle. Her tits were respectable, but nothing like Anna Maria's. The pair, taken singly or together, was certainly a handsome catch for Cinder and his friend. Now, his friend was lifting Anna Maria's sweater up.
As the car swished quietly up the broad street, the lights above zoomed over the girl's form. In the timed flashes he could see the pale skin of her breasts. She wore no brassiere. Now this man was a primary lecher, one that no amount of psychiatry could adjust or modify. He was basically a voyeur, but when he had a chance to touch, he was rough, almost brutal. Going hand-in-hand with this, it must be remembered that he was very handsome. And finally, the man knew every hot button that a girl may possess. He knew how to push them.
"God," he said, "those have to be the nicest breasts I've ever seen in my life."
"You're pretty old," she observed, implying that he might have seen a few breasts in his time. She was right.
His hand moved up and he began to cup them from below, pushing them around. Her nipples were already hard. He knew that the other girl would feel left out and would sulk, so while he fondled Anna Maria's tits he turned to her and engaged her in a conversation. "And you, my dear, are very pretty."
"Thank you, sir," she murmured. She thought that he was a brute. His hand was on her leg once again, trying to get up between her legs. She pressed them together tightly. He wriggled his fingers in and they were cold against her inner thighs. But she had to accept the fact that he was gaining territory- Resigned but not at all happy about it, she opened her legs to allow his hand access to her pussy. It was warmer, but still cold as it went up against the heat right at her pussy. She wriggled as he pushed his finger into the leg-hole of her panties. A breathless flush possessed her. The finger frightened her even though she had been fucked before.
This scene might degenerate, she was thinking. They look like a pair of real weirdos. Anna Maria and I couldn't possibly protect ourselves against them, if they get wild. If they want to fuck, all they have to do is say it. But maybe that would ruin their thing. Certainly it was a wild and rough pick-up. They could at least have asked us. No, instead, they throw us right into the car and speed off toward Tijuana. It looks like bad news! "OUCH! Take it easy, will you?" "I'm sorry. Did I hurt you?" "No! Of course you didn't! That's why I said 'ouch' like that! If you have to stick your thumb in my cunt like that, do it slowly! It hurts!"
And it did hurt. She was dry down there, and so was his thumb. And, being chubby, she was tight. His thumb was large and curved. Only by slumping and spreading her legs wide could she make it easy for his thumb to slide in. After it went in it began to feel good and she groaned. "Yeah, there. Rub me there."
He rubbed her. How easy, he was thinking, to pick up young girls. He judged these two to be perhaps thirteen and fifteen. Certainly suitable because they were very illegal. But still a bit on the old side. Mature. This one, he was thinking, is nice and plump. High, fat boobs. Nice and high on her chest. No brassiere on her either, of course. Such a delicious little thing! See how she spreads her legs apart for me? And it feels good to her! I say, these American young people are really depraved! Sluts! But these are a couple of nice, pleasant, young, fat little sluts! We are really going to do a little togetherness on them tonight!
Nuccie liked the feeling better when he took his thumb out and inserted his middle finger. The palm of his hand was against her mound now, rubbing something that felt very fine when rubbed. And his finger was moving around against her clitoris, working up her juices. Just as she was beginning to think she could make it they pulled up in front of a small, shrub-shrouded house.
Anna Maria was glad. He took his hand away and she pulled her sweater down. She had damned big boobs and knew it. Like most girls with very large breasts, she was self-conscious about them. With part of her mind she knew that tremendous tits were an asset but another part of her mind resented the fact that they were so big. Not only did the boys tease her about them, they hurt when she ran because they would bounce so heavily. Just hanging there they were uncomfortable. But they felt fine when somebody would fondle them nicely, and perhaps kiss the nipples. Suck the nipples.
They were hurried from the car to the dark walk to the house. Nobody was on the street and nobody seemed to be around to see. Both Cinder and his friend noticed this.
This was Cinder's second adventure after his arrival in San Diego. The girl at Balboa Park was his first.
Once inside the house they all visibly relaxed.
"We have some pop, if you want. And some candy and cookies."
The girls stood close together, huddled. Both had their hands clasped right in front of their pussies, and they looked every bit as worried as they were. Anna Maria, the spokesman for the two, said, "What's this all about? From your suit I can see that you're a priest, but you certainly don't act like it!" She was looking directly at Cinder.
He smiled at her. "Come into the other room with me, and you will see what this is all about."
Now Anna Maria and Nuccia both detected the evil, cutting note in his voice. They huddled together even closer, and Nuccia began to weep.
"Hurry," Cinder told his friend, and they whisked the girls into a back bedroom. Since both girls were struggling and crying out, Father Cinder wasted no time. He clapped his hand over Anna Maria's mouth and thrust her face down onto the bed. His friend also threw Nuccia down. "Can you hold both of them?"
His friend said that he could. He sat on Nuccia and held Anna Maria while Father Cinder rummaged in his top drawer. He lit a candle, took out a spoon and some powder, added some liquid to the powder in the spoon, and heated it over the flame. Then he pulled the hot concoction into a large hypodermic syringe.
Anna Maria had turned her head just slightly while struggling. She saw what he was doing and almost wet her pants when she saw the evil leer on Cinder's face when he turned back toward them with the needle. He looked like the mad doctor, and he was coming at them with a needle! God, she thought, realizing what was about to happen, it's narcotics! He's going to shoot us up and then we'll be helpless! Addicted! Heroin! God, here he comes! Maaa! What did we do-?
He went right to her and stuck the needle into her arm. She screamed out, overpowering her captor. But too late. The glass plunger went swiftly down. "Now, then," he said, talking over her cries, "we'll just do a comparison! This girl will be blasted, this one will be straight. We'll see which one enjoys togetherness more, right?"
His friend laughed. He felt the fight draining out of Anna Maria. Nuccia, under his fanny, was sobbing uncontrollably.
The needle had cut into Anna Maria's arm, burning as it penetrated. Then a rush of pain burned into her from the needle prick. Almost instantly things began to take on an unreal aspect. The pain left, and so did most of the terror. But she felt stifled, and breathing became harder the more she thought about it. With part of her mind she realized that she had been shot up now, and that she would soon be completely helpless. This caused a flash of panic. She thought about Nuccia, about her inability to protect her little sister.
And Nuccia was terrified at what she was undergoing. She knew that it was to be a terrible rape, done by a priest and another older man. A rough rape, too, judging from the treatment.
"She's just about there," Cinder said, smiling at Anna Maria.
His friend released the girl, who rolled slowly over onto her back.
Her eyes were glazed and she kept licking her lips. All the fear had left her face, and her expression was one of dazed calmness. Anna Maria was floating on a cloud, painless and numb. She couldn't think about a thing. Her mind couldn't grasp a subject and hold it. She was still experiencing a bit of panic, but it was undefined and very deep inside her now. All she knew was that she had been given some powerful narcotic and that she was going to be raped, maybe even killed. Somehow, the thought didn't have the impact for her that it otherwise might have had.
The full impact was being shouldered by Nuccia. There was no relief for her at all. The man on top of her had stood, and was taking his cock out. She watched. When she saw the revolting size of it she whimpered and a low groan escaped from deep in her throat: "Ooooh, no..." It would be impossible to describe her panic. She was certain that it was going to be the end for her sister and herself. She cried out, begged and pleaded, but it was no use. She turned her head and watched as the priest began to undress. The boy who had screwed her several months before only had a small cock, and he had been gentle. They had been kissing and petting; the session had worked itself into something warmer. It had been good, a thing that both had agreed to do. But this was so different!
Both men were undressing, and Anna Maria appeared to be dead!
"Annie! Can you hear me?" There was a small groan, nothing more. The eyes didn't even blink. Anna Maria heard, but was too far away to answer.
Cinder and his friend were almost undressed, and they looked at the two girls sprawled out on the bed. Their cocks were high and hard. Inside, they were delighted. The younger girl was really frightened; nothing like terror, they agreed, to really make a rape fine!
"Which one should we do first?" the blond man asked.
"Well," Cinder replied, "the young one might be more fun, but I'd like to rip her sister first, and let her watch."
"True, but if we did the young one first - really socked the cock to her- she would know what her sister was going through."
"So, let's do the young one! By the way, what shall we do to them after we're finished?" That was meant for the girls.
Anna Maria heard and didn't really care.
Nuccia sobbed harder. She was on the verge of wetting her pants. She tightened her legs together, determined to fight to the bitter end.
The men saw it and shared a chuckle. She was going to fight it! Excellent. She was playing right into their hands.
Now naked, they went to the side of the bed. Cinder took one of the girl's legs and his friend took the other. They pulled very hard, and the girl cried out in terror.
"God, we've got to gag her or the neighbors will hear!"
"Good idea! Use a stocking. I'll stuff one into her mouth and tie it with another. Should we tie her to the bed in the old spread-eagle position?"
"Hey, yeah!"
"OOOH! NO!"
"OH YES, my little one, oh yes!" he said.
She gained control quickly enough. "No gag! Please! I won't fight, I promise! I won't scream! No gag!"
The men looked at each other and shrugged. "So okay, no gag."
But they were both disappointed, way down deep.
"Up," Cinder barked at her. "Stand up and get over here!"
She obeyed, whimpering. Tears burned on her cheeks and she could hardly see. But she did see that the men were naked and both had tremendous erections. And she saw that they were stroking their cocks with their hands, slowly.
As the short one with dark hair came toward her and reached out she could smell the pungent and acrid odor of sex on his hands. It was a scent she knew, one she hated. She turned her head away. His hand went to her breast and pinched first one and then the other. She cried out involuntarily.
"Ah, such nice, fat little titties! NOW TURN AROUND!" He twisted her around roughly and began to undo the buttons at the back of" her dress. When he had them undone he pushed the open back flaps of her dress forward and over her shoulders. He exchanged glances with his friend, who was stroking his cock slowly as he waited. Then they both looked at the quivering child once again. Father Cinder pushed the dress down, moving to her side so he could glimpse her tits without delay.
They were like a pair of lush melons, slightly flattened. No sag at all. Her nipples were there, all right. They were large and dark, odd for such a young girl. Father Cinder's hand darted to one of the nipples, and he pinched it, twisting it so that the child cried out in anguish. He continued to pinch and twist until she was forced to her knees. Cinder's friend sprang into action, going behind the girl to pull her cotton knit panties down. They went to her knees. The girl continued to cry.
Beside them, Anna Maria was able to hear what was going on, but her field of vision was limited to a small circle, a circle in which everything was painfully clear and defined. Words floated around in her mind like alphabet soup, and when she tried to say something the words spilled out incoherently like some spew of language that didn't exist. Turning to look at the other three was hard for her, but when she did she noted that the people seemed almost transparent.
She saw Cinder, and saw his blood coursing through his body. Some glowing, iridescent liquid - shimmeringly light - seemed to come out of his body, flow out from each individual hair, to form a sort of halo around him. At that instant she decided that he was a holy man. And when she turned her head and swept the view in her small circle of vision she saw that her sister was also shimmering. Many fluids could be seen beneath Nuccia's surface, some black, some purple. Her halo was almost red. She looked at the man behind Nuccia. Another white halo surrounded that man's body. Also holy. His cock was almost neon. White neon.
Her vision and hearing were incredibly clear, but she couldn't equate what she was experiencing to anything concrete. That is, none of it made real sense to her. He saw the man behind her sister kneel and saw his shimmering cock approach Nuccia's ass. She heard Nuccia's whimperings and wondered what it all meant. She saw Father Cinder's cock approach Nuccia's mouth. The shrillness of her sister's cries reached a new pitch, high, thin, and metallic.
Cinder's guest held Nuccia's hips and leaned forward. His legs, were itching and burning with the fires of nasty sex. His cock quivered.
Cinder's hands were full of Nuccia's long, black hair. His cock was about to 'explode. He yanked Nuccia's head back. As the girl's mouth came open for a cry, he jammed his prick right in.
As it went into her mouth, Nuccia almost threw up. That heavy smell of sex had come off all around her hps, and wafted up into her nostrils. And the cock seemed to be alive in her mouth. She tried to pull away but his hands were ripping her hair out by the roots. And, just as she did pull back, she felt the other man's hot cock begin to press against her bottom. But it was at the wrong place! She wriggled and tried to shake her tail away.
His fingernails dug painfully into her hips and his hands held her firmly in place.
The huge burning cock pressed relentlessly against her tiny asshole and she tried to shut it, pressing tightly in. The cock continued to press and it hurt until she thought that she would faint. And the other huge cock in her mouth was gagging her. She was having trouble breathing. She had been leaning on her hands but now beat them wildly against Cinder. She tried to scratch him. Score!
She drew blood and his blood-filled cock rammed brutally against the back of her small mouth, plundering her tonsils and making her retch. And then she felt an intense pain shoot through her whole body, making her knees weak and her skin cold. Violent shakes made her unsteady and from deep in her throat she groaned in agony. The enormous cock behind her had gone in, all the way, right up to the dead-end of her little-girl rectum.
Monstrous electric pains shot out in all directions from her asshole. The membranes seemed to be stretching and then finally ripping. The pain, for her, was almost unbearable. She heard them laugh.
"How's that slick asshole?" Cinder asked, chuckling.
His friend had his prick firmly lodged into the tight canal. "Fine! She has a really tight bung for a kid, this one. We'll have to ream it out a bit for her." And then he began to saw in and out, relishing the dry tightness of her rectal ridges and asshole as his cock went in and out. That she was quivering so made it even better.
A true prick, Cinder released one handful of hair and pinched Nuccia's nose. This cut her air off. He felt her mouth begin to work as she tried to breathe through it while it was full of his cock. He led her face down a trifle and found her throat straightening out. When it was just right he jammed ruthlessly forward. A rewarding crunch was felt against his cock and she slackened after lurching. He thoroughly enjoyed the look in her eyes. It was an expression of stark horror and disbelief.
Nuccia felt something give in her throat and knew instantly that it was the end for her. Not only a rape, she saw that it was to be real harm, possibly murder. Even young children can experience the panic of realizing that they are looking straight at death. She felt this, and lapsed into a blissful state of hopelessness. The pain and horror of what was happening to her were too much for her to accept and part of her switched off.
As she did switch off into lassitude, the tension left her young, ravaged body.
Both of the anti-smut crusaders were, enjoying themselves immensely.
Lying beside them and watching with detachment, Anna Maria noticed a change in Nuccia's hues. Words continued to tumble about crazily in her mind, incoherent and bizarre. She sensed rather than saw that Nuccia had given up. The atmosphere seemed to lose a lot of its electric tension.
A note of joviality was introduced by Cinder's friend. "This one can really pull a train!"
"A team cream!"
"Yeah! A bunch punch!"
They went on like that, with their high-school quips, while sending their rods into the almost unconscious girl.
Cinder's friend was plunging all the way into her asshole, watching his slime-coated cock as it was sliding easier and easier. The asshole had lost a good bit of its tightness but the walls of her rectum were still reacting.
Cinder had his cock all the way down the girl's throat. He released her hair and nose and placed her hands, now pliable, on the bed so that she was supported by them and his prick. His nuts were beginning to pump. He shot his hands down under her shoulders and grasped her smooth-mounding tits. Then he began to buck into her, up and down, keeping his cock lodged in her throat.
"Are you about to shoot off?" the friend asked.
"Yea. It's coming now!"
"Me too!" He grasped her cunt with his whole hand, reaching for it from around the side of her hips. His middle finger dug savagely into her little slit and he scraped as he shot it all the way up. He was still flicking his hips forward and watching his brown-streaked prick go in and out between those white globes of her immature ass. His climax was building rapidly and he began to slam into her with a fury that he couldn't control.
They made it together. Nuccia almost choked on the charge of semen that clogged her throat like fish-flavored phlegm. She retched and tried, very feebly, to pull away. She was held tight. The pain in her rectum had become a dull throbbing, the throbs timed to coincide with the thrusts of the cock pummeling her ass. Then she felt the wet splash of his ejaculation high up in her stomach. With a sense of profound hopelessness she thought: what the hell, it's over. But it wasn't. Not at all. "Switch!" Cinder shouted, and the two men immediately pulled out, acting as precisely as a team of wrestlers. They both made their rapid moves and before Nuccia knew what was happening, she felt another cock plunge into her ass and one into her mouth, all the way into her throat. It was coated with a thickly- unpleasant substance she knew to be a combination of come and shit, and her stomach reversed itself suddenly. But the prick was lodged in her throat and as she heaved, the vomit was stopped. She had to swallow over and over again, and her saliva flowed like some dam spillway. All this while she was being butted from behind by the holy cock of Father Cinder.
She finally regained control and found that she could take the cock all the way in without throwing up again. The smell of his crotch was still offensive, but she knew that she had to live with it. In fact, the realization that she just might survive the gang bang was dawning on her. The pain in her ass was abating. She felt the priest's hand go down to her pussy and was glad just a little bit. At least, if he did it right, she might have some enjoyment.
But Father Cinder wasn't interested in her pleasure. He went onto her cunt and rubbed the slit mercilessly with his rough fingers. He felt that he was making her wet and smiled over her shaking back at his friend, who was grunting, mouth-fucking her, and grasping her tits. His eyes were crossed. He had one of his feet on Anna Maria's breasts and was rubbing her with it.
Anna Maria watched the scene without interest or curiosity. She was deep into her own mind and her body was anesthetized. None of what she saw, heard, smelled, or felt made any difference to her at all. It was as though she were deep into a dream, whirling and lost. Her ability to move, speak, or even care was completely gone. She lay there, almost as if dead.
Cinder and his friend were making it again, and Nuccia was more conscious about it than before. She struggled against the invasion of her mouth by the man's semen, but she knew, when his cock tip began to quiver deep in her throat, that she was about to have another charge.
The rocking motions of the two men sodomizing her were perfectly timed, coordinated to accordion her. They both bucked at the same time, brutally, intent on degrading the small child as much and as viciously as possible.
Nuccia braced herself for the twin explosions of come and she felt every spurt as the men did it into her. She was hoping then that it was finally over. Every ounce of strength had been drained out of her body and when the men released her she slumped forward, whimpering, sobbing, and gasping for breath.
"Now," Cinder said, "let's see what we can do with this other one for a while." He bent, still breathing hard, and undressed Anna Maria, who lay there like a corpse.
The two men could only achieve erection by playing with her for a while, so they took lighted cigarettes and dotted her arms, legs, and breasts with the red embered ends. Little red spots welled up and then turned almost purple. They became like purple peas on her skin. They were disappointed to notice that she didn't care. Looking for the ultimate charge, Cinder took his lit cigarette and looked at the white globes of Nuccia's ass. The girl was quiet. With his fingers he spread the cheeks of her ass and then stuck the cigarette right down against the tight little brown knot.
Nuccia screamed and leaped up, horrified.
The smell of burning flesh filled the air. She tore at her fanny, trying to get the burning butt out.
The men laughed insanely, heartily, laughed until tears streamed down their faces.
Anna Maria was seeing everything but it didn't click with her. She saw the bumps on her arms and breasts but they didn't hurt.
When Cinder's cock finally got good and hard he lifted himself over Anna Maria's calm face. Then he pressed his cock against her mouth, shooting it in between her teeth. Her slack jaws opened to accept the prick and her throat offered no resistance.
Beside them, his friend was slapping the hysterical Nuccia around. With each slap his cock would jump up. He threw her to her back on the bed and then sat, with all his weight, on her pubic mound. After letting a loud, wet fart against her he began to slap her small tits back and forth. A new light entered his cold eyes, a light that must have been seen often in Dachau or Buchenwald. His hand went back and forth. The fingers slapped the firm but soft mound first one way and then the other. He smiled down at the look of utter shock on her face. Dark-haired little bitch, he was thinking, I'll slap your fucking tits right off your wop dago body! SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
She was thinking, in her panic: Oh, God! Why are you doing this to me? What have I done to you? Why do you want to hurt me so badly! I wanted to grow up, to be a wife, a mother - I wanted to have children and a home! Why are you taking all this away from me? Why? And she would wince at the pain inflicted by each slap. Pretty soon there was no more pain.
And pretty soon the men dropped the two stunned girls off a half block from the corner of Date and India. Nice of them.
Chapter V
Father Cinder worked with a fury in his public life. A true paragon of virtue and pillar of society, he was on constant call from religious and civic groups. These groups knew that the man was, good to the core, and people hung on his words in reverence.
At night he was busy, researching pornography. The more he collected the more he liked it. His collection was very personalized, including color photographs of him in the act of various perversions with children.
His narcotics supply grew. It included marijuana, opium, LSD, peyote, heroin, cocaine, Seconal, nembutal, desoxyn, amyl nitrate, STP, THC, and psilocybin. He had more than that and smiled to think that his collection included a pill or herb for every purpose. He could stone a child out like nothing, fuck the child silly, and then drop the mindless little beggar off in some remote part of town, never to hear or even think about them again.
Three years went by like that, and then Father Cinder was given a very choice plum. Two magazines asked him to become their editor. He left San Diego with a heavy heart and took the long drive east.
Enroute he managed three children in four days. One was a boy of twelve who was quite a scrapper. Father Cinder left the boy on a lonely stretch of road in Yukon, Oklahoma. The boy had a very strange look in his eyes and was drooling dumbly after the tryst.
His new job afforded him great freedom, and the publishers and bishop agreed that it would be good work for him if he were to start out a youth center or settlement house. Accordingly his duties were cut and delegated to his junior editors and the readers.
He knew what he wanted. And what he didn't want. He didn't want some snoopy nuns farting around in his thing, so he suggested that all the help in running the settlement house be supplied by the kids themselves. And there were plenty of kids to help.
He spent a year organizing the settlement house and it became popular with the kids and also with the Church. That is, the Church was generous with Father Cinder.
He used the money wisely, buying even more elaborate photographic equipment and respectable quantities of narcotics. He used no narcotics himself, being a firm believer that they would cause his moral fiber to disintegrate. Instead he used them on the children on his own personal flock. Tasty drinks of fruit juices would be prepared, liberally laced with THC or even acid on occasion. He had to make certain judgments about what kind of drug to use. On one girl, heroin was the only answer. He had to keep her until she had a good habit, and then control her by advancing or denying more horse. One day she didn't show up for her fix and fuck. He never heard what happened to her, but some of the children said that she hitched to Cleveland.
Every week his reputation as a crime fighter grew. He became nationally famous in some circles and his list of close friends grew. Many politicians would stop by for some drugs and a fuck with one of his children. It was all a carefully kept secret. No dunce, Father Cinder played both sides of the political fence. He knew that a change in administration might bring about some snoopy investigators. But his children were faithful. They wouldn't tell. And if they might, so what? Who on earth would ever take the word of a child over that of a
Catholic priest, an intrepid enemy of smut?
Father Cinder had calmed down quite a bit by the time he had Becky. He didn't practice masochism much any more since he knew that he would be around that area for a while. He could see little point in harming those children he wished to use over and over again. And he did reuse them.
Several of the children did talk about him, but nobody quite believed the fanciful things that they said. Childish prattle!
But Cinder was becoming jaded. Like a person who takes heavier doses of hard narcotics to achieve the same thrill, Father Cinder had to graduate to bigger and better things. Mere child-fucking was losing its flavor for him. He needed something new.
So it was that he decided to buy himself a dog.
He decided this the morning after his defeat of Dr. Willoughby at the Lakeside Settlement House.
Now Father Cinder was a sound sleeper. His conscience didn't bother him at all since he had removed it while still in the seminary. It was replaced by a little child-information center, his own CIC. At night, after brushing his teeth, combing his hair, and saying his prayers, he would stretch out in bed, fold his fingers behind his head, and lie there in the dark, imagining all sorts of naked boys and girls in a variety of obscene positions. He would be fucking them with his fingers and toes, shitting on them and pissing on them.
He would have groups of them smear the shit all over their faces playfully.
One of his favorite fantasies was about the degradation of a certain Becky Winston. After the lecture he had thought about the ultimate degradation. First shoot into her face, then fuck her asshole. Then cut off her fingers, while she's straight and not on dope. Then pierce her stomach and fuck her right in the navel. All this time she should be awake, screaming, writhing in pain.
Fuck her stomach, and then bite off the nipples on her tits. Eat them. And then bite the tits themselves off. Morphine if too much pain for her. Then go down and bite her thighs, at that smooth and soft part inside. More morphine, so she's awake and can stand it. Also must see it. Experience the end. Eat her, but really! Such a pretty girl to eat! Bite her lips right off. And her ears. Shoot come all over on her. Kick her, beat her, Finally, to end it, crush her skull in a large vise.
After he would fuck this around in his mind for ten minutes his cock would always be good and hard, ready to burst. He would begin to stroke his prick meditatively, thinking about how wonderful it would be to kill some child like that. Becky Winston was the girl he wanted to kill and eat. His come would be trapped in his hand, and he would reach over to the night table and take a kleenex from the box beside the Bible. Happy and exhausted, he would then fall asleep, to dream of children fucking and children sucking. And above them he would stand, lightning and thunder crashing from his hands onto the heads of panderers and purveyors of filth. For him, sleeping was almost as good as living.
His night had been exactly as described. He awoke with a sense of malaise, though. He was listless and bored. Trudging into the kitchen for some coffee, he suddenly thought that he was lonely. Then he thought about affection. He wanted some affection in his life. But there was no woman on earth that he would marry or even have in the house. A dog had barked somewhere outside, and the solution to his festering problem came to him as quickly as that. A dog! Sure, I'll get myself a dog!
He remembered talk about some Great Danes owned by the parents of some of the children who came to the settlement house. Now, he said to himself, that's a dog! Gentle, intelligent, affectionate, and big! Imagine a pair of them. A male and a female. He recalled the time he jacked the neighbor's Cocker Spaniel off - the dog followed him around for months after that, his pink tongue hanging out. The only happy-looking cocker Cinder had ever seen.
He also wondered if a female Great Dane would be a good fuck. Those long tongues! Christ, he said to himself as his ideas about dogs began to resolve themselves, imagine those long, raspy tongues licking the ass crack! I wonder if one of them could learn to suck cock without biting! And those long fucking toenails! I wonder how it would be to fuck the female while being fucked by the male! Have to get those dogs! Just have to get them and have one of the boys try it. Man, oh, man, what pictures that would make! And get Becky to suck the male off! Sure as shit, I'll do it, whoopee!
His elation was great as he dressed and drove quickly to the large house where the dogs lived. He was hoping that they would be free. The woman dashed his hopes. "Couldn't possibly get rid of Don and Sabrina," she told him.
"I'll give them a good home." He cast an uneasy glance at the two huge black mutts. They were strangely silent and regarded him without blinking. As though he were to be lunch.
"That's not the point. We paid five hundred dollars for them."
"I'll give you five hundred, then."
"SOLD!" she said. They had been thinking about getting rid of them anyway, because Don's cock was always out and embarrassed their female guests. And Sabrina's cunt stank, even though they had the vet come every week to stick Norforms up it.
"You deliver them," he said, "and I'll have the cash for you."
Two hours later he was five hundred dollars lighter but he had two huge mutts clicking around the house. Their toenails were indeed large. Nothing like their teeth, however.
Father Cinder had to make friends with the dogs so he gave them each a huge sirloin.
They were quick to notice who opened the refrigerator door in that house, and after they had inhaled the giant steaks they came to him and both leaned against him, showing their affection and gratitude. He patted them and they looked up with soft eyes.
His hand moved around Don's side and tentatively felt the soft, almost-hairless skin beside his genitals. The dog made no move indicating that he didn't like it. Father Cinder became bold and went right to the soft, hair-covered sheath holding the dog's cock. Still the dog stood there, leaning, panting, and looking up with a very satisfied expression on his face. Cinder began to fondle the dog there and his fingers detected a growing hardness. The cock was responding.
He began to scratch the female's back as he fondled Don to erection. His hand moved back toward Sabrina's tail, tentatively. Sabrina panted and her tongue came out. She didn't appear to mind the attention at all.
His hand went under the tail, avoided the sensitive asshole, and rested for a moment against the hotness of her cunt. Then, as his fingers began to gently pinch and masturbate Don's wet and red cock, he began to press his finger into Sabrina's cunt. She moved back and her panting became hurried and shallow. The two dogs were excited, all right. Cinder was excited too. His hand was moving faster and faster on Don's cock and his other hand was massaging Sabrina's cunt. He felt it get wet and his finger began to fool around there. Then he pushed it gently in. Sabrina's tail was wagging happily. Her cunt wasn't bad at all, in Cinder's opinion. At least it was hot, wetj and tight.
He was becoming very excited, finger-fucking Sabrina and jacking Don off when there was a small rap at the door. He looked up and realized that he was panting himself, just like the dogs. He pulled his finger out of the bitch's cunt and left Don to cool off. The rap came again and he muttered, furious at the intrusion. When he saw who it was he was delighted beyond words. Dutiful Becky, looking very young and charming indeed.
"Good afternoon, Father," she said quietly. "Well, hello there, Becky! Can you stay for a while?"
"Yes, Father." She looked down at her hands. A strange feeling had taken over in her when she saw him. Arousal. But also sinfulness.
"By all means, do come in. How did you feel last night - er - after leaving me?" He handed her into his house and closed the door.
"All right, I guess."
"What's this?" and he put his finger under her chin and lifted her face toward his, "are we all unhappy today?"
"Oh, I don't know, Father. It's just:.. that - well - I've been thinking, is all."
"Thinking? About what? You can tell me!"
"Well, nothing, really. Just that I feel bad about what we did yesterday ..."
"Bad? Nonsense, child! Feel good! I purified you!" He put his arm around her and drew her to him. His hand circled around her side and cupped her breast. "I have a surprise for you, my child."
"A surprise? What?"
"Do you like dogs?"
Her eyes widened. "Gosh, no! I hate dogs! I'm afraid of them!"
"Afraid? Of dogs? Nonsense! How's about two nice, big gentle dogs? Great Danes."
She was pulverized. "Great Danes? Two?" She blinked and was on the verge of running out of there.
"Sure. Now no need to be afraid, Becky. Come on and let me introduce you to Don and Sabrina. They'll just love you!"
"No, Father. Please! No dogs!" She tried to pull away.
His voice took on a razor's edge. "I said come along."
She whimpered. "All right." She dragged her feet and thought about being attacked and bitten by the dogs.
When she saw them her breath caught in her throat. They were almost as big as horses, she thought. And both had really vicious looking teeth. Their eyes lit up when they saw her and their ears pricked up. She grasped Father Cinder's arm to her.
"Relax, Becky!" he urged her, "they won't hurt you. In fact, I want you to be friends with them."
"Friends? I... don't think... that I could. Won't they bite?"
"Not if you play with them. Why don't you go over and play with them?"
"Play? B-b-but h-h-how?" She was terrified.
"No need to stutter, Becky. They're perfectly friendly. Now I want you to go over and play with Don. He's the boy dog, the one with the red cock sticking out. Go over and take that red cock into your hand, Becky, and pump it back and forth."
"He won't mind?"
"Mind? Don? Why, he'd just love it! You'll see! You do that, and I'll play with Sabrina. Now is that a good deal?"
She mumbled that it was, feeling that it was - as the kids in the playground would say - a rip-off. A bad deal. But she edged toward the panting dog.
He growled at her and she jumped back.
Cinder went to the dog and took the cock, gave it a couple of squeezes, and then pulled Becky over. "Now, then; he's all set."
Becky was glad to see that the dog didn't mind about her once she took his prick into her hand. She had never felt such an odd prick in her life. Since she had only touched Father Cinder's, she didn't have too much to compare Don's prick with. But it was strange to her. She liked to see the dog's tail wag. She had been told that dogs don't bite when they wag their tails. She went faster and faster, and was rewarded by Don, who leaned against her, almost bowling her over. He was panting and his cock was pointed and very hot.
She watched Father Cinder as the priest went to the female Great Dane and calmly stuck his finger into her cunt. He began to slide his finger in and out, faster and faster, and the dog appeared to like it very much. She saw the bulge in Cinder's pants where his cock was.
Cinder was watching Becky and thinking about Don fucking her. He had never actually seen a Great Dane fuck a little girl before and thought that it was as good a time as any for the experience. For his part, he intended to try Sabrina. His cock was almost bursting and her cunt, he could see, was ready. She had some good muscle control right at her cunt hps and was closing her hole on his finger as he would pull it out. Trying to milk his finger.
"Becky, I want you to take your panties off, child."
She frowned at him but obeyed immediately, without a word.
"That's the girl. Now then, down onto your hands and knees."
Once again she obeyed, but was very obviously upset.
Father Cinder led Don's nose along with the cunt smell on his finger. He wiped Sabrina's juices around on Becky's little cunt.
Don sniffed and then shot a broad lap right up her crack with his long, raspy tongue.
Becky, afraid that she was going to be eaten, cried out.
Father Cinder laughed at her childishness. The fear of being eaten by the dog choked her and she had to force herself to stay in one place. But he didn't eat her. He ate her out. His tongue was driving her almost crazy before long. It was one of the strangest sensations that Becky had ever felt. Then, quite unexpectedly, she felt sharp claws dig into her back. Hot breath smelling of sirloin steak hissed into her ear. Panic shot through her as she thought once again that it was the end. But once again she was surprised; the dog didn't eat her, he fucked her! He shot his hot cock right up into her cunt and began to pump like a demon! The dog really moved, like a machine. Fast!
She felt something really weird, besides the sensation of being fucked doggie-fashion by a dog which weighed almost twice as much as she. His cock seemed to be growing a knot of some sort. Right in the center of the long, slick shaft. It was like a bulge in the middle of the shaft, and as the dog fucked harder, the knot grew. Pretty soon Becky was frightened that the cock was going to swell up with that knot so large that he would stick inside her.
Father Cinder rubbed his hands in appreciation of the scene. He smiled and nodded, happy that yet another of his plans had worked out so admirably. He cast a glance at Sabrina, who was looking at him. Her tail was wagging. Cinder looked back at the spectacle of the young girl being screwed by the gigantic Great Dane and his cock became very hard and very itchy for some fucking of its own. Sabrina was ready.
Father Cinder walked over to Sabrina. Her cunt was just the right height but her tail was in the way. He took the tail, held it aside, and pressed the knob of his cock against her wet cunt. She was tight, but he was used to tight cunts. His only regret at the moment was that her tits weren't very big. But she had quite a few to choose from. Since he couldn't reach them anyway, he just grabbed her hips and pressed forward until his cock's knob popped into the strange cunt. Liquid fire surrounded the shaft and head as he plunged in and he wondered if she had clap or syphilis. Father Cinder wasn't an authority on animal diseases. But he was rapidly becoming an authority on dogs. The thrill of actually fucking a monster Great Dane right beside another huge Great Dane who was fucking the living daylights out of a twelve-year-old girl was a bit rare for him.
Not one to think too much about tomorrow or yesterday, the man enjoyed the sensation.
Becky had finally settled down, and was resting on the floor, propped on her elbows. She hadn't much liked Don's approach, but his cock was large, hard, and fast. Further, that knot in the middle of his shaft was banging against her clitoris. Each new thump sent a wave of excitement through her. The annoying part of it all was his claws, but she moved each of his feet off her back. His front-claws were particularly irritating, digging into her side as they did. Now he had his forelegs astride her and on the floor where they belonged. There was nothing now but that wonderfully fast cock and the sight of Father Cinder fucking the dog. She re-evaluated her position on dogs. In the case of Father Cinder, she was certainly prepared to agree that dogs are man's best friend.
He saw her watching him. "How's it going?" he asked.
It took her a moment to answer. First she laughed and then she tried to talk. The dog's cock was jamming right up into her stomach. Finally she blurted: "WOW!"
"Nice?" Cinder was fucking Sabrina very leisurely.
"Uh! Uh, uh, uh ... really!" she said.
He could see that she was being fucked royally and liked it. It put him off slightly. He was hoping that she would be terrified. Scream, maybe. Plead. But no. She was there on the floor, her ass right up there. The dog was covering her completely, going at it a mile a minute. And the dog was enjoying himself. But then, Cinder said to himself, what Great Dane wouldn't like to ball a smooth young thing like Becky?
Sabrina was evidently unhappy about his slowness, and grumbled.
Cinder hurried it up and the dog began to pant.
Becky was having a series of minor orgasms, all building to one terrific tremor. She felt Don's increased tempo and knew that he was about to fill her pussy with his come. She wondered if it was anything like human come. If it smelled the same or even tasted the same. The knot, she judged, was about the size of a tennis ball now, and as it rammed in and out of her cunt she almost fainted. As it was she gasped at the unreal sensation. Her orgasm began to speed upward and she cried out. Don hurried. He, too, was making it. He hadn't fucked a girl for months and the feeling of a nice, human child cunt was overpowering him.
There were grunts and cries coming from the couple. Finally both were lost and incoherent. Becky screamed out in agonized delight and then tried to fall forward. Don was no longer ramming; he was bucking to get tighter and tighter against her, and finally he lost his balance, his hind legs spread out and apart, and he fell upon her, grunting like an animal.
When he was through he tried to pull out but he was stuck fast.
Becky tried to help, by relaxing her cunt muscles. "Father," she cried, "I'm stuck on him!"
Cinder was just getting it on really well with Sabrina and he didn't even hear her. He bucked forward and shot a good load into the humping dog's rippling pussy. Then and only then did he hear her cries. "Stuck?" He pulled out and Sabrina trotted to the corner and licked her twat. "Stuck fast!"
"Just a minute." Cinder ran into the bathroom and came back into the room with a pail. He drenched them with cold water and Don jumped back at the shocking shower. The long slick cock popped out with an audible noise. Becky sputtered and glowered at the priest.
"Now that wasn't necessary!" she scolded.
"You're not stuck now, are you?"
"But you've soaked my dress!"
"So put it in the dryer!"
"Ill have to!" She sat in the puddle in the middle of the floor.
Cinder saw that he had thrown water on his floor as well and silently cursed his impetuousness. But then he saw Becky stand and slip out of the dress. A trail of dog come was dripping slowly down her legs. His cock quivered. "Take a bath too, will you?"
"Sure. Whew! That dog is something!" she said.
"They both are! You like 'em?"
"I like Don. I don't know for sure about that one over there licking herself like that."
"You ever try to lick yourself like that?" he asked.
"Of course not!"
"Why of course not?"
"Well, who would?"
"Sabrina."
"But she's a dog!"
"Of course she's a dog!"
"I'm going to take that bath." She threw her dress to him and stomped out of the room, leaving a path of wet footprints.
Chapter VI
Becky was only twelve, but the experiences of her last two days had matured her a good deal. They also confused her. She had a woman's problems with a child's experience. She was able to react as a woman to sexual stimulation and the fact didn't bother her but it did make her wonder about things.
Now, sitting in the bath tub, she pondered Father Cinder. He hadn't said that there was to be anything holy about making it with the dogs. There were no false pretenses there. She appreciated that but she resented what she assumed was a con the previous day. And yet, she didn't want to dislike Father Cinder because of it. Her orgasms had been real and satisfying. She could recall those wonderful sensations easily, and thanked him for them even though her pussy had hurt terribly. Yet, the pain had passed, for the most part, and she was left not only with pleasant memories but with eager anticipation. She was beginning to realize that he was a sex fiend after all, and wondered just how Christian he was behind his stern facade and black suit.
It didn't occur to Becky to try to test him; his religion or lack of it was strictly his affair, she reasoned. His sexual appetites, as far as they concerned her, were her business. When she thought about the good fuck supplied by the dog she blushed. But she had seen him fuck the other dog, and shrugged. After all, she said to herself, if he screws a dog, I guess I shouldn't be too worried about it. Bestiality, they call it.
Well, so much for bestiality. I can see that I'll have plenty of good times around him. My God, what a different thing - he's old enough to be my - well - my grandfather! And there's something so exciting about him. He's not particularly good looking. But he's different. I had to come here today. Something pulled me. And something keeps me from telling mom. I wonder if Denise feels this same way? I don't dare ask her, that's for sure. Just have to keep my mouth shut!
What I'm going to do is this: I'm going to help Father Cinder around the house, and get all the fucking I can! Mom will let me help here all summer, and after school. He might fuck me every day, and he might give me some money once in a while. But gosh, is all fucking so good? I hate to think about it, but maybe I'll just go out and pick up some horny old guy. Have to ask Father Cinder if old men like to screw little girls. An hour later she did.
"Is the Pope a Catholic?" he asked in reply.
"They do like to fuck little girls then?"
"Well, most of them would like to. But they're afraid of getting caught and thrown in jail. Bad rap, dinging children."
"Aren't you worried about being caught?"
"Me? Why should I be?"
"You fuck children, and all the time."
"Oh, no! Me? Don't even think such a thing."
That confused her until she saw him wink. "Oh! Oh, that's right. You? Of course not!" She smiled and winked back. Then she asked him again: "But really, why aren't you afraid?"
"Goddamnit, I said I don't fuck children!"
"Okay then. But about older men. How would I go about - ummm - maybe picking one up?"
"For to fuck?"
"Yeah. For money."
"You mean like a whore?"
"Well, I like fucking. You taught me that. But I need some money. I was figuring, if I could enjoy myself and get paid ..."
"Ohmigawd! You're only twelve!" "You knew that yesterday." "Don't be flippant with me, young lady!" he said.
"Well, gosh, I can't see what the age makes - I mean -"
"Twelve is simply too young for you to be a hooker."
"If I help you around here and we fuck a lot, will you give me some money? Not much."
"Maybe. But not much."
"You've got lots of money."
"That's because I don't throw it away on twelve-year-olds."
"Would it be throwing it away? On me?" she asked.
"Mmm, maybe not. We'll see. What can you do?"
"Wash your clothes. Maybe cook. Walk the dogs. Dust the place. Fuck. Suck. Let you eat me. Answer the phone."
He was thinking hard about it. "How are you with a camera?"
"Not very good, I'm afraid."
"Never mind. You can learn. Can I trust you ... implicitly?"
"What does that mean?"
"It means, can I trust you completely," he said.
"To do what?"
"To not say anything about whatever we do. And what you see me do and help me do?"
"I won't say anything. Why should I?" she asked.
"Right. Why should you? Okay. Ill give you ten dollars a week. Okay?" "Not very good." "Take it or leave it."
"Awww, I'll take it, I guess. When do I start?"
"You start - well, right now." He glanced at her and smiled. She was wrapped in a towel and he could see her little pussy. He knew that she was still thinking about being a prostitute but he didn't try to dissuade her. She would do what she wanted to do.
"What do I do?"
"Drop the towel and let me look at you," he said.
She did and he looked. Her body was already familiar to him. She was his favorite child of all. Many, over the years. She was very pretty, very young, and had been very innocent. A bright girl, she was quick on the uptake. And also a damned hot screw. He liked that in a twelve-year-old assistant.
"Come over here, please. I would like to have you lick my cock for a while."
She left the towel in her chair and walked over, trying to stick her flat little breasts out farther so that her tits would appear to be larger. She blushed as she saw him shake his head sadly.
"No, no, Becky! A lungful of air does not big tits make! Now stop that strutting, be a little girl, and come over here and suck my cock, will you?"
She sulked for a second and then went and knelt at his feet. Her hands went to his thighs and she brought her face into his lap. His fly was open so all she had to do was free his limp prick from the folds of his boxer shorts. It came out and she smelled it. "WHEW! Pussy juice from a dog!"
"It won't kill you," he said, smiling crookedly.
She threw him a troubled glance, gulped, and took the cock to her mouth. She brushed her lips against it and then began to lick. She felt it begin to harden. Her hands went into his fly so she could fondle his balls. While the cock was soft she took the whole thing into her mouth. She pumped his nuts and felt the cock swell in her mouth. Soon she had to let it out because it was straightening where she had bent it. The flavor was strong and slightly metallic, but not unbearable. Not even unpleasant. She sucked and as his cock reached its full size she went down on it as far as she could and then tightened her jaws slightly and came up, scraping the shaft with her teeth and lips and tongue. She moved closer as she felt his hand begin to fondle her young body.
Becky's new job began like that, and she had no gripes for two years.
Over the years she familiarized herself with almost every detail of Cinder's work and by the time she was fourteen she was both fast and intelligent. But she was also confused.
During her familiarization she had found his stash, his cache of drugs. After a bit of unadvertised experimentation with some of them she was left almost helpless for four hours. Father Cinder found her completely wasted, fed her some fresh oranges and a lot of food, and had a serious talk with her about drugs. Besides being an expert on pornography, he was also an expert on drug abuse.
"What did you take, Becky?"
"I tried one of those red capsules. And some of that brown, clay-like stuff, and some of the white powder you keep in the square brown bottle."
"Hum! Seconal, opium, and coke. And how are you feeling?"
"Tired."
"Is that all?"
"I don't know. I'm too tired to tell," she said.
"You took just one redbird?" "Redbird?"
"That red cap, Seconal."
"Yeah. Just one. What is it?"
"It's a downer. People use them to sleep, usually. The other stuff makes you high. Opium's pretty good, isn't it?"
"I can't say. Too drowsy."
"Well, you just put some under your tongue and drink a bit of tea. It gets you there, all right."
"Is it addictive?"
"Isn't everything?"
She watched as he walked out of the room and came back with an oatmeal box which she recognized as part of his collection. She had seen dried plants in it. Now she bent forward and watched as he knelt before her and took the lid off the box.
"Now this is weed," he said to her. "Marijuana. The killer weed, as they call it, with its roots in hell. One toke and you're a slave for life."
"Toke?" she asked, taking one of the shriveled green plant parts from him to examine.
"Hit, inhale. You know, one smoke," he said.
"Toke. Mmmm, I prefer hit."
"So do I. Care to try some?"
"No. I'm too wasted for weed just now. Later, maybe."
"It does wonderful things. Weed is- well, weed is a better way to get into a girl than astrology these days. All you have to do is give her one blast and she's gone. Her will power is completely destroyed. That's why the government is so eager to put the perverted, drug-crazed hippies into the Federal penitentiaries; those filthy animals sit around and blow dope and then fuck themselves silly."
"Sounds like fun!"
"It is! That's why I asked if you wanted some."
"Why knock the freaks for turning on and then screwing if you think that it's fun?"
This caused him to frown at her as though he were greatly annoyed. "Because / am no hippie and I have no intention of ever becoming one of those dirty animals!"
"Do you know any?"
"Of course not! I wouldn't lower myself," he said.
"You know, Father?" "What?"
"Sometimes - you're an incredible prick!" she said.
"Why, yes. I am at that, aren't I," Father said.
"Yes, you are. Why is that?"
"Well, I'm not a prick, actually. Let me explain something to you, Becky. Something that might prove valuable to you some time.
"We have a ruling power in this country called the Establishment. The Establishment demands certain things. Now I'm not one to fight establishments because from what I read prisons are dull. Now then, I freely admit seeming to be a hypocrite. But why do I choose this? Listen closely: People always remember what you say but they tend to forget what you do. So, if you say something often enough, despite what you do - people will tend to remember the words you use. The thoughts behind them. There's a good history of verbal chicanery in the United States, and people readily gobble up bullshit, see?"
"So?"
"So I dig little children. I realize it. This, what I have, is no passing fancy. It's deep inside me. If the Establishment knew that I liked children - perhaps a bit more than Jesus -' why I'd be destroyed! They would take me and destroy me!"
"And would they be justified?" she asked.
He paused and frowned pensively. "I really don't know. But I know that I wouldn't like it at all. Besides, I really doubt that society has a right to destroy human life. This morality issue we face is very primitive and very savage. Part of the shit is from the Pauline Doctrine, strengthened by the Puritans. Not at all good to live with. But anyway, look at Father Jim Grappi over in Milwaukee. That dunce is always being hassled by the police."
"But he's a good man ..." she said.
"GOOD - BAD! What are you talking about, child? Who really gives a damn, after all, if he's a good man? He's working for all those people - open housing. But let him get cornered and face a prison sentence and they'll abandon him like rats split from a sinking ship! Shit! He can play the Establishment game and drive a Caddie, eat steak, and do more good for open housing by being a hypocritical sneak! And I'm the one to know. Without exception, every politician I know is a hypocritical sneak, and look at how they live!"
"I've seen your friends from Washington," she said wryly.
"Well, I'm in that league. I deal for quite a few of them; they're all alcoholic speed-freaks, you know ..."
"The people who run our country?" she asked, amazed.
"Sure! They booze all night and then get up on speed so they can make international policy!"
"That's awful!"
"There you go again!" he snapped, irritated. "More value judgments! And you're only fourteen! Who are you to say that it's terrible that our legislators are drunken and burned out? Maybe it's a good thing!"
"But how could it be?"
"Don't ask me. I don't make value judgments," he said.
"Oh, shit, Father. You do all day, every day!"
"But only for the magazines and dimwits that come to my talks!"
"But don't you want to educate them?" she asked.
"Educate ... them? My God, what an awful thought!"
"What's so wrong with it?"
"What's right with it? They don't want to be educated and I don't want to spend the remainder of my days followed by the FBI or making twine in some prison. No. The best thing to do is wear the hair short, have horn-rimmed glasses like these, drive a Cad and wear a suit, preferably black. Appearances, my dear, appearances."
"And then you don't really detest hippies?" she asked.
"To hell with hippies! They're losers! Stupid, empty-headed losers!"
"All of them?"
"All long hairs. They're fighting a system blindly, without either coordination or plan. They'll be destroyed. Beaten down."
"So they should get haircuts?" she said.
"And get rid of those wire-rimmed glasses. Wear suits. Be sneaky. Just lose themselves in the Establishment crowd, and erode the system from within. Maybe at the polls."
"It sounds like you're concerned," she said.
"Oh," and he yawned, "I don't know. Don't ask. Let's go into the bathroom, smoke some shit, and then fuck."
"That might be nice."
"It will be very nice, I assure you. And leave those damned red things alone."
They went to the bathroom, where Father Cinder had a very nice water pipe built into the lavatory plumbing. They turned on and then fucked for hours. vn
The antics and opinions of Father Cinder confused Becky more and more as each day passed. The man was fucking little children without a thought, and he preached brimstone and fire about obscenity and pornography. He smoked pot and ranted against drug abuse. She had to wonder when he was going to start attacking camera and photographic equipment manufacturers, since the camera was taking a high position in his daily life. Every time he would stone a small child and fuck him or her, he would have her take photographs of the adventure. Then he would use those pictures to incite the children to further excesses of lust.
And he seemed to be devout all the time. There were no flaws in his outward appearance. She had to admire the way he carried his dual existence out so perfectly but she was still confused about him. She tussled with the problem of good versus bad. He would become upset and rave at her, saying that there is no possible distinction. Personal comfort and personal discomfort, he preached, are the main issues. Becky tried to understand this. He had put it more clearly for her.
"Let's take you, for instance," he had said. "Suppose you hate the color orange. Now then, suppose that people who hate the color orange all get sent to a concentration camp where they are herded into gas chambers and killed. Nice?"
"No."
"No. Of course not. Not for them. But you hate the color orange. But you're smart, right? You hate the color orange, but you go public, see, and explain to people why the color orange is the best color in the world. Man, people want to hear that shit! Tell people what they want to hear, always! So you do, and you have all the comforts of life, plus respectability! No substitute for respectability in this society! Do I make myself clear?"
"But the issue is pornography and hypocrisy, not the color orange."
"Garbage! It's exactly the same! Really, it's a matter of mere words!"
"But the pornography issue has certain implications - like freedom of the press."
"Oh - my - God! What if there were a law about the color orange? Wouldn't it be the same as what we have? Think about it! And now that you have tell me about freedom. No, I'll tell you! Freedom is as freedom does. I don't give a good goddamn if this is the free democracy of all time if I'm in some government cage. Freedom is a personal issue. If we want freedom - with things the way they are - we have to get it any damned way we can! I got mine, friend, and I'm just trying to show you how to get yours!"
"But it's hypocrisy!"
"EVERY FUCKING THING IS HYPOCRISY, CANT YOU SEE THAT?" "You don't have to yell at me!" she said. "Well, you're so stupid!" "But it's hypocrisy!"
"So what? Fight fire with fire, dummy! Hypocrisy works really well against other hypocrisy! Haven't you learned anything?"
"I'm trying but gee, I'm only fourteen," she said.
"And do you have any idea how many fourteen-year-olds are locked up in this country right now because they'll think just like you do? If they're old enough to be in training jails, they're bloody-well old enough to learn to fight the system intelligently!"
"What about fucking?"
"Even fucking is out! At least, it's stupid to go around saying that fucking is wonderful! You have to say it's bad!"
"But it's good."
"It's wonderful! No substitute for it!" he said. "There's a new girl out in the play yard," she said.
"There is?!" He blinked at her. "She's a Japanese girl, I think. About ten," Becky said.
"Get her, get her!" "Right now?"
"Of course! We'll see what we can do with her!" He was all ready and rubbed his hands together.
Becky saw the expression of eager anticipation on his face; she knew what that meant. Her own breathing quickened and she felt her pulses begin to throb. In a state of excitement at least equal to his, she walked quickly out. By this time she was a past master at the fine art of bringing young children, Father Cinder's prey, in from the playground. Very proficient.
Becky Winston may well have been a familiar, the being who does a witch's bidding. She worked with Father Cinder's flock so well that Cinder himself often thought about it with certain misgivings. This afternoon he watched through the sheer curtains as Becky approached a small dark-skinned girl with very long black braids, a blue dress, and white knee-socks. Becky spoke to the girl, who didn't seem to understand. He saw Becky then point at the house. His pulses began to throb as the smaller girl nodded and took Becky's hand. His cock jacked up as he watched them walk toward the house. Hurrying, he went into his study and sat down at his desk, where a very well-planned pornographic display was out for the purpose of being seen by some potential victim.
He leered as he heard the door open and close.
Becky also leered. There was something about the small dark-skinned girl that intrigued her. She had become something of an expert on children while under Father Cinder's tutelage. She had thought about indulging herself as she had seen him do, but he was always home, or couldn't be counted on, at least, to stay away. She really wondered if he would mind if she might get into the act. Now, walking the girl slowly into the living room, she slipped her hand around under the youngster's arm and felt the slight heaviness and swell of the forming breast. Immediately her cunt seemed to blossom into a flower of fire and breathlessness choked her wind off so that she gasped.
She noticed that the girl didn't seem to mind. Her hand covered the small breast again. Definite form, even though it wasn't one of those large hemispherical ones like older girls have. Still, it did the trick for Becky. Her system was responding to the touch most definitely and it was only with extreme reluctance that she brought the girl through the living room and into the study.
"This is Taiiko, Father Cinder," Becky said.
The young girl, actually from San Francisco, smiled at him with those slits of eyes that he couldn't possibly read. Her attitude about seeing the priest was one of wariness, because she had heard talk about him, talk that worried her.
Now she was watching and thinking. The helper, Becky, had purposely touched her tit twice. She knew that there was going to be some trouble, and glanced about for some means of escape besides the door. The window behind the desk was closed but it might have to do. These thoughts flashed through her mind in less time than it took Becky to pronounce Cinder's name. Taiiko took the introduction up.
"Good afternoon, Father," she said, shyly. He raised himself up from his desk chair and walked around it toward her, hand outstretched. "Nice to meet you, Taiiko. And welcome to our little society here. We were just about to have some refreshments. Maybe some tea and biscuits? Or a brownie?"
As he spoke to her his eyes swept her minutely, but without betraying a trace of his real intentions. Her face was flat and the skin was light olive in color, very smooth, and stretched in a tight way that made Cinder think it was enameled or lacquered. She already had little tits, but he knew from experience that girls get small boobies of fat, then lose them, and then grow a real set. The only difference between the baby-fat breasts and the real thing is that the baby-fat breasts are more exciting. Or, for a pederast, the baby-fat breasts are more exciting since the girls who have them are very young. Very young, very innocent, slightly pudgy little girls with baby-fat tits drive dirty old men mad with erotic desire.
And, quite often, a young girl who is obviously of a different race will also stimulate a lecher more effectively than any other.
While he was thinking these things in a flash, Taiiko was saying that she wouldn't mind some tea and a brownie. It didn't occur to her that they were both heavily doped. The tea contained opium for her and the brownies were the good, old-fashioned stand-by, made with grass.
Becky went dutifully into the kitchen for the things while Father Cinder, very proper and very crisp, seated Taiiko in a chair opposite his desk. Then he himself sat, at the desk, and talked to her until Becky returned with the tea and cookies.
Taiiko was beginning to wonder if she had been wrong in her suspicions about Father Cinder. He spoke of things that concerned her and never once made any mention of sexy things. He hadn't even touched her, except to shake hands at very first. Now she was at ease. Her eyes met Becky's when the older girl held out a tray with the small cup and two thick brownies.
"Thank you," she said.
"You're welcome, Taiiko." Then Becky handed Father Cinder some tea and brownies on another tray. They were different.
"And thank you," he told her and accepted her smiled reply.
He smiled slightly at Taiiko over the rim of his cup. His fingers tapped the top of the desk. He knew that the dogs were anxious to get free; they were in the front porch where he kept them because of their constant horniness.
Taiiko had to respond to all the kind attention. She smiled at both of them, then blew on the tea, and drank. Simply delicious. She then took a brownie and ate it. That too was good. "You make these?" she asked Becky.
"No," Becky replied. "Not those. Those we bought at the bakery. I can't bake at all." It's true that she wasn't Betty Crocker, but she could bake and she did bake the brownies. She was good at brownies and made a batch nearly every day. They were good tenderizers.
As she munched, Taiiko was beginning to feel a certain looseness. Her feet were becoming increasingly tingly and she was beginning to grow numb. The overall sensation was pleasant; like she had found a place where things were so pleasant that she could actually relax. Among two new friends. She spoke. The words seemed normal enough to her.
But both Becky and Father Cinder knew better. She was having a hard time talking, the little girl was, and she was also talking very slowly, with pauses and even complete breaks in the train of thought.
Becky glanced at Father Cinder, and then jerked her thumb at her own chest. Nodding her head at Taiiko, she completed the pantomimed request.
Cinder pursed his lips and then shrugged. He had intended to seduce the girl child with the help of his pornographic pictures but the thought of watching his assistant, fourteen-year-old Becky Winston, do it aroused him even more. He could only hope that Becky would be smooth.
Suddenly, a full-proof plan formulated in his mind. He said: "Becky, you and Taiiko play like a couple of good little girls. I have to run into town for a while. Okay?"
"All right, Father Cinder." She winked at him after making certain that Taiiko couldn't intercept it.
He left the room, strode to the front door, opened it and then closed it, making plenty of noise. Then, quietly, he crept back to the half-opened door of the study and leaned against the wall. His eyes were hot and he pumped his hands as he tried to gain some measure of control over himself. He hadn't let Becky seduce any of the children to date but it seemed to be a great idea. He was determined, as he watched the preliminaries, to install a closed circuit videotape camera up in the light fixture or maybe in the hot air register.
Becky sat beside Taiiko and talked intimately to the stoned girl.
Taiiko enjoyed the attention and leaned back, breathing very easily. She groaned sumptuously, lost in a private ecstasy.
"Feel good, Taiiko?"
"Oooh, yes."
"May I rub your back for you? That will feel good."
Taiiko's eyes were closed. "Sure," she said.
"Bend forward then. Here. Put your face down in my lap and let me get to your back. It's such a nice little back!"
The young girl bent forward as Becky had instructed and Becky began to rub slowly, in a circular pattern. As she did this, the circles increased in size, taking in the younger girl's sides and lower back. Her breathing was hot against Becky's legs and Becky's cunt was responding by buzzing and becoming hot and wet. She was rapidly becoming excited and breathless. Her voice was cracking from her dry throat when she said: "Let me unbutton you just a little bit so I can rub your back."
She then undid some of the buttons, trying consciously not to rub down to the girl's fanny.
Taiiko wasn't frightened. She loved the feeling of having her back rubbed. It was new to her.
Becky loved the feeling of the hot and smooth young girl in her lap. She wondered if she was going to turn into a dirty little girl as a result of her intimacy with the famous smut-fighter. At that particular moment she was wishing sincerely that she would! The total experience was different from that first time. Now there was no panic, no fright. But there was the element of delicious anticipation, delicious seduction. She had to gulp her air in and she knew that she wouldn't be able to hold a cup of coffee or a glass of water because of her trembling hands.
The touch of the young girl was hot and magnetic against her shaking hands. She rubbed and unbuttoned the dress down to the child's waist. The back was bared for her eyes. She wanted to kiss that back, lick it, bite it.
Father Cinder had taken his cock out. He was startled as Becky's glance met his. The Japanese (Okinawan, actually) had her face into Becky's lap and couldn't see. Cinder motioned for Becky to hike the girl's dress up.
Becky shook her head and exhibited great annoyance. With a gesture she indicated to the priest to have patience and not try to interfere.
Father Cinder wrinkled his lip and edged away from the door opening a bit.
Becky's eager little hands spread the back of the dress away and she began to rub in earnest, kneading the child's muscles until she heard the young voice cry out in delightful agony.
"Ooooh, that feels so good! Up a bit, please!"
Becky worked her shoulders and then came around to the arms.
"Oh," she said, "I can't get your upper arms, Taiiko. Here, let me pull your dress down a bit more."
The girl was eager to help, and she raised herself while Becky pulled the dress completely down.
If Becky would have had a cock it would have been stretched to a magnificent size, she knew. As it was, her clitoris was now erect, and ready for some action of its own. Becky eased the young girl down so that her face was right against her crotch. A deep shot of pleasure thrilled her as she felt the child's hot breath against her pubic mound. The torrent of hot breath poured down and caressed the weeping cunt with invisible fingers of real pleasure. Becky tried not to whimper or shake.
She began on the arms, moving them out as she did. She bent to see the pressed out sides of the breasts and brushed the sides with the backs of her fingers. Her body was now shaking and was about to burst into flame, crackling flame. Animal sounds were coming up from deep in her chest and through her throat. She pressed her lips together tightly so as not to betray her passion but the sounds came. That hot breath against her cunt was driving her crazy. She moved from the arms and began to rub Taiiko's sides, going ever lower in her circles. Then, able to resist no longer, she moved her hand deliberately to one of the breast sides and pressed it as she passed over it.
The girl beneath her hands moaned and her breath caught.
Becky rubbed harder and harder, touching more of the small breast each time. Pretty soon she was raising the girl a bit so she could course over the whole tit. To her utter amazement the nipple was becoming hard. She wanted to kiss it. Had to.
Breathless and dizzy, she asked, "Taiiko, how do you feel?"
"Ooooh, wonderful! I have never felt so good in my life!"
Father Cinder scowled at that and pumped his cock slowly.
"If you feel wonderful, Taiiko, stand up. I will make you feel truly wonderful, I assure you!"
The little girl stretched and rolled away. She stood, letting the front of her dress fall.
Becky feasted her eyes on the young girl's body. The nipples were dark and the little haloes around them were all puckered and wrinkled. She put her arms out and the girl seemed to float to her. Becky took the girl's arms and bent forward, closing her eyes. She kissed first one nipple and then the other, running her tongue over them before releasing them. Then, hardly able to speak, she asked: "Do you like that?"
"Ooooh, yes! But it's nasty!"
"Yes, it is nasty. Come on now, let's take your dress all the way off..."
She slipped the dress off and was amazed by the girl's body. It was like that of a miniature woman, with broad hips, perfectly formed legs, and a pubic mound that seemed to pump out. Becky could see that the young girl was also sexy.
"Can we be nasty, Taiiko?"
"You won't hurt me, will you?" she asked.
"No, darling. I won't hurt you at all. Now-" And she pulled Taiiko's panties down. Her eyes were glued to the little triangle of black hair. She had judged Taiiko to be about ten. Becky hadn't grown hair until she was thirteen. "How old are you, Taiiko?"
The young girl's eyes were mere slits but they were aflame. "Ten," she said, "going on eleven."
Becky felt a pang of insecurity. The girl was obviously much more mature than she had been. And now she was going to try to make her even more mature.
Cinder, out in the hall, was going out of his mind. Everything was going too slowly for him. He was going to come at any minute and then he would have to just stand there until he could safely stalk in and find them in a perversion. Then he could hold that over the youngster's head and fuck her while Becky filmed the action. He slowed his pumping hand and gritted his jaw.
Now that the panties were off the girl, Becky knew they had cross to the other side. She became all business.
"Here," she said, reaching forward and down, "lift your feet while I take these off!"
Taiiko stepped up as Becky quickly removed the panties.
"Now, I want you to take the rest of your clothes off; 111 be right back. Have a couple more of those brownies. Take the big ones. Those two big ones right there."
As Taiiko took the indicated brownies, Becky went quickly out of the room. She swished right by Father Cinder and shook his hand off her arm firmly. She went right to the room where some of the paraphernalia Father Cinder had bought was stored. In a few seconds she returned with garments in her arms. She also had a white cardboard box, an eventuality that Father Cinder had not foreseen. She saw that he was about to say something and glared at him, surprised at her own possessiveness and fury.
He was too, and stepped aside. He wanted to know what she was going to do with the things.
"Here, Taiiko. Put these on while I pour you some more tea."
Becky averted her face as the young Taiiko got into the things Becky had brought. Then, after purposely taking plenty of time, Becky turned and smiled. "Your tea."
Taiiko had a black garter belt and dark nylons on. They fit her perfectly, transforming her from an innocent little child into a diminutive little dyke. A fox. Becky rubbed her own cunt while Taiiko drank the tea down.
She liked the brownies and tea, but she was dizzy and tired. She felt superb and could hear fantastically well. She could hear Father Cinder out in the hall, and smiled at that. She could hear dogs in the house and didn't smile at that. She knew now what Becky was up to, but something inside her prevented her from running out of there. What her new friend was doing felt too fine to miss. She abandoned herself to whatever fate might hold for her.
Becky, dizzy with passion, threw herself onto the sofa and slouched there like a tired housewife, her legs spread.
"Come, now. Put your face against me and let me feel you!"
"I don't understand," replied Taiiko. She began to get frightened again.
"Come on, Taiiko," Becky coaxed. "I won't hurt you."
Taiiko did as she was told. She knelt on the floor and put her mouth hard against Becky's cunt, breathing through her mouth hot against the material of Becky's dress. She cried out as she felt Becky's hands slither under her and cup her two little girl breasts. A strange feeling of arousal began to thump in her, making waves of noise crash in on her. She loved it but was on the verge of terror at the same time. Small rivers of fire were running from her breasts down to her pussy and she was uncomfortable about them.
Becky threw her head back and began to arch her body up. She manipulated the breasts and they felt every bit as large as her own. She teased the nipples into erection and looked down at the black girdled hips and down farther to the golden globes of the child's fanny. She wanted to kiss those globes.
"Up, Taiiko, up! Get up, hurry!"
Taiiko raised her head and blinked. Her nipples were out like little grapes and the aureoles were wrinkled and puckered.
Becky spread out on her back and arched once again, to take her own panties off. She wore a dress that buttoned down the front and, in accordance with Father Cinder's wishes, she never wore a brassiere. After she had her panties off she worked at the buttons of her dress and shrugged out of it so that her ripe, firm breasts were exposed.
Taiiko was burning now too. She didn't have a care in the world except satisfaction of her desires. Those passions were intensified by the sight of the girl undressing on the sofa. She had to hold herself in check to keep herself from leaping on and kissing her. She cried out: "Hurry!"
"Come on!"
Taiiko made a move toward Becky but Becky stopped her.
"No! Not like that! Not like that! The other way!"
This confused Taiiko. She wanted to kiss Becky, but Becky had told her to swap, end-for-end. What do I do? she asked herself. Do I put my face where she pees? Right on it?
Becky answered her question for her by handling the girl into the desired position. She spread Taiiko's legs and brought the girl's cunt toward her with a strength born of lust, and fastened her mouth quickly against the innocent little slit. Her tongue darted right in.
"AAAH!" Taiiko screamed. She was stunned by the shock of the tongue in her pussy. It knocked her breath out. But then she realized that it was fine. Keen and cutting pleasure. Her resolve was shattered by the brownies and tea, replaced by the lust that marijuana arouses in all dopers. The marijuana had completely transformed her innocence into a madly burning desire to fuck, a fact well known to Father Cinder and all other church men who are experts on hard narcotics.
As he witnessed the disgusting display of Lesbian double-cunnilingus he shuddered, pumped hard, and came into the palm of his left hand.
Taiiko dived down and smashed her mouth against the crotch opened before her face. Her teeth mashed against the soft and pungent lips and her tongue delved into the tangy slit to taste the delicious juices that were already flowing very freely. She inhaled the sex smell and her saliva flowed. She spit some into the cunt and licked it back, flavored and sexy, salty and arousing. She had to buck her cunt down against Becky's wildly working mouth and tried to open her slit up with remote control.
Becky was trying to force her lips into Taiiko's cunt. She was being pushed by an insane passion that she had never felt before. It was a billion times stronger than any turn on she had experienced with Cinder. This was crashing sex to her and she was heavy into it. She clasped Taiiko's small body to her and worked her head back and forth, burrowing in savagely, licking and scooping with her tongue. At her cunt she was certain that she was frothing, bubbling. She adored Taiiko for sucking her off so wonderfully and she knew right then and there that her bag was with girls. Perhaps young girls. Or perhaps with boys too, if they could suck cunt like that! One thing for sure: She had to get Taiiko every way possible.
Her arousal was thundering in on her madly and she began to buck and hump, screaming out of control through her throat. Her fingers worked into the moist crack of Taiiko's ass and her finger found the asshole.
Taiiko was mad with arousal and she felt the touch. She pulled her face away and cried out for Becky to stick it in all the way.
Becky did, and her finger was surrounded by the hot walls of the virgin asshole and rectum.
The penetration ruined Taiiko, and let everything go. Her orgasm, which had been zooming in on her, broke with a fury not unlike that of a bomb. She stiffened and cried out into the tight channel of Becky's cunt. Her come sprang out in a torrent that she couldn't believe.
Becky made it at the same time and shot off as she sucked the piquant broth from Taiiko's discharging pussy. She had also become as stiff as a railroad spike and the two were locked in a strained embrace, hugging each other as though it were the end.
Cinder was on the verge of rushing in, but he held back, remembering the white box. That would really compromise the new girl, he thought, and admired Becky for her quick thinking.
Becky sighed and thrust her face away from the still hot cunt. "Up. Air! I need air!"
"Ooooh, shit!" the ten-year-old cried. She rolled off and fell to the floor, where she lay as though dead.
Becky shook her head to clear it. The ringing in her ears slowly subsided and she stepped over her fallen friend, stepped out of her dress, and walked to the desk. An intensely pleasurable satisfaction filled her. She took the box, opened it, and pulled out a vibrating penis made of plastic, complete with harness. She went over to Taiiko while still holding it, knelt, and kissed the girl's mouth, thrusting her tongue deeply into the parted mouth. Her hand went quickly from one breast to another and she almost bawled because of her intense happiness.
"Come, Lover. We're going to fuck!"
This struck Taiiko as an admirable idea and she opened her eyes. "How?" she asked, and then her eyes fastened on the white dildo. "Oh my goodness!" she said. "Look at that!"
"It has batteries in it even," Becky said, smiling easily. "Watch!" She flicked a switch and then handed the dildo to her mate.
Taiiko grasped it and cried out: "It's alive! It's alive!" Then her eyes widened as far as they could. "But it's so big!"
"It isn't too big, Taiiko. Besides, we're both nice and wet. It'll go right in."
"Can I try it first? Will you put it in me first, huh?"
Becky grasped Taiiko's mound and kneaded the hot skin. "Of course you can, Taiiko. Get over on your hands and knees."
Taiiko did, and she was buzzing with happy anticipation. Her cunt was still screaming for attention.
Becky strapped the dildo on and positioned the perfectly white tip against the lips of Taiiko's wet cunt slit. "You have to spread yourself out so I don't hurt you."
Taiiko's hands went to her fanny as she straightened and spread her legs a bit more.
It was hard for Becky to position it. "Damn!" she snapped, "I can't get it anywhere near you like this! Tell you what. I'll sit here, and you sit on my lap, facing me. You lower yourself on it."
"Okay! Turn it on! Turn it on!"
"I'm supposed to turn it on only after it's way up in you!" Becky retorted petulantly. "Now come on!"
"Aw, all right!" Taiiko pouted but changed her position so that she was facing Becky. She looked down at the cordless vibrator and gulped. It was sticking up like a great big white cock and it looked sterile, like something from science fiction. She spread her legs wide and rested on her knees, going slowly forward. She licked her lips as she saw the warm expression in Becky's eyes.
Becky reached out for her. "Come. Let's kiss."
Their lips slowly went together and Becky pulled her toward her. Then she felt around down by her cunt and placed the tip of the plastic prick against the slit while they still kissed. Their tits just barely touched and the feeling was marvelous. Both were panting, breathing heavily.
Becky broke the kiss. "Is it in?" she asked.
"A little, Becky. It's against my pussy but it's so big!"
"It might hurt a bit, Taiiko. Be brave, though, okay?"
Taiiko clenched her jaws and nodded. She was crying. Then she began to ease back, forcing herself against the smooth knob of the dildo. It was large, and began to wedge in only with great pain. "Ooooh, God! It hurts! It's too big!"
"Try. It'll hurt, but then, in five minutes, you won't believe how good it is! Now force yourself down a bit. Here, I'll even turn it on to low for you!" She saw that Taiiko was about to really bawl.
Taiiko tried to relax her cunt and just force herself all the way down. She gave it a real effort and the pain just about tore her from consciousness. And there seemed to be little progress. Then, when she felt the dildo begin to buzz, a feeling of intense sexual hunger snapped on in her, filling her with shivers and almost convulsing arousal. "MY GOD!"
"Nice, huh?"
"Oooh! But I think I'm going to hurt myself!" She really didn't care; the buzzing was just too good. She began to rock back and forth, taking a bit more of the pleasure stick into her small, unfucked pussy. Each rock let it go in another half inch. Her eyes were crossed and her tongue was out. The sensations that the dildo were sending through her were stealing her breath. The marijuana had dulled a lot of the pain and the dildo's vibrating was creating a masking pleasure that was almost killing her.
Father Cinder's cock was all the way up once again and he just couldn't wait. He rushed in as soon as he had put his cock back into his pants. "What's going on here?"
Taiiko had temporarily forgotten about him and she jumped, coming completely off the dildo.
His sudden appearance had also startled Becky, but it angered her more when she realized that her fun and games were over for a while.
"Ulp, Father! Gosh!" It was a convincing performance all right, but Taiiko wasn't to be taken in.
"You were out there all the time, Father Cinder. I heard you making some wet, clicking noises!"
"That's enough!" he shouted, not willing to give in.
Taiiko cupped her breasts in her hands and lay back, her legs open, her wet cunt aiming right at him.
That was enough for him, and he pulled his zipper down, fished his hard cock out, and fell onto her. His hands ripped hers away from those fabulous young tits and he grasped them roughly as he searched for her wet cunt with the tip of his cock. The cock rutted around down there and found the hot slit and tried to jam in. He released one tit and sent his hand down to position the tip. When he did get it right he lurched forward, listening to the small cries of pain and delight from the child under him. His cock wedged into the tight pussy just a bit and he worked his legs in between hers. "I'll teach you!" he snarled, and bucked up savagely with his hips. His cock rammed against the walls of her cunt, stretching them. She cried out in pain. He grasped her shoulders and rammed up again and again. Her cries of anguish banked his lust fires. The tightly grasping cunt helped. He bucked up with all his might, making real progress now. He was about a third of the way in. She was wailing.
"Turn on the stereo!" he yelled at Becky.
He felt the thin membrane of her cherry; it was about two inches from her hole. He smashed at it, raising his ass good and high and then slamming down on her.
The pain was killing Taiiko and she fought like a tiger to get free of his thick cock. He held her tightly, though. And she was stuck fast onto his cock. Only one thread of delicious pleasure was apparent to her, nothing compared to the pain.
He was pulling her down, and thrusting up at the same time. His forehead was already wet and his nuts were ready to release their charge. But he gritted his teeth, grabbed her, and shot his cock up. Suddenly the cherry broke and his cock shot right up into the very top of her cunt.
She stiffened under him and gasped. Then she went limp.
He squeezed off a small amount of come and then pulled almost all the way out, watching the slow progress of his prick as he withdrew it.
Taiiko was stunned. But after the flame-front of pain passed and he began to move his cock in her, a new sensation of arousal came to her, radiating out from her cunt in all directions. She reached around him and clasped him, moaning softly. Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. There was still pain, but it had dulled and was rapidly mixing with acute pleasure as he began to fuck her slowly, rhythmically.
Father Cinder grasped her tits and squeezed them as he let his cock slither in and out of her newly opened cunt. It was another of those truly fine rapes, and he saw from the expression on her face that she was going to be a faithful convert to his ministry of sex. Pure bliss, sullied only by an occasional twitch of one of her finely arched black eyebrows.
Taiiko was now stimulated and she began to fuck him back. Her small legs went up and, instinctively, she locked her ankles over his back. She struggled to reach his mouth.
Father Cinder saw that she wanted to kiss so he released his grip on her tits and lowered his face to hers.
She bit his lip with almost savage force and sent her tongue over his teeth and into his mouth.
He sucked it in and drained the saliva out of her mouth, savoring its fresh sweetness.
Her bottom was burning and she shook it like a rattlesnake's tail as she tried to feel his cock go all the way up into her twat. She broke the kiss and muttered a string of obscenities that made Cinder's ears burn and nuts explode. He shot his come all the way up into her sizzling Fallopian tubes and arched against her, stiff and in apparent agony.
"Shit!" she cried, "not yet!" She was really impatient.
But her plea fell on deaf ears. Cinder had made it and he had simultaneously lost all interest in her for the time being.
Taiiko was on the verge of hysteria when he pulled his long slick cock out. She called him a bastard and a shmuck and a few other things.
He would have kicked her for two cents, and even glared at Becky. "I have to go to the office," he said. "Do with her what you will!" He stormed out, appearing to be angry but actually very pleased with himself. He was going down to buy a closed-circuit videotape recorder and camera, complete with remote playback set and multiple cameras.
Becky went over and sat by Taiiko. She still had the cordless vibrator strapped to her front, and she decided that if ever a little girl needed some comfort* it was Taiiko.
When they tried the vibrator again it went right in.
Two hours later Taiiko was almost delirious with sexual satisfaction. A very fair girl, she took the dildo and screwed Becky for what seemed an eternity.
By that time both had to agree: Better to get it than give it. Taiiko had put it rather well:
"It's like an itchy ear. You scratch it with your finger; which feels better when you're through, the finger or the ear?"
Chapter VIII
Becky Winston was learning fast. She attended quite a few of Father Cinder's lectures and worked on his tracts. He had her read and edit his columns and took her word for changes in wording quite often. Part of her work consisted in helping him lure a new child into his house. She would snap photos and became quite good at composition and panning. Besides this, she fucked Father Cinder very often and had a wild affair with Taiiko.
In addition, she became quite an authority on pornography herself during this period. She spent hours poring over his books and magazines, photographs and catalogs. She worked before his videorecording camera until late at night, practicing lewd dances for Father Cinder's midnight enjoyment.
In addition to all this, she became Father
Cinder's favorite for entertaining his government friends. She had to fuck quite a few of the important men she would see on television and she had to shake her head at some of their ideas about how people were supposed to fuck. Cinder had told her to expect anything because politicians were, supposed to make strange bedfellows. She knew that he knew because he went to bed with them too. There were no women, so she assumed that he, like she, was a so-called switch-hitter.
One thing for certain, she was always walking around with a sore pussy. She was fucking plenty on the side, including her older brother Mark and her sister Denise. She even had hot pants for her father. She now knew the signs of fucking, so when she suspected that her mother and father were doing it she would peek in through the bedroom door keyhole and watch, masturbating as she knelt. Her mother disgusted her more and more and she confided one time to Mark that she could cut their mom any day of the week when it came to balling a guy.
She drew the line at seducing her dad. If she would have known that she could have knocked him over just like that she would have tried. He was hot for her too. She even smelled like sex to him and he would sit at the dinner table with a hard-on, looking at the way her dark little-girl nipples were pushing out against the material.
Becky was one hundred per cent loyal to Father Cinder when it came to protecting him. Many of the kids were beginning to talk. They knew that she worked closely with him.
"Does he really screw all those little children?" one of her older boy friends asked her one night.
"Father Cinder? Why that man is a saint! Who told you that he tampers with children?"
"Everybody says it! Why, who you trying to shit, anyway?"
"I work with him all the time. I certainly would know!"
"He probably screws you, too, to keep you shut up!"
"Oh, Bob, you know that's not true! I wouldn't do this with anybody but you!"
He gulped. "Yeah, well; maybe it is bullshit, but I don't know. Everybody's sayin' it."
She contacted Father Cinder immediately after he had fucked her and brought her home. "You have to pick me up right away! It's an emergency!"
The sound of her voice alarmed him. "All right. Be there in ten minutes."
They went to his place and she explained what she had heard enroute. He was silent as she informed him.
When they went in he strode ahead in an icy silence. Panic held him as he thought about all the children who could be made to talk if the police got on his trail. His voice was terse and cold and he even snarled at the dogs. Then, to Becky: "Make me a goddamn drink!"
She knew that this wasn't the time to mess with him and ran into the dining room and fixed him a stiff Scotch and seltzer, no ice. After giving it to him she fixed one for herself and went into the study, where she sat down in her place and crossed her legs. She sat in silence.
He frowned at his drink, looked deeply into it, and twirled it as he thought. Becky sipped hers and waited. He began:
"Being a church man I have to be very careful. Now, I have been careful, in some ways." He sighed heavily and drank. "I knew that this time would come sooner or later. I knew it. And I am prepared. Not totally. But prepared in a way. Now I want you to listen closely:
"Here is a key to my safety deposit box. I want you to keep this, and keep it a secret, for God's sake. In that box is a lot of money." He leaned forward and his eyes were steady and hot. His voice was low and dry, almost vicious. "A lot of money, my child. It is yours, if something happens to me."
Her mind was working and she put on her most innocent expression. "I understand."
"Very well. Now listen closely. Get all the color photos of me and those kids, right? And those video tapes. Take them and the color photos right now, will you? And take this key. And - GOD! - take the stash! Put it into a shopping bag and bring it home with you. Stuff it under your bed and I'll pick you up at nine tomorrow morning! For God's sake don't let your mother or father see what's in the bag! Tell 'em it's-"
"I'll tell them that it's reading matter for the school library!"
"Good idea! That ought to make them forget about it in a hurry! Now get a move on! Christ, if they're going to bust us we've got to get that shit out of here!"
Becky was on her feet, running toward the kitchen. She got a shopping bag and filled it with things from several rooms, not forgetting anything. She even got the underwear and dildoes.
When she had it all she was panting. He gave her the key for the safety deposit box and they rushed out to his car. Ten minutes later he was alone. Alone and clean. He started the car and drove slowly away, exhaling heavily. His hands were still shaking. But he was relieved. Now he had to calm down. Tomorrow he would have to make several calls around, especially to Washington. Being fucked with by the police on a baby-raping rap was nothing to take lightly, especially if things are so hot that the kids themselves are talking about it.
Father Cinder didn't want to go home but he had to. There was a lot of checking up to do. He could simply burn anything Becky might have left.
He returned and went through the house like a white tornado. A smile of satisfaction possessed his face. Clean as a hound's tooth! Not one shred of incriminating evidence! He mixed himself a good strong Scotch and seltzer and began to place religious material around, here and there. He even placed a copy of Bishop Fulton J. Sheen's latest book on the back of the toilet.
After several drinks he was woozy. He went into his bedroom, undressed slowly, and hung his clothes up. Then he fell into bed and was asleep almost instantly, without having to resort to anything like erotic fantasies.
Becky got into her house and up to her bedroom with the shopping bag with no trouble whatever. It was nine-thirty and her parents were glued to the television set. Denise and Mark were out. She sat on the edge of her bed, nervous as a cat. Her chin was in her hand and the little fingernail had curled into her mouth. While she was lost in a whirl of red hot thought she clipped the nail off neatly with her teeth and chewed it. Leaving her nine long nails. Her eyes were glazed and her pussy was burbling- but not from sex. She was thinking exceedingly evil thoughts.
Father Cinder didn't hear the dogs because they didn't bark.
He awoke at nine and went into the shower. At nine-twenty he was shaving. It was then that he heard the dogs.
Chapter IX
"Father Richard Cinder?"
He gulped and tightened his grasp on the towel. "Yes."
The older officer waved a folded piece of paper and spoke once again. "We have a warrant for your arrest."
"There must be some mistake!" Father Cinder said.
"Of course, Father. May we come in?" he asked.
"Certainly. I was just finishing my bath."
"Yes. We can see that. Now if you'll put some clothes on and come with us -"
"See here! What is the charge?" he asked.
"Charges, Father Cinder. First, let me advise you that you may make one phone call from headquarters. Everything you say may be used in evidence against you. Ronson, check the premises for the mentioned materials while I accompany the Father into his room. First, you are hereby charged with the following-" And the policeman went on to cite scores of felonies, including statutory rape, carnal knowledge, possession of dangerous drugs, and other matters.
All the blood drained from his body. The sweat covering him froze instantly and he was stiff as a statue. His stomach was a volcano. As he listened he began to shake and then retch. He had to lower himself to the bed, where he sat, stunned and half alive. The man's voice sounded as stern as the voice of God, and he knew that the charges were accurate. He tried to stop his mind from racing but it was no good. He was terrified and thought for a moment, of trying to kill the man so that he could escape. But the coward in him shouted no!
"There it is, Father. Now if you'll get your clothes on."
"Y-y-yes, s-s-sir ..." He stared dumbly at nothing.
"Come on!"
The sharp command shocked him. He was glavanized into action and jumped up, dropping the towel. Despite his fear he had the beginnings of an erection.
The cop looked boldly at him and sneered.
The younger cop came into the bedroom, shaking his hand as though it had been burned. "Whhooo-ee! You should see the shit this guy has around here! What a grossed-out bastard! Better cover the little shit while I call the boys from the crime lab!" "Bad?"
"Heavy, man! He's a regular Jack the Ripper!"
Ronson went out and used the other phone.
Sabrina wandered in and leaned against him, making big eyes at him. She nuzzled his cock and he kneed her away while trying to dial. "Get outta here, ya fuckin' bitch! I saw those pictures of you!"
"All right, shake it up!" the other snarled. He had his .38 out and was waving it impatiently.
In fifteen minutes the crime lab boys were there, coming on a Code Three Charlie. Red lights, sirens, all of it.
And at that very minute Becky walked out of the bank, the key to her new safety deposit box hot in her sweating hand. She wondered if the shit had hit the fan at Cinder's den yet. An evil smile played on her face but she was frightened. Frightened despite the City Attorney's assurances that Cinder would never know that she was the one who had tipped his office to Cinder's nefarious ways. But she was also very excited. She had never seen so many bundles of hundred dollar bills in her whole life. Not even on those crime movies on television. She had counted over fifty, and each of the thick bundles had wrappers that said the bundle contained twenty thousand dollars. She wasn't much on mathematics but she knew enough to figure out that the money represented one hell of a pile of miniskirts, pantyhose, and flares. And more earrings and regular finger rings than she could possibly wear at any one time.
She had thought about the reasons he had his money in a safety deposit box. Obviously because he was receiving spiff from somewhere. It was ice. Somebody was paying him off and he had to keep the money somewhere safe, where it wouldn't be traceable. Her smile broadened so that her cheeks hurt. She fingered the five hundred dollar bills she had in her other hand. They, too, were wet. Ah, well, she said to herself as she hailed a cab, the wet ones spend just as well!
Chapter X
The trial was a sensation.
Becky had made a deal with the eager City Attorney, who was also the prosecuting attorney. She said that she was frightened of Father Cinder's very powerful friends and would not give damaging evidence on the witness stand, not of any sort. Since she was implicated and could conceivably have been indicted as an accomplice, she worked very hard to point out every knot that the prosecutor might encounter.
On the stand she gave a performance that would have made Bette Davis turn in her Oscars in self-reproach. She wailed' and shrieked. The judge, part of the whole gambit, slammed his gavel and declared a recess. Everybody saw Becky run to Father Cinder and kiss his hand fervently.
"FATHER, OH FATHER!" she cried, her face wet from tears and her runny nose.
Tears came to Cinder's eyes even though he thought that she was a treacherous little bitch for planting the evidence back where she had taken it from only a few hours earlier. He had insisted that his attorney contact some of his potential allies.
"So you know what they're all sayin' at me?" the attorney told him.
"No, what?"
"I'm try'n'a tell you what they're sayin', these creeps. You know? They're sayin' that you should go fuck yourself!"
"WHAT?"
"I'm try'n'a tell ya that's what they're sayin' right there! That you should go fuck yourself! They say they never heard of you, the creeps!"
The trial dragged on and then, when Father Cinder was finally asked to take the stand, all hell broke loose. His attorney had made a deal with the prosecution. Plead guilty to reduced charges and name some names.
A subpoena list looking like an official Washington roster was issued.
It was just as Becky had planned. She had worked this out, knowing what a weasel Cinder was. And she had contacted every implicated politician beforehand, giving them the word. More deals, and Becky proved to be tougher than a one-eyed mule trader. She was, for three weeks, more frightening than the Bubonic plague.
But everything worked according to her clever plan.
The officials came armed with attorneys who were armed with briefs and precedents which smashed Cinder's allegations to dust. His attorney and the City Attorney were left with empty hands.
The judge had red ears, to say the least, when one prominent senator got through with him.
When Becky was permitted to be in the court room she sat there as though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. On the witness stand she was Miss Goodie Two-Shoes.
"No, your Honor. I have seen the gentleman on television and I have seen him at Father Cinder's too. I was there the whole time. There was nothing- er- lewd going on -"
"LIAR!"
"YOUR HONOR!" "OBJECTION!"
"ORDER!" BANG BANG BANG! "Counsel for the defendant! Step to the bar!"
"Objection, your honor!" from the attorney of the senator under question.
"Sustained, counselor! Now then, you: One more outburst from your client or you - why, I'm appalled-!"
They threw the book at Cinder.
He received fourteen counts of guilty to various felonies, the terms to be served consecutively. Total time, considering exemplary conduct and release on parole, one hundred and forty years. That's why he wept as he stood before the bar.
The judge, borrowing a phrase, was heard to mutter: "And may God have mercy on your soul..."
There was the usual motion for an appeal. The attorney was assured that Cinder had money and the production, by Becky, of his retainer had convinced him.
Another retainer was required in addition to the balance of the defense charges, a total of two hundred thousand dollars.
Becky merely shrugged. Later, confidentially, she had called Father Cinder's attorney. She wanted to use a word that Cinder himself had taught her.
"There's no money left, sir," she said on the phone. "I'm afraid that he's a megalomaniac as well..."
"A what?"
"A megalomaniac, sir. One who pretends to be rich or powerful when he really is not."
She wouldn't drop her facade for anything. She remembered Father Cinder's advice but she intended to use it where he didn't.
A minor celebrity herself now, with both money and connections that nobody knew about, she intended to expand.
Her chat with her parents astounded them.
"I want to go off and live in the country. Alone."
"But you're only fourteen!" they said.
"I know. I have to meditate. I have been called by God." She suppressed a smile as she thought of saying, "I've been called, by God!"
"But your schooling-?" "The Lord is my Master." "How will you eat?"
"The Lord will provide, in His infinite Goodness." "Oh, Honey!"
"Don't cry! I have a message, I know I do!"
They let her leave. She had transferred her money to another bank and had the nerve to leave it untouched. All she had on her when she went into voluntary seclusion was twenty thousand dollars in cash and letters of introduction from some pretty prominent people. Her parents didn't know this; she reasoned that they might have worried about her if they did know.
Her destination, she informed them, was a section of the northern Wisconsin scrub forest near Minnaqua. "I'll find some nice farm people to stay with." She reassured them with that and it worked. It was a sad and tearful parting.
But Becky went only as far as Madison on the train. There she got off and was met by a strikingly handsome figure of a man with perfectly groomed white hair and a striped tie under his custom-tailored blue suit. He ushered her into the back seat of his Cadillac limousine and they whisked off toward the southeast, bound for Chicago on 35W.
"You are a nasty little bitch," the man said to her.
She glared at him. "Watch your tongue! You'll treat me with respect at all times." She took his hand and fed it up under her simple dress and adjusted it until he got the picture. Her eyes glittered with menacing disapproval of his language. When his finger snaked into her panties and slid into her cunt the hardness went out of her eyes. She whispered to him:
"Do what you want to, but for Christ's sake, don't rap it on down! How do you suppose Cinder got busted ..."
He nodded and smiled.
"You don't look anything like you did last time I saw you," she said.
He turned the volume of the radio up so the chauffeur couldn't hear them. "It's the hair."
"Did you get that scared?"
"Almost. God. But I had it dyed. And then a bit of South America. Argentina, as a matter of fact. Lots of sun."
She laughed. Then: "Yeah. Sun and sanctuary. Meet any Nazis?"
"As a matter of fact, no. I stayed away from people."
"You did right."
"I did the only thing. But I must say, you certainly duked like a pro. That's what I meant."
"I know what you meant. Just don't talk about it when ears up there can dig, dig? A hundred and forty fucking years!" "Terrible!"
"Yeah. What a waste! Good thing he's kind of thick into the gay scene. He'll get his nuts in prison all right. Some spade dude'll fix him up every night!"
"Prison does have its points ..." And he laughed.
He finger-fucked her all the way to Chicago, where they spent the night at the Hyatt Lodge north of the city.
Becky had been brought out by Father Cinder. He had taught her quite a bit, just as Howard McChesness had taught him quite a bit. Her only regret was that she had to be parted from Taiiko temporarily. She liked to fuck and liked to have money, position, and power, but she longed for Taiiko. She loved Taiiko.
That night, in the Hyatt Lodge, she fucked her new companion silly and then sucked him off so well that he thought she was going to cave his skull in.
But all the time she was thinking about Taiiko.
Chapter XI
As Father Cinder, now 645-771, became more calm, Becky became more nervous and high-strung. He was adjusting beautifully to the gray routine of prison life. His credentials qualified him admirably for the laundry, where he stirred boiling clothes. Becky's qualifications, on the other hand, conflicted with her busy schedule. She had only been an assistant to a master schemer for a bit over two years. Now she was a top-notch hypocrite herself and the strain was telling.
True, she was perfectly satisfied with the best of everything, but she ached inside. She missed the routine of school. She also missed the companionship of children. She was spending all her time with older men, men in their forties and fifties. They all waited on her hand and foot. Some of them had tremendous cocks, too. But they were cloying, stifling, damned sickening with their nice manners and pleasing dispositions.
Becky was just plain bored. It was like caviar for every meal. She wanted a hamburger.
Her gentlemen friends reminded her periodically that she was a minor. She had to be protected. This alternately enraged her or thrust her into paroxysms of hysterical laughter.
"Protect me? You? Protect me?" And she would either storm out of the room or fold up and laugh until she couldn't draw a breath of air.
And each day was much the same. The routine. Study, record a message blasting drugs and pornography, lunch, interviews, more study, and perhaps an afternoon appearance at some ladies' auxiliary meeting. Then supper and a night of fucking some perfumed old man, a man who smelled of money and leather.
After three months of this she was ready to scream. She knew that she was losing her mind.
Pretty soon she became morose and would sit for hours, remembering those wonderful afternoons when she and Father Cinder would seduce a strange little kid. "What the fuck good is my own fucking Cadillac and doof chauffeur?" she mumbled one day.
She thought about balling the Oakland Chapter of Hell's Angels, fucking them out of their minds. And then she would throw the idea away. Must was not her idea of good seasoning, and she had read that they were musty as hell. She thought about sending The Rolling Stones an invitation to crash at her mountain crib, and threw that away since their last album depressed her. Who needs Sticky Fingers? Slick Fingers- that's what she wanted!
Her older gentlemen friends- business associates, actually - began to affect her like an overdose of lobster. And she knew how deadly too much lobster could be.
They had a hot property, a fresh young girl who knew all the ropes. She had appeal and was easier to sell than five cent pot pies in a supermarket. Madison Avenue hucksters were hounding them for a piece of her, recording companies wanted her to do combination Melanie-Dirksen songs (Melanie's voice style, Dirksen's sentiment). Even the entrenched Blue Sky merchants, the late-hour radio evangelists, offered to give their mailing tapes to her protectors for a mere fifteen minute live appearance on their shows. They had no intention of letting any of those grubs lay their filthy hooks on their property.
"BUT IT'S A FUCKING RIP-OFF!" she finally screamed at them one night when they were all gathered to promote her into a two-hour special on a national spectacular.
"Heavens, child-" one of them, a slicker from the Vatican, began. "NOOO! NO MORE!"
They rushed around her, closed in on her. AU around her faces loomed in, eerily, nightmarish. She screamed and beat her breasts. She fell to the floor and kicked and screamed. Then she went unconscious.
Three weeks later she opened her eyes. Her tongue was thick and dry in her mouth. She could only see white. Then things began to resolve themselves into shapes and planes, shades and textures. Moving her head was difficult, almost impossible. But she did. And she groaned.
"Oh, you're finally awake! Welcome back to the land of the living!"
It was a painfully cheerful voice and Becky tried to close it off. It persisted.
"We're so glad you finally came back! Let me call down for some nice, hot chicken soup!"
"EATING!" she screamed. "I just wake up and they make me eat!"
"Tut tut," the voice said.
She saw where it was coming from. A character with a smooth face and greasy black hair hovered above her, all dressed in white. She turned her face away, toward the wall, and pressed her eyelids shut as tight as she could, trying to shut his silly image out of her memory. Her jaws were now clenched, despite the heavy sedation coursing through her system. "Go away," she growled.
"All right, kid. Suit yourself." She listened closely and heard the squeak of his heels on the tile. She made a bet with herself that his soles and heels were that red-pink rubber. And suddenly that thought gained a lot of weight. A hospital! Hey, she thought, alarmed, what am I doing in a hospital! All white?! She rolled over on her back and shot up to a sitting position. Her head immediately exploded with a blinding flash. Everything went red and she had to gasp for breath. Then her head began to pound with a fury. The thumps corresponded with the wild beats of her heart. She could feel her heart, and eased herself down on the bed, massaging her forehead with a thumb and forefinger. The pounding and redness slowly subsided. She breathed slowly and then opened her eyes. This time she raised herself an inch at a time and finally sat up in the bed. It was as she had expected.
She was in a plain hospital room, neither lavish nor stark. Trying to find some clues, she glanced around. Her first clue hit her with the impact of a mule's kick. Bars!
Her first thought was prison.
Her next was a nut house.
Either was terrifying.
She tried to puzzle it out. She had never been in either so had no way of knowing which it might be, but she knew for sure that it wasn't a regular hospital. She fingered her gown and suddenly it impinged on her awareness. Not gray, but white. No numbers.
Casting around further, she checked the blankets. Clean and new. Part of her panic dissipated. Nut house. Perhaps a good one.
She heard voices and turned toward the door. One told her that it was the man she had seen. Another voice, calm and measured, joined it. Her defenses came up, her eyes narrowed. She was all of a sudden in full command of her faculties, ready to fight.
They came in. Two of them. One was obviously a doctor because he had a stethoscope dangling carelessly from the side pocket of his coat. He raised his eyebrows when he saw her.
"You shouldn't be sitting up."
"Where am I?"
"In the hospital."
"Which hospital?"
"Wildwood Clinic."
"That's a clinic, not a hospital." She had never heard of it.
"So it's a clinic. Also a hospital. Any headache?" He strode to her and put his hand to her wrist while looking at his watch. He raised an eyebrow in mild annoyance since she didn't answer. "Headache?"
"Yeah," she began after thinking about it. "I got a headache. This place. Where are my clothes? I want to get out of here right now."
"Keep your pants on. You're not going anywhere."
"Am I under arrest?"
"Arrest?" He released her wrist. "No.
You're here because you had a bad experience." His voice was like a Skilsaw, steady but cutting. Like his eyes. Becky hated him instantly.
"I'm having another one. I want to call my lawyer."
"He wants to talk to you, too. He's the one who put you here."
"He did? Hey, listen. Seriously, how do I get out?"
"Afraid I can't help you there. I'm only a doctor. Moreno," he continued turning to the orderly, "watch her while I go call Hobbson. Have him heat up the - er - machine."
"Sure thing, Doc." He leered at her. The doctor left.
"Look, you - Moreno. What's the deal here?"
"You're in for some work, that's all," he answered.
"What kind of work?" "Don't ask."
"Hey, shit! C'mon, man. What's all this?" she asked.
He walked over to her and almost drooled as he eyed her. His mouth curled into. a crooked smile. "You have some enemies," he said.
"Damn right I do! What's this work?" She was now genuinely frightened. She didn't fear the man looking down at her in the least but she didn't like talk about warming up machines.
"Ever hear of shock treatments?" he asked.
"No. What are they?"
"Well," he said, his eyes sparkling with delight, "they take this salve and rub it on your temples, see? And then they take two electrical things and put 'em against your skull. Put a block of wood in your mouth so you don't bite your tongue off when they sock it to you -"
"Wait a minute!" She was now paralyzed again and her body was frozen. "Electricity? Into my head!"
"Yeah, kid. Thousands of volts. Fries the top of your brain off if you get enough. Can't remember anything about anything! Drool and walk around for the rest of your life like a vegetable."
"Aw, come on!"
"You asked!"
"You have to be crapping me!"
"Nope."
"No?"
"Nope!"
"You don't have to look so damned happy about it." Her mind was racing once again. "By the way, what do you get out of all this? What's your percentage?"
"Me?" He hooked his thumb at his chest. "I work here, is all."
"No shit? You work here? Frying brains?"
"Yup!"
"You jerk! Listen. Quick. Here. Feel this tit! You want plenty of that?" She thrust it out as the orderly's hand cupped it. She saw his cock start to swell inside his tight white pants.
"I got plenty of that around," he said.
"Look, Moreno. You know who I am?"
"Sure. That anti-smut fox on TV."
"Yeah. Now ain't that a kick? It's all a bit. Listen. I'll fix you up, but get me out of here! How's a hundred grand, cash."
"Aw, come on you, now."
"No stuff, man. Christ! Ill- well, you take me to Detroit- be with me all the time! Use a damned gun! Hurry, man! A hundred thou!"
She saw that she got to him. His face muscles tightened and his expression of calm arrogance changed subtly to one of worry and fear. Uncertainty.
She pushed. "Look, can we get out of here?"
"They'll be coming for you!" "Is this some kind of butcher shop?" she asked.
"You might say so. You got a hundred thou?"
"Oh, shit!" The supreme contempt in her voice convinced him.
"Hang tough. I'll get a gurney," he said.
She didn't know what a gurney was and didn't want to know. She just wanted him to haul ass. "Hurry!" She shrugged his hand away from her breast and looked around in wild panic.
He walked quickly out and returned after an infinite string of eternities, pushing one of those tall tables on wheels, the sort used for pushing people into operating rooms. "Hop on," he said, and she heard distinct fear in his voice.
She did and he threw a blue sheet over her.
"Perfectly still, now." "Yuh! Hurry!" "Shut up!"
She felt the vertigo as he wheeled the cart around and began to push her down the hall. Cheap place, she muttered, noticing that one of the rubber wheels must have been notched to make a bump bump bump as the cart moved along. And she chided herself for not noticing the color of his heels and soles. This bit of nonsense made her worry. No time for idle thoughts, dunce!
She almost leaped up when she heard a new voice, a mean one. "What you got there?"
"Early shift blue light from 2B."
She smiled. Old Moreno was a born liar after all. And the bump bump bump didn't even hesitate, slow or accelerate.
"Fuckin' Mason," the other voice muttered.
"His head's gone," Moreno agreed.
Now Becky noticed acceleration. She almost fell off as he negotiated what she guessed was a very smart right turn.
A minute passed, or maybe fifteen seconds. Another voice. "Where's that for?"
"Watson's in Aubum."
"Got the ticket?"
"Already in the meat wagon."
"All right. Have Jimmy bring it in."
Bump bump bump.
"Check."
There was a rough bump, a jolt. And then cool air, clean and not heavy with antiseptic. She knew that they were outside. Her spirits rose. She heard him mutter at her to stay still. She did.
Rough handling. She felt arms around her and heard the sound of exertion. She was lifted, in the sheet, and tossed onto something hard. The floor of a car or truck. "Quiet now." The sound of a heavy car door slamming. And a really rotten stench. Like puke and old blood. Death. Voices out there. "Hey, man, what you got theah?" "Just - this-!" Through clenched teeth. A thud and grunt, the sound of hardness crashing down on bone. Running footsteps. Another door opening. Floor lurching. Slam. Hurried starter motor and a roar from a large V-eight. Suddenly another hard lurch and the sound of burning rubber and a screaming engine. Over the noise: "HERE WE GO!"
She took it as her cue. The sheet was all tangled and she fought her way out of it while rolling around on the floor of the madly careening vehicle. Out, she gasped. A hearse. She hated hearses. Instantly, she loved this one.
"Hit it, man!" she yelled and tried to steady herself on her hands and knees while crawling forward.
On an impulse she shot a glance back.
Nobody was pursuing them from the rapidly receding brick structure. Hopeful and very relieved, she began her trek forward again, prepared to face an entirely new problem, one that weighed approximately one hundred and seventy pounds. With greasy black hair and funky eyes.
All she had on was her thin cotton robe. She climbed over into the front seat. For the time being she intended to use her disadvantage to her advantage. She was, in short, careless.
"Where the hell are we?" she asked. She saw that the speedometer needle was quivering at one-ten.
"Some jerk-ass town called Elgin. Few miles out. Detroit, you say?" He glanced at her and then down at her pussy. He almost lost it on a very easy bend.
"Heyyy!" she said, and pulled her hem down.
"What the hell?" and he shrugged. His knuckles were white on the black plastic wheel.
"Come on. We're out in the open now. Get a ticket stuffed up."
"I'd welcome cops right now, kid," he said.
"You appropriated this hearse, remember?" "So what's two years? If those guys get me - get us-!" "That bad?"
"No shit! Bad motherfuckers. Some friends you got, by the way."
"Why didn't they zap me when I was out?" she asked.
"They like to do tests on you first, to make it legal." He slowed to seventy and his hand went onto her leg. "You're not a bad little fox. How old are you, anyway?"
"Fourteen, at last count."
"So we do the Mann Act, too."
"Don't give it a thought. I have films on those geezers. So they're fuckin' with me now, huh?" She smiled and shook her head. Her mind fastened on the pair of long underwear in Mark's middle dresser drawer, the safest place in the world for her key. The key to a million dollars and some mighty interesting video-tapes.
He laughed mirthlessly. "I thought that you were supposed to be so damned straight. Clean, and all that."
"Oh, I am! Can't you tell?"
"Yeah. By the way you say 'fuck!'" he said.
"Hey, Dude; what's your name, anyway?" she asked.
"You can call me Pete."
"Hey, Pete. Thanks. Really. We should stop and rip off a piece just for togetherness, y'know?"
He smiled at her. She was better than anything he had ever seen. "Later. Plenty of time."
She said it dreamily, almost as though she were somewhere else: "Yeah. That we do ..."
"Where you from?" she asked him after a few moments of easy silence. She leaned against him.
"Me? I'm a Spik. From this joint down on the ocean in Mexico. You never heard of it."
"Tell me about it, will you?" she said, purring softly.
He started to tell her about it and when he was on the part about the mountains he looked down at her. She was sound asleep.
He was still scared out of his wits at what he was trying to do, but he was relaxed enough to put his arm around her.
Chapter XII
Pete Moreno was lucky enough to have a good friend.
Luis Banda ran a cut-rate gas station south of Chicago. He also had a 1961 T-Bird in passable condition.
Pete swung the steaming hearse into the station drive and shot right behind the sign advertising premium for twenty-nine-nine and regular for twenty-seven-nine. And then behind the old tires. The hearse slid to a stop in a cloud of thick red dust behind the station house and right next to the ratty beige coupe.
He scampered out of the hearse and into the station through the back door. Luis was ready to strike out with a tire iron when he saw the white clothes and recognized Moreno.
"Ay, you asshole! Give me a stroke!" Luis said.
"Luis! Gotta use your wheels, man!" he said.
"No way, chingado!"
"C'mon, man, ya shmuck! Bad scene!" Pete said.
"What'sa matter? Heat?"
"You know it! Just for a day or two, man. No shit!"
"Aw, you fink! It hardly runs!" Luis said.
"So I go slow. C'mon, hey! I'm shittin' tacks!"
" Awww, shit! No more'n two days, putalon!" he said.
"Ummm!" he said, taking the keys and roughing his pal's hair, "I could keees you mout'!"
"PWAH! Giddaddaheah!" He kicked at Pete, who was already out of there.
The Thunderbird relaxed both Becky, now awake, and Pete, now much much calmer. Those mechanical voices in his mind had gone completely and he laughed in relief.
"What's funny?"
"Oh, I was just thinking. 'The suspects are proceeding north at a high rate of speed on highway-', you know!"
"Yeah!" She leaned back in the seat. "How old're you, Pete?"
"Me? I'm- oh, hell- I'm twenty," he said.
"What sign are you?" "Pisces."
"Hey! I'm a Gemini!" "So?"
"That's good. Double signs, both of 'em," she said.
"That's good?" "Why not!"
"There ya go!" He laughed. "Why not!" He suddenly turned serious and slowed the car from fifty to forty. "Hey, Becky. You weren't - uh - shitting about that bread - uh - were you?"
She looked at him, as though for the first time. Not bad, if he'd stop using that greasy kid stuff. "You got some interior lights in this heap?"
He frowned at her. Then he twisted the light control knob and she looked down at his feet and exploded in happy laughter.
"I knew it! I just knew it!" she said.
"What, fer Chrissakes!"
"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all." She calmed down. "The bread? You mean that hundred thousand I was telling you about?"
"Yeah. You got it?"
"I got it, all right. Yeah. Shit. I got it. No strain."
"I don't really care, Y'understand ..." he said.
"Bull-"
"Aw, I mean, y'know?" And he laughed self-consciously.
When she didn't reply he continued, with a note of bravado:
"It was a horse-shit job anyway. All them nuts. An' I mean the guys runnin' the joint, they were the nuttsiest of all! I mean ta tall ya, they were fishy mothers! Goose-bumps much? Look!"
He showed her his arm. All rippled with goose-pimples. She took it and rubbed it. She liked the feeling of it. Muscular.
She just sat there, relaxed and happy, rubbing his arm. She put his hand down on her pussy. His fingers felt around. She saw him look down there and frown. He pulled his hand away like it had been bit by a snake.
"Hey, Man!" he snapped, obviously irritated.
"What's the matter, Pete?"
"I don't wanna do that. C'mon, hey." Slowly but firmly he took his arm away. He frowned into the lights of the oncoming cars. They were approaching Chicago and the Loop was shooting a glare up onto the low clouds overhead, making them appear to be hanging luminosity.
She sensed that he was angry with her. "What did I do?"
"Aw, just knock it. Hell, you're only a kid!"
She laughed at that. "You think so?" she asked.
"I know so. So just leave me alone, will ya? An' about back there - your boob in the hospital -"
"Oh, don't be a creep."
"Naw! Hell, I'm sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry about, Pete. Really." She took his hand and gently pried it off the wheel.
"No screwin' around, okay? I'll hold your hand."
She smiled as she looked straight ahead. Even though she was smiling, tears grew in the corners of her eyes. She realized that she was squeezing his hand, rubbing it, holding it in an almost embarrassingly affectionate - loving? - way. And she was aware of a new feeling. Something like the feeling she held for Taiiko. Love? Her smile faded and her eyes narrowed.
Automatically she raised her hand, the one which held his, and she brought his hand to her lips. She almost burst into tears as she kissed it. As it was the tears flowed but she didn't sob. Her heart was thumping out of her chest, though. She would have died for him at that moment. She kissed his hand and then brought it back down.
Pete raised an eyebrow at his crazy prize. The kiss on his hand made his stomach do flips, made him nervous and uncomfortable. He liked her. More than that. He really liked her. Loved her, in a way. Like a sister, a little sister, a crazy, mixed-up little sister. He hauled her hand over and kissed it. He smiled at her and when he saw that he had made her cry he froze, frowned, and dropped the hand. A poco crees que era tu hermana, chingado! He cursed himself in his easiest thought, his most difficult thought. He argued with himself, both won and lost, and grabbed her hand again. He had a burning love for her. A love that would have made her proud and happy, because the strength it gave him was sufficient to make him fly, kill a man with a single blow, and be noble.
And Pete Moreno knew, better than anyone else around, what a dirty bastard Pete Moreno really was!
Right now Pete Moreno found himself. Holding hands with a fourteen-year-old hypocrite.
He had a few bucks, and took a right on the freeway to catch the Indiana Turnpike. He fiddled with the radio and found a rock and roll station. He popped a stick of Juicy Fruit and gave it to Becky.
She smiled as she took it.
He popped one for himself and chewed like the Checkered Demon.
The Grand Funk Railroad was on, blasting away.
They almost got killed by a Swift's Premium truck.
She took his hand again. She moved it from her left hand to her right and at exactly nine-oh-five coming up for the super hit bound pick she ran her left hand through his hair. It felt as greasy as it looked and she pouted, crushed. But she ran her hand through again, determined not to change him for anything in the world. He was a Spik, sure. But a good sonofabitching Spik. Not like those respectable turds who wanted to use her, fuck her, and burn her brain out and leave her a drooling idiot. Moved by the emotion of love, she asked: "Pete - my Pete - is there anything in the world ... anything I can do? ... for ... you?"
Her eyes were wet and shining and she had to pee badly.
"Yeah," he said. "Uh, would you scratch my back?"
Normally, Becky would have killed for that. But now she reached behind him and dug her nails onto the heavy starched material of his coat.
"Arrgh! Dio! Just perfect! We must be hooked up!"
She got him where he itched. Right on. Heavy.
This also affected Becky. Her heart swelled. She pressed herself against him when he told her to stop scratching. She took his hand again and bit his thumb. He yelled but didn't jerk the thumb. He had never felt quite so good before.
A while later: "Pete? Is it Pedro?"
"Sure. Pedro!"
"Pedro? I gotta go potty."
"Oh, fer Chrissakes! We're on the fu- er - freakin' freeway an' she's gotta go potty!" He frowned at her with mock anger.
She pouted happily.
He pulled the blunderbus over to the corrugated tin bumper.
She got out, stepped over the thing in her nightie, and squatted. Then, smiling, she leaped back over, all happy.
In the car, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.
His cock twitched and his stomach flipped again. He swore at himself again and he loved her out-of-control. Not her, though; he loved who she was.
Breaking away, he played ditty-bop games. "Everything come out all right?"
"As a matter of fact, no!" And she laughed, hugging his arm. "I went on gravel and splashed all over my ankles!"
What gaiety! He thought about licking her ankles so she would feel better. Instead he put his arm around her and made for the ITC toll station just ahead.
As she nestled there, Becky thought about Mexico, about being Pete's wife. It pushed her closer to him, that warm thought.
Pete was looking at the gas gauge, mentally counting his change, and thinking about one hundred thousand dollars. The last part made him feel cheap, uncomfortable. That last part made him feel like "a fucking putalone."
He knew that he was just a Mexican bastard, but he also knew that he was no putalone. The very thought somehow ruined the warmth and comfort of her against him. That really bugged him. He knew what he had to do and that made him furious. But he was Pedro Gonzalez Medina Mendez Moreno Jiminez! He had a tradition to uphold. So he hugged her closely and his heart thundered proudly. He took the ticket from the fat little man at the toll booth and accelerated slowly, to save the car and to make sure that his Becky wasn't jostled.
They came into Detroit a bit after midnight.
He drove straight to the slums. There was a parking spot among the garbage cans. The garbage cans, all kicked out, stood straighter than the houses. He knew it, she saw it.
Becky wasn't afraid.
Pete was. He opened his door, locked it, and slammed it. He hurried around the car and opened Becky's door. She got out. He locked her door and slammed it. He turned and was once again struck by her beauty. Light from down the block hit her just right. He shrugged, shook his head in Latin appreciation, and put his hand to her waist. "C'mon. Hurry. Bad niggerhood."
They made tracks toward a lonely little house with white siding and red-tinted curtains. Still Becky had no fear. She clung to his arm because it was his arm.
Pete knew the place, she judged, because he went right up to it and opened the door and walked in, without even knocking.
Inside, blue-tinted by All-Star Wrestling, sat a girl about nineteen, wearing nothing but a bra and panties. She was in a huge, itchy easy chair. When she saw Pete she yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. To Becky she looked like a human Siamese cat. "Pete, baby. How's yer weather?"
"Hey, Rosa, this is a pal o'mine name of Becky. I want you to look out for her, Oyer
Becky snapped her head around at him and was about to yell.
She saw his steady eye and stopped. He said: "This is Rosa, my sister. She'll look out for you." He said it.
Becky tried to understand what it all meant. "But-?"
He went to her and took her hands. "Look, you." And he put a wet little kiss on her mouth, a quick one. "That dough?"
"Yes? Please, Pete, Please! All of it! For us! PLEASE!"
"You - aw, hell's bells! I don't want your dough!" He wanted to tell her that he wanted her but couldn't - wouldn't - take her, because of something built into him. He couldn't even say that. He was left there, helpless, with empty hands.
If there was magnetism, that was it. But perhaps it was too pure.
Pete's eyes were wet and he knew that he wouldn't be able to talk. Known her for maybe four hours, really, and all this. He looked at her, looked quickly at Rosa, and turned swiftly and almost ran out of the house.
Becky threw herself onto the floor and cried until she was certain that her heart was going to crack right in two. He just left, like that. No money, even.
She sobbed herself dry, and lay there nicking. Crusher Kowalski and Dick the Bruiser were kicking shit out of Harley Race and Larry Hennig in the tag team event. Rosa watched it but she kept an eye on Becky. When she figured Becky was ready she sprung a number.
"Becky?" Her voice was softer than her looks.
Becky stopped sobbing and raised herself. "Wut."
"C'mere. Have a blast."
Becky inhaled that enchanting aroma of weed and followed her nose.
Two jays later they were both cross-eyed wasted.
Becky felt close to Rosa. "Is Pete really your brother?"
"That bum? Yeh!"
"God, I love him."
"Can you take some advice?"
"I don't know. What?"
"Forget him! Listen. Tell you what-" Rosa began.
"What?"
"There's a joint down the street-" she said.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. It's called the Purple Pee Pot. Now, lemme tell you, there are some wild-ass mother spades down there -"
"No shit-?"
"But I have no clothes!"
"My stuff'll fit. Hey, yeah! Let's go!" she said.
Hey, yeah; they went. What a plugged-up time they had!
