The problem of the runaway girl is more relevant than ever in today's society.
In The Sheriff's Delight, novelist John Pendleton portrays such a girl. Judy Hallesham, age seventeen, pretty and desirable. With compassion he examines her reasons for running away. She is headstrong and perhaps foolish but the reader can't help but sympathize with her, for Judy is a product of an environment that today sets many girls on the wrong track.
The story could be drawn from a newspaper account, any of hundreds published every year. Typically there are misunderstandings due to the generation gap. Generally the parents are doing their best to keep up with changing life styles, and it would be a harsh judgment to accuse youth of flaunting their parents' desires. But the desire for "freedom to do you own thing" is tangled with parental certainly that a girl of seventeen is not sufficiently mature to make her own decisions, and find her way in a hostile world.
This, then, is Judy's problem.
She's sexually mature; knows it; has proven it. But high school love experiments between young people who have grown up together, perhaps live on the same street, are a far cry from the disasters that may befall a girl away from home.
It can be argued that Judy sought a world that exists only in fantasy. She dreamed of palm trees swaying over sun-kissed beaches, of romantic evenings beneath starry skies. Perhaps the fault lay with the publishers of travel brochures, more concerned with enlisting tourists than with scruples. But at Judy's age the distinction between fantasy and reality can be blurred.
Instead of sunshine she found drenching rain. Instead of finding new friends she fell into the trap of a rapacious motel manager who could easily hire all the girls that he needed to wait on tables or to clean rooms, thus choose those that could gratify his gross sexual appetites. Nor was this enough for him. He had to make her available to others, to debase her beyond the point of endurance.
Author John Pendleton has plunged deeply into the problem of how a relatively inexperienced girl might cope with such a situation. Many such victims would be destroyed. Sadly this is the case of dozens whose plights are recounted in newspaper articles, girls who take refuge in drugs, in prostitution, in suicide. Judy's courage in fighting against odds is heart-warming. Her capacity for friendship and extending warmth to others gives her allies.
But the establishment is against her, her employer, politicians, even the county sheriff join forces to keep her in a state of slavery.
Mr. Pendleton has pulled no punches in presenting Judy. She could be the girl next door to you, unveiled, denuded, shown through language as contemporary as her problem. Her story will stand as a warning to all, to those of her age and to their parents.
-The Publisher
CHAPTER ONE
He said, "You gotta screw. I tell you right now, baby. You gotta fuck to hold the job."
Judy felt tears burn down her cheeks. Her eyes were closed. She stood against the wall of the motel office, the wall felt warm to her back. She was shivering, her sopping clothes dripping rainwater. Outside, the storm still raged. Rain drummed loudly on the roofs of cars lined up at the motel units. Judy was indoors now, no longer hitchhiking, and this motel manager had said that she could have a job making beds and waiting on tables: she would have a warm place to sleep, and right now supper was being served in the employees' dining room.
A bell rang. He said, "I'll be right back," and left the office.
She smeared the tears from her face. In a mirror she saw herself, a drowned rat in a shirt and blue jeans and sandals. She was seventeen-a pretty, tawny-haired girl with big breasts. Back in high school, boys had called her sexy, and one girl had admitted that she copied the way that Judy walked to make her behind wag. But she looked miserable now, hair plastered flat to her head, shirt stuck to the thrusting cones of her breasts, her pants crotch worked into her split and molded to the plump bulges of her cuntal lips. She had hitchhiked all day in the rain and she looked it, and felt it. Her joints were ice cubes grinding together. Outside the motel, palm fronds rattled in gusts of wind. She hadn't imagined it could be this cold where palm trees grew. She had run away from home heading southward toward sunshine and palm trees, but the only warmth she found was in this motel where the manager said she had to fuck to hold a job.
He returned. He was a stocky man, nattily dressed, about forty. His name was Harry Dome.
He sat on the edge of his desk, legs apart, and massaged his crotch bulge, an enormous mass that frightened Judy and made her drop a protective hand to her pussy.
He said. "I'll tell it like it is. I can easily hire girls to wait on tables and make beds and vacuum units. But most of 'em haven't got your looks or your body. Christ, you sure have big tits! And lots of girls don't want to fuck. You have no choice. You're a runaway. Your ass is frozen off. You're hungry. You got no money. So you'll fuck for the price of a meal and a warm bed."
Fighting down her shivers, she said, "Mr. Dorne, I'm a good worker. You'll see. I really work hard. I'll make it up to you."
"You'll fuck, too "
"But Mr. Dome-"
He scowled. "You're not cherry, are you?"
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Tears seemed to be not only running down her cheeks, but choking her throat.
He said, "One cock is the same as another, except mine is bigger than most. I bet your boyfriend has fucked you. Well. I'm your new boyfriend."
He was still massaging his crotch. She saw his hardening prick form a long ridge in the material of his pants.
Her stomach was roiling. She fought down the impulse to vomit.
Harry Dome was balding and fat lipped, ugly, even if he was well groomed, dressed in a blue blazer and blue and white striped pants, and white shoes.
He said, "You can go back out into the rain, or do what I say."
She heard a gust of wind outside blast the palm fronds to an insane clattering. Torrents of rain crashed on the car roofs.
She couldn't return to the storm.
Because she didn't leave, Harry Dome grinned.
"You're going to stay, huh?" he said.
"Please, Mr. Dome," she whimpered. "I haven't eaten. I'm so cold I just can't, I can't-"
"Let's see your tits."
She gaped at him, understanding but not believing. This couldn't happen to her. She had escaped home on a sunshiny day, unable to endure it any longer, full of dreams of palm trees bending over sun-kissed beaches. Get a job. Any job. A place to sleep, some swimming and sunbathing, meeting new people-forgetting-
But this hideous man wanted her to bare her breasts.
"Unbutton," he growled, nibbling the tip of his cigar, then turning to spit a fleck of loose tobacco into the wastebasket.
She pressed nerveless fingers to the top button of her shirt and twisted it free.
The shirt burst open, baring her cleavage.
Dorne eyed the lush swells. He palmed his crotch bulge and rubbed it slowly, voluptuously.
"Go on." he said.
The wet shirt was shrunken tight on her nipples. They were erect from the cold and protruded like pegs, stretching the wet blue denim. She struggled with the next button. The thread broke and the button flipped off, exposing the upper rounds of her breasts. Judy shut her eyes, trying to hide from her shame. But warm air oozed over her bared flesh, warm, dry air caressing her. It felt good, it felt heavenly! The third button held a band of material taut between her breast points. She tore at it, her wooden fingers shaking as she thought, I have to open it, let in that warm air! But when she saw Mr. Dorne lick his fat lips, her stomach sucked in gurgling, trying to erupt.
The button at last came free.
The shirt sprang open, winging out from her breasts, lusty melons bulging at a yellow bra. The bra was thin, the stretch kind, no hooks. Father had forbidden her to wear such bras, saying that her bosom was too robust for such meager restraints. Father was a Methodist minister. To him her titties were lush advertisements for sin and must be securely trussed up. compressed, diminished. In a light bra like this they wobbled, and if she moved quickly they lurched all over her chest.
Her nipples and the puffy circles of her aureoles showed through. Dome was licking his lips, but Judy kept on unbuttoning because warm air was flowing into her shirt, laving the goosepimples, blessed relief from bone-rattling cold.
"Pull it down," he grunted.
"What?"
"You bra. Pull your fucking bra down!"
Fresh tears flooded her eyes. Couldn't he see through it? Did he have to further degrade her? But the thought of warm air on her breasts decided her. She fingered into the cups, stretched them out over the erect nipples, and jerked the nylon down underneath.
THE END of Dome's cigar dipped.
"Baby, what a pair of knockers!"
Judy gazed down at her breasts, like super sized grapefruit jiggling on each breath, a plump, out-thrusting pair capped by puffily protruding aureoles that tapered into thick nipples. The way her breasts stuck out and the big, pointing pink caps, had always made her vacillate between pride over the lusty femaleness of them, and shame. Father had brought on the shame part, making her so self-conscious that when she changed clothes in company with another girl, like for swimming, she tried to hide them. Her best friend, Nancy, had been green with envy, saying she had never seen such luscious melons. But Father had made her wish they were nubbins.
She cupped her hands on them, trying to conceal at least the big pink tips.
Dorne said, "Now show me your snatch."
Terror gripped her crotch like a steel claw digging into the tender flesh.
He growled, "Open your pants! I want to see your cunt!"
Groaning, she obeyed. She broke open the waist snaps, unzipped, peeled down the clammy jeans and panties, thrusting them down her thighs.
He laughed. "Christ, that's the hairiest twat I've ever seen!"
His debasing remark made her blink at fresh tears. She knew she was hairy. She had a thick, furry triangle of belly hair, bushing out on her pubic mound, curving down between her legs in a furrowed mat ending in curly little beards on her pussy-lips. Charley used to say her wealth of cunt-hair was sexy. Charley had been the first guy to get into her panties, and he said a girl with big tits and a plump ass should have lots of crotch fur, but she knew Father wouldn't approve of such a lush growth. She gazed down her breasts to her belly and saw her bush fluffing out as it dried. It was darker than the hair on her head, which bleached to wheat color in the summer sun. This was brownish stuff, expanding now to curly fringes against her white thighs. Her jeans and panties were nasty, clammy bands about her legs but her belly and crotch and behind were drying, and the warmth helped her endure Dorne's evil leer.
He stroked his erection. He said, "You got the body for it, all right. Maybe with experience you'll make a good fuck." He quit toying with his prick then. He asked, "Hungry?"
She nodded vigorously.
He said, "You want to eat, then take a hot bath. Right? Okay. You can go eat now. But remember, when I say 'fuck,' you spread your legs."
She shuddered. She did not reply.
Suddenly he yelled, 'Tell me that you agree to the bargain! Or get your ass out in the rain!"
Standing there bare breasted, her pussy exposed to his view, she felt too miserable, too hungry, and still too cold inside, to care.
"I agree," she whimpered.
"Then pull up your pants and let's go."
* * *
The employees' dining room seated about a dozen. Judy ate supper alone. Rather, she wolfed it down, chicken and sweet potatoes and peas, two servings, and corn muffins and blueberry pie and four cups of coffee.
She was served by a fat, complaining woman in a dirty cook's apron. It was late, almost midnight, and the restaurant was closed. The food was dried out, several times reheated, but Judy wiped her plate with the last corn muffin and ate every crumb.
Harry Dorne entered, moving nimbly for so heavy a man. He tossed a key on her table and said, "It's upstairs." He left.
Seeing him, started her shivers again.
She found her way up a narrow stairway to a hall lighted by a bare, dangling light bulb. The room, number four on the key tab, proved tiny, and meagerly furnished with an iron bed and a small easy chair and a dresser. There was a bathroom, containing a tub and washbasin and toilet, cheap fixtures and everything scrunchily small but, when she turned on the tub faucet, hot water steamed out.
Sheer heaven!
She locked the hall door and stripped in frantic haste. Hot water! She hung her shirt and jeans on wire hangers from the closet. She tossed her undies into the tub to be washed while she bathed. She flipped up the toilet lid and squatted to pee.
Even the toilet seat was warm. She sighed deeply as she spread her legs, remembering that the last time she had urinated she had been crouching in the rain, backed against a scaly pine tree, peeling down her jeans and panties out of habit but aware that it would be smarter to just piss her pants and feel the warmth on her legs.
Steam rose from the tub. Beautiful! She grinned and hugged her breasts and squirmed on the warm toilet seat, thrilling at the moment's absence of pain.
She had a job. No matter how little the pay, she would eat and be warm. Maybe tomorrow the sun would shine and she would have an hour or so to go down to the beach.
But Dome said he was going to screw her.
She flicked a glance at the hall door. Locked. But Dome must have a master key.
Could he have been joking? Had it been just a cruel, coarse joke?
It must be a joke. Nobody could be that horrid, not at the moment when she was at last warm, and free of Father's lectures and prayers while he ogled her breasts and got red in the face-lusting for his own daughter! And he a minister. And he had called Charley a wild kid and forbidden her to go out with him. Well, he hadn't known how bad Charley really was. like the night Charley had said he had to work at the supermarket. But she was suspicious and spied on him. She caught him with Nancy in the back seat of his car. Nancy, her best friend! There was Nancy, naked on her back, a heel hung on the backrest of the front seat, and Charley between her thighs.
She had watched, unbelieving, as Charley's ass raised and his drooling cock slipped out of Nancy's gaping, red-lined hole.
He had grunted, "Nancy, your cunt is like a steam bath."
"Better than Judy's?"
"You better believe it!"
Judy had gazed at her girl friend's glistening vaginal mouth, an oval bracketed by wet-haired outer labia, and at the fat red cockhead nuzzling it, teasing, just as he had teased Judy herself, making her beg him to shove it up her hole.
"Come on," Nancy had said. "Ask 'pretty please.' Say you want to be fucked."
Yes, he had also done this to Judy, while her vagina was pulsing and drooling with eagerness.
Nancy had less shame. "Pretty please, Charley. Fuck me!"
He laughed and shoved it in so hard that his scrotum swung down, slapping its load of nuts into Nancy's ass-cleft.
He gave all girls the same line. He had told Judy that her cunt was a steam bath, a better tool socket than other girls had. And she had believed him. Peering through the car window that night, she had been unable to miss seeing the long shank of his prick escape Nancy's clutching vagina, then thrust back in, his balls flopping against her flesh. Nancy was moaning loudly, "Oh-hh! Ah-hh! Charley, oh fuck me, honey, fuck me!"
Her voice had been an echo of Judy's, in the same car, on the same back seat, her legs up high and wide apart, her split gaping to receive the stabs of his big prick.
The betrayal had shattered Judy. She decided that Father was right. Sex was dirty! Her big breasts and hairy pussy must be hidden, and lust withered by prayer.
She had tried it his way-not dating boys, burying herself in schoolwork. But Father's gaze had hung on her wobbling breasts, and if her skirt slipped up her thighs when she sat down, he ground his teeth and launched a tirade on the evils of the flesh.
So she ran away from home.
And now she sat naked on a toilet in a motel employee's bathroom. She had escaped, but memories clung. She felt sick with disgust when she remembered Charley fucking Nancy, and a violent shiver made her hug her breasts and scrunch her eyes shut. I must think only of right now, she thought. I'm alone and free. And maybe Dome was only joking.
She opened her eyes and saw hot bath water streaming into the tub, and thick towels marked Seaview Motel, and big cakes of soap. Beautiful!
In hugging herself she had cupped a hand on each breast. In a suddenly impish mood, she thumbed her nipples. They stiffened and grew out. At home she had been too afraid of Father's wrath to even play with her titties. Sin! Shame! She had rarely masturbated. Well, she would if she felt like it! She drew fingertip circles on the rubbery aureoles and watched them puff out to cones. She glanced down at her pussy-bush. She fingered her mound back, spreading her cunt lips. The beard parted, exposing her pink clit. She poked the glossy nubbin. It grew and a hot flash zipped into her belly.
There was a feeling of pressure in her bladder. She leaned forward and watched between her thighs as yellow piss squirted into the bowl.
Her tub was almost full. She flushed the toilet and climbed into the hot water, settling down voluptuously, groaning with pleasure.
But, almost instantly, exhaustion settled over her like a black blanket. Her eyelids fell, leaden shutters blinding her. She couldn't bathe now. Feeling drugged, she clambered out of the tub, taking her undies and wringing them out and hanging them on the sink faucets.
She blotted her body with a towel and staggered to the other room. She flopped into bed and was asleep when her head hit the pillow.
* * *
She dreamed that Charley was caressing her breasts-Charley, the two-faced traitor, stroking her titties while he pronged into Nancy's cunt. Judy squirmed, crossed her legs and pressed her thighs in on her pussy to contain the liquid pulsing within.
Then she thought she was massaging her own tits, but her fingers were digging into the mattress. She tried to fight up out of the black pit of exhaustion. But if she awoke she would have to face the headlights whipping through the rain, tires sending icy sheets of water flying at her face. She must hide in the sleep of exhaustion, warm, her belly full, and pretend that Charley was not toying with her breasts.
She smelled his breath. He had been smoking cigars.
She screamed her way out of it.
Her throat opened like a drainpipe and shrilled at a leathery wall covering her mouth. A massive hand was capping her mouth and chin.
She saw the buckshot eyes of Harry Dorne and his brown scalp and his fat lower lip dripping saliva.
He was sitting on the edge of the bed.
Another scream was coming. It rose from her toes like an electric charge. She arched up on the bed to shriek.
His thumb jabbed her throat, crushing the scream. But the force of it wasn't spent. Her every muscle exploded. She leaped off the bed and her feet struck the cold floor. She was running, but her hair felt as if it were caught in the closed door of a bank vault. The vault yanked with the power of a bulldozer, crashing her back down on the bed.
He gritted, "You agreed to fuck for food and a bed. Now cut out the shit."
Frozen by fear, she lay watching as the man pushed back and rose, peeling off his jacket and then unbuttoning his shirt. He revealed a chest a yard wide, hidden by a dense mat of dark hair except for absurd holes in which his nipples were visible. He was monstrously strong and, when he shoved his pants down, his wide belly looked hard. The bathing-suit line was low, a white curve under his paunch, white down to the mop of dark pubic hair bushing out of his pants and shorts.
Then he unzipped and, with a single movement, thrust his shorts out over his erection and tore his pants down hairy legs.
He straightened. From his groin protruded a purple pillar of man-meat, a fat shaft capped with a head like a livid apple.
Judy thrust her hand in her mouth to smother a scream.
Dome's scrotum seemed to hang down a foot between his hairy thighs, weighted by fist-sized testicles.
But it was the giant cock that dominated all else, a rigid shaft thrusting out of his spreading nest of pubic hair.
She knew it would stretch and rend her vagina to a bleeding pulp.
The room spun slowly around, flipped and lurched. The everything was black.
Judy had fainted.
CHAPTER TWO
The room swam into focus. Dorne was sitting on the edge of the bed squeezing a tube, squirting some sort of jelly into his hand. He capped the tube and set it aside, then palmed his cock and smeared it greasy.
"Spread your legs." he said.
She bit her fingers again. He wedged his hand between her thighs, knuckled them apart, and smeared slippery goo on her pussy-lips.
"Spread!" he snarled.
Thinking of the icy rain that she couldn't face, she obeyed. She winged her thighs out and a slippery finger entered her slit and lubricated it with the jelly-like substance from the tube. He returned to his erection, gathered up a gob of excess slave, and swabbed it into her vaginal mouth. Then a finger, like an iron spike, lanced up her hole.
He saw her scream coming and his forked thumb and index finger grabbed her throat, crushing, strangling her, an agony to match the stab splitting her between the legs. Her body flung up into an arch and her legs flailed wildly, but she was helpless to dislodge the grip on her throat or the rigid finger skewering her sex-hole.
She clawed at his face. He ducked, laughing.
"You're a fiery little cunt, huh? That's the best kind. When you got a cock in you, you'll hump like a mink and beg for more."
Pain burned in shock waves from her throat to her split and was jabbed back again by the rending thrust of his finger.
She tried to kick him. Lifting her leg only deepened the penetration, and he took advantage of it to wedge in another finger.
She sobbed, shook, screamed in her own ears, whipped her body around and tried to claw his hands away.
Her reward was taunting laughter.
She became aware of the frantic hammering of her heart when her struggles weakened. The drumming pounding within her, replaced the strangled screams and the wrenching, tossing, writhing of her body. She saw him through a bloody-red veil.
The pressure on her throat eased. She sucked in air, heard it rasp in her bruised throat. Again the room swam about her-the bare, unadorned room with its bed and chair and table and lamp and the bathroom doorway glowing green from the night light. The man loomed in her vision, the gleaming brown baldness of his head, his small black eyes and the breadth of his shoulders, meaty and solid and as wide as a door. The impenetrable dark curly mat of hair covering his chest, the stark-white bathing-trunks mark curving under his belly, white around his crow's nest of a pubic muff, and out of it rising the brutal instrument of his lust, that red-purple, greasy organ capped with a flaring dark head-all this was a nightmare made flesh, a child's horror story of an ogre, a cannibalistic giant, Goliath, the Philistines' brutal champion. But she was no David armed with a sling shot, no Jack owning a miraculous beanstalk. She was a soft girl, four hundred miles from home, naked on a bed, two fingers like twin bolts lodged in the burning hole between her thighs.
Her gaze fixed on the dark phallus planted in his groin, a post, the arrowhead end flaring like a cobra's hood. A pearl of white fluid appeared in the split.
It was monstrous, dwarfing the two fingers he had stuck up her vagina and stretched and tore it.
Her belly opening couldn't contain that pillar of unyielding meat.
Her eyes watered. Her breath came in rasps, and a thudding in her head warned of the coming horror that her body could not bear. She felt stiff with fear as the man rose to his knees and. below the stony cock, his scrotum swung into view, long and loaded, swollen by testicles as big as apples.
His fingers were kneading her entire vulva, rolling and pulling her sex-lips, his thumb crushing her clit. the two fingers inside her wagging, tugging her membranous tissues this way and that. With Vaseline and digital stimulation he had softened and opened her. The pain was less, but shame drove her beyond tears into self-hatred. She was letting him do it because she couldn't face the icy rain on the highway, because that hell of rain tearing her flesh like ice bullets was worse than a man fisting her genitals, wrenching her crotch about with two fingers buried inside it. The use of her sex-organ mattered less than pneumonia in a highway ditch. He had to mentally reject the importance of her split. She possessed nothing now. She was naked and owned not even her own body.
He climbed between her legs.
He removed his hand from her crotch and palmed the underside of each of her thighs. He pushed them back toward her and apart. Her muscles didn't fight. Something within her was still at war, but not her legs. He spread them until her hairy underside gaped at him.
He lowered onto her. The dark and greasy knob of his cock neared her split.
Something seized up in her groin-something electric, uncontrolled, a spasm of protest at this violation of her privates, of her secret self down there at the joining of her thighs. It grabbed.
It was a spasm like a fist jerking shut on her bladder.
A stream of yellow piss arched up, spattering his cock and belly.
She cried out in shame. She had been driven beyond humanity. She was" a beast, pissing on the cock and balls and belly of this animal who was raping her. She saw the yellow spurt rise from the open, hairy lips of her twat and, for a split second, she felt glee at having peed on him, and then the agony of having been pushed over the edge of sanity.
He shrieked. "You little bitch!"
And then he burst into laughter. "You peed your own bed! So sleep in it!"
The hot pee ran down her behind. It ebbed, dribbled into her vagina, at last stopped.
She felt as limp as a wet rag.
She was sobbing and he dipped his erection down and seated the head in the gates of her vagina. She felt nothing, just a choking sensation, a blob of flesh that took up space.
She had expected him to jam it in. Instead it sank slowly, entering a quarter-inch at a time.
He grunted, "My cockhead is sensitive. Don't want to irritate it. That's why I grease."
Not to save her pain.
She closed her eyes, hearing the rain spatter on the closed window, feeling the engorged meat squeeze up her bodily opening.
The pain wasn't great. Her vagina seemed to stretch around the intruder. The stinging wetness of piss was unimportant. She was searching for some kernel of hope to mitigate the unbearable shame. Tomorrow-if the sun were shining-she could escape. She could hide on the floor in back of one of the cars lined up at the motel units, hide there until the driver stopped for gas or lunch. Hide. A hundred miles. Two hundred.
Yes. Hide in a car. That was the plan.
While the rigid meat sank into her body.
She let her legs remain up in the air, knowing it straightened her hole, making more room for the throbbing shaft.
At last she was engorged, full to the belly button, containing an object like a long football. He jogged. Heavy testicles bumped lightly against her anus.
The jogs lengthened. The brutal organ was sliding in and out of her, and the thumps of his testicles became swats on her piss-wetted rear cleft.
He chuckled. "You cunt is softening up, baby. They all do after I once have it in 'em. You ask any girl that works here if Harry Dome hasn't got the best cock in town. You just ask. Next time you'll beg for it, baby. They all do."
Then he lowered himself on her. She shrank back in repulsion as his sweaty-smelling hairy body crushed down on her breasts. She gagged at the stink of cigars.
He grunted, "Remember, baby. Anytime Harry Dome says 'fuck,' you spread your legs and drop down on your back. Spread 'em first because I'll ride you down. Got it?"
She thought, I'll escape on the floor in the back of a car-
He suddenly reared up and the pole in her belly jabbed the deepest pocket, and pain roared up her body to explode in her mind.
His hand smothered her shriek.
The next stroke was shorter, but his pace speeded and the greasy meat slid in and out of her. His loins whacked into her split, crushing her clit, flattening her sex-lips open.
The noise now, squishy, a sucking sound, was different. No longer was there the slipperiness of Vaseline and piss. She was flowing, her vaginal juices spilling down her tube, laving the plunging dick.
He had made her yield up her hole-cream!
She panted as he hammered it in. She heard the squishes become louder and realized that the pain was fading and that each time his loins bruised her clit, a little popping explosion fired like a jet of flame into her belly. Despite her desires, her genital zone was responding to manipulation and pressure.
A series of fiery convulsions undulated down her vagina.
Her sphincter clutched the base of his stem and, as he drew out, milked it to the head.
She was on the verge of vomiting but her crotch was reacting, beginning to seethe and writhe.
He drew back so far that the spongy head escaped her, and then she felt the worst shame of all as her lips gaped and throbbed in anticipation of the returning plunge of the brutal phallus.
It slid in. Her vagina choked up on it, roiled on it, and then gathered in a knot.
The knot jerked frantically on the greasy meat.
He let out a yell and his bucking began in earnest, sawing in and out of her at eye-blurring speed, and the concrete stem grew and it was a yard long, thrusting that apple of a head up her hole.
"I'm cumming, baby!" he howled.
Her heels were on his back, bracing there! She was humping up at him!
Inside, she wept. I'm fucking, she thought. Oh, God, I don't want to. I want to die, but I'm fucking his cock!
Then her hole burst. The knot unraveled. Her belly was gelatin, streaming liquidly away, spilling out her hairy lips and running down her ass-cleft.
The man's weight crushed down on her as he stiffened and shot his load up her hole, blasts of cock-spew spurting into her sloshy cuntal pocket. The foul smell of cigars made her sick, but that was nothing compared to the agony of shame she felt. This beast, this animal, was shooting his cum into her, the most horrible experience of her life, and yet her organs were roiling over a peak of orgasm. She was cumming, humping at him, grinding her open pussy at his loins, and she couldn't stop it. There was no pleasure in it, only an ending, a release, an expulsion of vile tensions from her cunt.
At last he was done, raising off her. He wiped his cock dry on her sheets. He gazed at her open crotch split.
He said, "You sure got a wet cunt. You'll make a good screw, once you're broken in." He began dressing.
She was lying on a mattress soggy with her own piss, with vaginal juices and cum. It fit the debasement she felt.
The blanket of exhaustion returned, smothering her, and she was asleep when he closed the door behind him.
* * *
She awoke in burning sunlight, hearing a loudspeaker in the hall blare, "Seven o'clock. The kitchen is open."
She fingered her pussy. The hair was a sticky mess. She went to the bathroom and soaped her crotch and behind. Drying off, she noticed that her undies no longer hung on the sink faucets. Gone! And her shirt and blue jeans were missing from the closet. Her wallet had been in the hip pocket.
Dorne had taken everything, even her wallet containing her driver's license, her only identification.
He had even stolen who she was.
In the bathroom mirror she saw her blue eyes, wide with terror.
She rushed frantically about. The room and bath were empty.
In the closet hung a dark-blue dress with a white collar. On the left breast, red stitches formed the words: "Seaview Motel. At Your Service."
On the floor was a pair of sandals.
She put the dress on. It fit well enough, and so did the sandals.
She combed her hair in front of the mirror. Her hands were shaking. The stitching on her left breast seemed to label her: Property of Harry Dome. The bodice was snug enough to hold her breasts in place, to a degree, but it would be evident to anyone that she was naked underneath. And the skirt was short. If she bent over, her bare behind would show out the back.
She was hungry. Well, she could eat, and the sun was shining, and in the daytime Harry Dome wouldn't dare bother her. She left her room and went downstairs, following her nose to the kitchen and then to the employees' dining room.
The place was a madhouse of chatter and dishes racketing about on metal trays. The women and girls wore the same uniform as Judy. The men seemed mostly cooks, in T-shirts and white aprons.
A girl sprang up from a table and came over, saying, "You must be Judy."
She was a bosomy redhead of about Judy's age. Gray eyes smiled warmly at her.
"I'm Moira. Harry Dome said to show you the ropes. Come on, get a tray."
Shortly, they were seated facing across a table. Breakfast was ham and eggs and toast. Judy shoveled into it, as ravenous as the night before.
Moira said, "First we'll clean up rooms. At lunch we'll probably have to help out waiting tables. Noon's a busy time."
Judy was thinking that by lunchtime she wouldn't be at the Seaview Motel. She found that she was glancing over her shoulder toward the door, afraid that each new arrival might be Harry Dome.
"You're terribly pretty," Moira told her.
She glanced up from her eggs, surprised. "Thanks," she said, noting that the same might be said for her companion, whose heart-shaped face in its frame of soft auburn hair was, indeed, lovely. Her gray eyes were large, her lips baby pink and rather full. Sensual, maybe.
"Harry goes for pretty girls, I mean young girls, that's what I really mean."
The girl's statement was a probe. Moira was asking what had happened the night before, why Dorne had hired her-
She said, "He's a pig. He makes me almost vomit."
Moira's eyes flicked. She bit her lip. "Well, I don't know-"
"Maybe he hasn't-bothered-you."
"He's all right," Moira said. She turned away, borrowed a cigarette from someone at the next table, lit it, and used smoking as a means of avoiding Judy's gaze until she was done eating. Then she said, "Come on, I have a list of the units already vacated."
They went to a storeroom and collected vacuum cleaners, mops, scrub cloths and buckets, and loaded them into a little rubber-tired cart. At another storeroom Moira got stacks of fresh bed linens and towels and they set out pushing the cart, first to number eight.
The sunshine was brilliant. Judy glimpsed lawns and handsome flower beds and palm trees and, through an archway, saw a white vinyl diving board poised over a pool.
Unit eight was a shambles. Whiskey bottles and half-empty glasses stood on dressers and coffee tables. Half of the bedclothes were on the floor and, on the sheets, she saw dark sex-juice stains.
"Party room." Moira giggled, as she piled the sheets in a heap by the door.
Judy had shut it and, before starting work, she dropped down on the edge of the bed and said, "Moira, please tell me about it?"
"About what?"
She was bustling about, collecting the glasses. Her breasts dipped and lurched as she moved, and Judy realized that she wore no bra. When the girl bent over to pick up a glass from the floor, her skirt rose behind and exposed the bare cheeks of her ass and the tuft of dark hair in the crack.
Was Moira also-like herself-a prisoner here, unclothed except for the dress marked "Seaview Motel" over the left breast?
Judy told her about the rain, her hunger, how the motel lights were the first she had seen for miles, and then Harry Dome-
"He told me I'd have to screw."
Moira shrugged. "So? Don't you like fucking?"
"I guess I don't. And being forced-you have no idea how cold I was. My bones hurt. And his thing is so big. My vagina is still sore."
Moira sighed. "Look, it's a fact of life. He's the boss. Besides, he has a terrific prick. Sure, he's not good to look at, but he really has a tool. You got to get rid of such silly ideas, Judy. Relax and enjoy it. Harry is greedy for money, I mean really stingy , but he's not a bad guy."
"I'm not staying."
Moira shook her head. "It's no use. Judy. He won't let you go. Like I told you. you're pretty and young, just what he digs, and your shape is terrific."
"I'll just go. I'll go hide in the back of some guest's car."
"It won't work. Everybody is his spy. You'll end up in jail over in Winslow, charged with stealing motel property."
"What motel property?"
"That dress you're wearing."
"Moira, loan me a dress. He stole my clothes. Give me a dress or a shirt and jeans, shorts, anything!"
"I don't dare, Judy."
The girl's eyes looked dull now. Judy remembered the warmth of her smile when they met. Moira seemed defeated, a prisoner, a slave.
"Judy, the sheriff over at Winslow-it's a town inland about five miles-he and Harry are just like that." She crossed her fingers, holding them up to show Judy. "His name is Art Preskin and he's one mean son of a bitch. Look, honey, it's not bad here if you behave. There's the pool and the beach. Lots of things. Come on now. let's get to work."
Judy turned to, thinking that Moira would be no help. What Dome had done to her! Clearly, escape would have to be solo.
* * *
Together, they made beds, vacuumed, scrubbed, and carried out litter. When they had cleaned the units on Moira's list, she phoned the switchboard and was told which were now empty.
Judy kept her eyes open. As they pushed their cartload of equipment and fresh linens into unit twenty-two she saw a man at the next unit toss a suitcase into the back seat of a blue sedan. He then patted his pockets, mumbled to himself, swore, and went back into the unit.
He had left his car keys there, Judy guessed.
Moira had taken an armload of towels into the bathroom of twenty-two. She was out of sight.
Judy dashed to the blue sedan, opened the back door, slid inside and closed it after her. She scrunched down into a heap on the floor.
The man was whistling when he returned. He got in and started the motor with the same movement. She could picture him turning to look for cars behind. She shrank into the very floor, crushed herself into the mat, holding her breath, closing her eyes, hiding from her own existence.
The car wheeled out, turning sharply, then lunged forward and whipped down the gravel front drive. She heard the crunching of the gravel, then the screech of tires on concrete pavement.
The car lurched, tilting her. She dug her fingers into the mat. Then she was rolled as he straightened onto the highway, and the motor roared.
He was a go-go guy, in a hurry. He was still whistling, an antique song, "Come with me, Lucille, in my merry Oldsmobile."
She was on the point of hysterical laughter. Escape!
She stuffed her knuckles in her mouth to keep from laughing or screaming, whichever came out.
* * *
She tried to calculate the minutes. About ten. Ten miles in a southward direction. Maybe farther. She could even sit up and announce herself to the driver, have him let her out-
Better to wait until he stopped, then leave as stealthily as she had entered. That way she wouldn't have to answer questions.
And then she heard the siren.
It was a wail hanging on the wind, an imperious shriek, like the cry of a mythological bird as big as an airplane.
The car slowed. The driver's whistling had ceased. He cursed.
Her heart seemed to fall out of her body. She looked up and saw a red light flashing, alongside the blue sedan, closing in.
Her driver braked to a screeching halt in the loose gravel on the side of the road.
The siren's wail had stopped, but the red light flashed like the opening and shutting of a door to hell.
CHAPTER THREE
Judy heard her driver say, "Officer, I was only doing sixty. That's below the speed limit."
Boots crunched on gravel. The back door opened, the sunlight blasted in, and a huge brown hand thrust at Judy's face. She screamed. Iron fingers tangled into her hair and dragged her out to fall on hands and knees on yellow gravel.
A bulky man in a tan uniform stood by her, twisting his handful of her hair.
He growled at the driver, "Mister did you ever hear of the Mann Act? You're headed for the state line. If you'd transported this little whore across, you'd be aiming for a steel cage."
"Officer, I didn't even know she was there!"
"Maybe. Anyhow, I got a warrant for her. Since you haven't crossed the state line, go ahead and do it, alone and goddam fast."
Judy's driver sprang into the blue sedan and raced off.
The lawman opened the back door of the patrol car, hurled Judy in and slammed the door shut.
As he rounded the hood to the driver's door she made a last, frantic attempt to escape. She snatched at the door handle.
There was no door handle. No window crank. An iron grille separated her from the front seat.
The officer, a beefy, red-necked man wearing a wide-brimmed hat, got in and wheeled the car in a screeching U-turn back toward the Seaview Motel.
* * *
The highway was a chalky ribbon between beach dunes covered by thorny-looking and straggling trees on the left, and swampy forests on the right. There wasn't a house until the motel appeared, a sprawling, tile-roofed white structure, one-storied except at the center, where Judy's room was. On one end she saw a sign, Seaview Topless Bar, then the bigger motel sign, neon, glowing even in the daytime.
Across the highway from the motel was a beach such as she had dreamed of; golden sands, palm trees as graceful as whips, bearing prickly-looking green heads that swayed in the sea breeze.
She saw the uniformed driver pick up a microphone from the dashboard and say, "Joe here, reporting in." Then he muttered something she couldn't hear.
He wheeled into the motel drive and circled the place. Judy burst into tears when she saw him park in the same slot that the blue sedan had occupied.
He got out and went to unit twenty-two, opened the door, spoke to someone inside. He returned to the police car, unhooking a pair of handcuffs from his belt. His red face seemed pock-marked, wide and set hard, his mouth twisted downward at the corners. A star of gleaming silver dangled from his right shirt pocket.
He opened the door reaching the handcuffs in.
Judy screamed.
A hand like a plank slammed the side of her face, knocking her to the floor. She heard a metallic click, felt an icy band encircling her wrist. He dragged her out of the car and the handcuffs twin clamped on her other wrist.
He rasped, "Now you just shut your mouth or you're going to do jail-time for soliciting. Got it? Know what that is? Means being a whore. And that's against the law."
Her legs shook so violently that she fell on the sidewalk. The man dragged her inside the unit and flung her on the carpeting.
He said, 'There she is, sheriff. Guess I better get back on patrol."
"Right you are, Joey," another man said. "You've done fine. Maybe I can arrange a little pussy for you. Tonight?"
"I promised to take the old lady to the movies."
"Tomorrow, then. This little twat ain't going nowhere."
The door shut. Judy raised her head and saw a tall, skinny man in a tan uniform standing by the door. A star winked on his shirt pocket. A wide-brimmed hat was tilted down over his eyes and he was chewing on a cigar.
She wasn't alone with him. In an easy chair sat Harry Dome, dressed in a maroon blazer and white pants with maroon stripes and two-color shoes, maroon and white. He was also smoking a cigar.
She heard a noise in the bathroom. Her glance jerked there and she saw Moira in the doorway, stark naked.
The man in uniform, the sheriff, the other had called him, drew the cigar from his mouth and asked, "Harry, how you want to do this?"
Dome said, "She's a hard case. Art. Here I took her in out of the rain-she was so frozen she couldn't even talk right. I gave her a job, doubles on supper, and a room. But what happens? She runs off."
Judy was looking at Moira, who avoided meeting her gaze. Clearly, the girl had betrayed her, had told Harry she was in a blue sedan-he had told the sheriff, who had radioed a patrol car-
Moira was leaning against the doorjamb, a hand resting on an out-thrust, naked hip. She was a true redhead, all right, a red tuft of hair fluffed out the joining of her thighs, pale skin, rosy crowns on the swells of her breasts.
Harry said, "She needs to learn a lesson."
"Ought to whop her ass," the sheriff opined.
Judy heard a snickering sound. She turned to the sheriff and saw him whipping a wide leather belt out of the loops. He held it by the buckle and tested it, slapping it loudly against the door.
Rigid with terror, she watched the brown belt snake back and forth.
Then Moira said. "Art. she doesn't need that. She's a good kid. I mean, she just doesn't understand."
"She'll understand. Harry, we'll hang her over an armchair and when her ass is red I'll shove it up the dirty hole."
Moira moved from the doorway. "I have a better idea, Art." She sauntered to the sheriff, hips swaying. She placed a hand on his, holding the belt, and the other between his legs, cupping it on his crotch bulge. "Art, let me show her how. Shell go along. She's all right."
Judy saw her finger move up to his zipper tab, then rip it open. Her hand plunged into the gap.
The sheriff laughed sharply. "I swear you got the softest hands that ever grabbed my cock!"
"My tongue is even softer. Art."
Judy gazed, gape-mouthed, at the spectacle, at the girl's lovely white-rumped body, her hand in the khaki pants, moving around, kneading his genitals.
Harry said, 'That's right about Moira's tongue. She's one sweet cocksucker. Art."
"What the hell," the sheriff grinned. "Moira, I just can't argue with you. Go ahead."
Moira hauled his cock out, a ropy flab that hung over her hand, a red blubbery blob of flesh, the longest Judy had ever seen. Her hand dipped in again and scooped out his scrotum, pinkish and long, fat blobs of testicles filling her palm.
Then she dropped to her knees.
Judy could scarcely believe her eyes as the girl bent to it, tongue extended, and licked the naked red head of his penis. Her tongue at first narrowed to a point that stabbed playfully at it. curled about it, whipped it teasingly. Then she moved closer and swabbed the glans, underneath the head, with the flat of her tongue.
"Shit!" the sheriff cried. 'That's good tongue. That's really good tongue!"
Then Moira licked her lips and pressed them to the split in his cockhead and made a sharp sucking sound. The head bobbed. The stem had lengthened, stretching its wrinkles out to a shiny red surface, though it still hung in a half-hard arc.
She ducked under it and licked to his scrotum. Her teeth flashed as she nibbled it and moved with sucking sounds down to the heavy nuts stretching it. Her mouth yawned and suddenly she popped both balls into her oral cavity.
Art grunted and grabbed her hair, drawing her in closer to his groin while his eyes rolled upward in an expression of ecstasy.
Judy's stomach was roiling. She knew she was going to vomit.
Moira was a friend after all, doing this to save her a beating! How could she do it? Mouth his genitals, munch his testicles with every sign of pleasure, and now tongue them out and return to his cockhead, slobbering over it. licking it, at last taking it into her mouth, grunting and gasping as he hipped, shoving it in deeper!
Despite her nausea Judy felt other things, a prickling sensation, a mixture of fear and excitement. It was erotic, sensual, forbidden. It was disgusting, but somehow it kindled a fire in her, a crazy pulsing she didn't understand. And she also felt an affection for Moira that made her want to fling her arms around the girl and hug her, despite her nudity, for this act of sacrifice.
The livid cock was growing out of her mouth, stiffening to a red shaft narrower than Harry Dome's but terribly long, a foot of prick projecting from Moira's warmly wet pink lips and tongue, which were rolling and caressing the bulging knob as eagerly as if it were candy.
Then she pushed in and inches of stem disappeared into her mouth.
She pulled off with a loud sucking noise. She held the stem with one hand and jerked it slightly, while her other hand fondled his nuts. She rubbed the head across her face. She was breathing hard.
The sheriff said, in a thin, high-pitched voice, "You sure got a silver tongue, Moira. Feels stiff as a billy club."
"It's a luscious prick," the girl murmured, and again took it into her mouth, this time turning her head sideways and forcing down until the head must have been in her throat.
He said, "I'm ready to fuck, Moira. Let's get her clothes off."
Moira turned to Judy without letting the head of his penis escape her mouth. She spoke, moving her lips on the inflamed flesh.
"Judy, it's a wonderful prick. You'll love feeling it inside you."
She understood. Moira knew she would die if she had to suck it. Moira was making it easy for her.
But she screamed.
She screamed and they came with a rush, the sheriff swooping down on her and Harry Dome vaulting over the bed. She tried to scramble toward the bathroom but someone seized her hips and someone else the handcuffs chaining her wrists together. They lifted and hurled her onto the bed.
They stripped the dress up her body, over her head, up her arms to tangle about the handcuffs.
A man's hard-callused hands grabbed her knees, and fingernails dug in, prying her legs apart. Her screams stopped. Harry Dome's thumb and forefinger vised into her windpipe, just as he had done last night.
Then Moira spoke.
"Listen, she's not ready. She needs warming up."
Dome snarled, "Warming up? Shit, she needs breaking in, that's all. Maybe you had the right idea. Art, whop her ass until she pisses."
Moira cried, "No, not that way, I know how."
In her struggles Judy had scrunched her eyes shut. She opened them now and saw Moira beside her, crouched over, her pink-tipped breasts hanging out in elongated melon shapes. Her hands slipped up Judy's body, one on her ribcage, the other on her throat, advancing with a soft, caressing motion, stroking her flesh, all about her titties. Her auburn hair spilled down and moved like silk over her nipples. The feathery brushing stimulated them and Judy saw them grow upward and redden.
The sheriff. Art, still held her knees apart and, between her thighs, she saw his cock stabbing upward from a brownish ruff and, below, his long scrotum lifting and falling as he breathed. In the split of his prickhead, a white drop of seminal fluid emerged, overflowed and hung on a sticky white thread, flailing about when the eager phallus twitched. The sight made Judy gag, and the realization that he was staring into the spread of her legs at her hairy twat caused her vagina to pull inward, trying to shrink her split, close it up and present him with a crotch of solid flesh. His watery blue eyes bulged and his loose lips drooled. Her gaze fixed on the polished silver star pinned to his breast pocket. This was the sheriff, the law. holding her knees apart, his genitals outside his gaping fly. That was the ultimate cruelty, knowing that the law was going to fuck her.
Her arms, extended over her head, hurt from Harry Dome's pressing down on her handcuffed wrists. She almost welcomed the man as a distraction from the more subtle agony of lying naked, her dress tangled about her wrists and hands while Sheriff Preskin stared at her exposed pussy, his mouth twitching and his long prick visibly throbbing, lifting his scrotum through short pendulous arcs.
At first, Moira's caressing of her torso seemed distant, a soothing of a part of her flesh not quite attached to her suffering, unrelated to her attempt to suck her crotch inward and hide it from the sheriffs lewd gaze. Preskin's iron grip on her knees and Dome's weight crushing her handcuffed wrists were too massively brutal to allow other impressions. But she couldn't endure the crunching power of their hands. Her mind fled, leaving the pain for the moment hidden, and her thoughts reassembled where Moira's tongue flowed, circling her breasts.
Moira had told them, "She needs warming up. I know how."
Judy hadn't understood her meaning, but the girl had already saved her from a beating. She had to be trusted, despite having betrayed Judy's flight in the blue sedan. Her caresses were not warming. They soothed, bespoke a sisterly compassion, and yet teased cruelly by reminding her that a tender world existed outside the domain of these bestial men.
As she watched, Moira's slender fingers roved in smaller circles, brushing the mounds of her breasts, golden fingers vining silkily on the quivering titties, rising toward the points. Judy felt warmth now, a luxurious heat glowing from the girl's fingertips. It made her aureoles puff out to plump pink cushions bearing her nipples higher. Staring at the leaked mounds on her chest let her lose focus on the sheriff. His leering eyes and twitching cock became blurs.
Moira's index fingers arrived at her aureoles and wound gentle fire about them. They swelled out to cones. She had never seen the rubbery pink crowns so turgid, shiny with tautness, tapering into the thick nipple spikes. She understood what Moira had meant by warming her up. Her breasts bulged with heat rising almost painfully to the points. But she was in no way warm below the towering mammary peaks. Her vagina hurt from sucking in on its own dryness.
Her nipples now burned, but the pain was different from the others she felt. It was a hungry pain, like the emptiness in her stomach that she had learned hitchhiking in the rain. It wanted something, wanted it violently, but didn't know what it wanted.
Moira supplied the answer.
She was lowering. Her breath fanned the burning hillocks. The tips throbbed. The flow of the girl's moist breath was an unbearable tease, an ooze of warmth that only excited her swollen glands and made them more desperate for relief. Moira's red hair lay in a glowing auburn veil, half concealing the rise of the white orbs. But they seemed ever larger and more distinct in Judy's vision.
Then the girl's tongue snaked out of her lips.
Judy couldn't believe it, but a cool flick lashing a nipple made her arch up on the bed and groan loudly. The splash of saliva triggered an eruption in the tit-crown. It seemed to burst in a spasm that couldn't be locally contained, shooting in hot waves down her torso, through her belly to the very heart of her sex-organs.
For a moment she saw only Moira's red hair.
Then her mouth. Her lips were circled on a rigid nipple.
For some moments Judy lost all contact with reality. Her nipple was being sucked. She knew that and only that. It was bending, throbbing, rolling about lips like muscular jelly. A tongue laved the end of it. The nipple was stretching itself, forcing into the voluptuous suction.
The rest of her did not exist. The sheriff s voice broke into the limbo of ecstasy in which she swirled, disembodied, her being reduced to a long nipple in a girl's soft lips.
He was laughing. "Shit, man, look how her cunt is creaming! When Moira said she could warm her up, she was talking straight."
And Judy felt it, a hot drooling in her split.
But she managed to ignore the implications of it. Moira's lips had spread out on the aureole cone while her tongue curled daintily about the nipple throbbing in her mouth. The rubbery pink crown seemed larger than she could encompass but her mouth yawned and, at last, her lips pressed the white flesh faintly blued by milk veins, indented it while her mouth closed suckingly tight.
Judy was writhing with excitement. The girl held her tit in both hands, kneading it as she sucked. She made slurping noises, moaned softly as she drew off the flaming tip, gasped as she filled her mouth. Her whole kneeling form was rocking, levering her in each time she went down, drawing back as she suckered off the enormous red glistening spike. Moira's own breasts were swinging, swatting each other, and the ends were as fiery and extended as Judy's.
Then Moira shifted a hand to the other breast.
She pressed the two together and by bending the nipples got both in her mouth.
Judy couldn't suppress her moans of pleasure. The wet drawing on her nipples was unbearable. She had to admit that the double suction was pulling deep inside her, right down in the wet core of her cunt.
But a heavy man forced her hands into the mattress, and another gouged fingernails into her knees and panted, licking drool from his mouth, his eyes wild with lust.
Soon Judy realized that she could go through orgasm this way, without anything touching her pussy, simply this sweet girl sucking both of her titties at once. Ribbons of juicy fire kept racing from her nipples down to her vagina and there was a turmoil there, a taffy-like pulling of her organs, followed by a knotting up like it was all trying to gather into a wet explosion.
The sheriff chuckled, "She's ready, she sure is ready. Her cunt is opening up all red inside. There's slobber running right down to her asshole."
Moira drew off, licking from one saliva-wet nipple to the other.
"Not yet," she murmured. "I want to open her so you can slide it in like it's greased."
"You going to go down on her?"
On hearing this, Judy gasped. She knew what he meant. She had never dreamed of it really happening-
Moira answered his by swabbing the fiery nipples just once more with the flat of her tongue, then raising up.
She began to move. She crabbed about sideways to Judy, facing her lower body, then raised a leg across her and dropped her elbows, bracketing Judy's hips, and her hands vined under her thighs and clenched them.
Judy had scrunched her eyes shut. She tried to scream but she hadn't the strength to force the noise out of her throat.
She felt Moira's warm breath ooze into her gaping pussy.
Fingertips touched her twat-lips, stroking them. They opened wider, yes, swelled and drew apart and then Moira pinched hairs on each lip and tugged and a cool slipperiness lashed the length of Judy's split.
Once more, she lost contact with the world about her. A girl was licking her gash. She knew only that. The tongue was a horrifyingly limber and slick length. It lacked the blunt, hard threat of a cock. It couldn't harm her. But the voluptuousness of the caress plumbed the depths of her guilt. Nothing should be this glorious. Mankind was born to suffer, and here there was no pain-
But there was shame. When she absorbed the truth that a girl was lapping her cunt, she had to face her own evil response, the flutters of orgasm in her vagina, waves of lascivious pleasure sweeping out to her pussy-lips and enlarging them, rounding then to expose her even more to cunnilingus. The licking paused. A current of warm air played on the erect nubbin of her clit.
Then Moira's lips suckered fast.
With a shriek, Judy arched up and her hips jerked as she tried to fuck the girl's face. She was churning, squirting, spitting, and inside everything gathered into a blob about to discharge.
She opened her eyes, looked down her body between her tits to Moira's inverted face, her chin burrowing into tawny-brown pussy-hair, her lashing tongue visible for a moment, then gone as her lips again pressed the jellied flesh about that burning clit, and it was sucked in to ride the swabbing of that voluptuous tongue.
She saw Moira's breasts swaying about, wobbling, slapping together where they hung above her belly. The tips were engorged with blood, crimson against the snowy elongated tit-melons.
She looked up at the girl's crotch. The auburn lip-hair was dark with cunt-juice, in places bunched and dripping the glistening drool. The coral inner lips had spread and her clit looked enormous, jutting like a nipple but appearing so slick as to be gelatinous. The gash was very long and deep, widening immensely at the portals of her oval, the drooling rim of her hole. The hair was thinner there, a mere fringe in her ass-crack, a whorl about the winking pink button of her anus. All this was set between glowing white hemispheres, plump white buttocks that Judy could, strangely, imagine fingering with much pleasure.
The cunt just above her face began to turn pink as blood filled her eyes, as sweat broke out on her upper lip, as the heat of orgasm burned her cheeks and throat and at last her breasts, until they stood like pink hillocks capped with inflamed red cones.
She was beginning to cum on the tongue swabbing her split. Her hips were grinding. She pulled at the hands holding her wrists, pushed at the iron claws on her knees, arched up and quivered as the gates of her cunt opened and her gash undulated on the tongue lapping from clit to hole.
She told herself, A girl is lapping my cunt and it's making me cum.
But she couldn't accept the perversion. She would pretend it was something else.
Then the sheriff cried, "Out of the way, Moira, I'm going to fuck her."
And Judy heard herself begin to scream.
CHAPTER FOUR
She saw hands fling Moira aside, rolling her away across the bed.
Sheriff Preskin took Moira's place between Judy's upraised thighs, lunging in to mount her. He still wore his shirt and silver star but his pants were down, his horny cock and long scrotum in full view.
His end struck her split up high. It slid down the oiliness of her trough and wedged into her hole.
Dorne hadn't throttled her to stop her screaming. She kept at it, howling as the immense cockknob squeezed up her vagina, driven by a shaft as rigid as bone. She screamed but Dorne still didn't quiet her. Then she realized that there was no noise. The agony was inside, ripping her chest as the cock rammed up her hole.
The icy silver star touched her breast point.
Her vagina churned on the long unyielding member that skewered it. Her belly was out of control, racing in long, scalding surges back and forth on the sheriff s prick.
Or was he moving? His scrotum slapped her ass heavily. Then she understood that they were both at it, she humping to meet his thrusts, he plunging deep into her, drawing his cock right out of her clutching twat-lips and pausing for a split second before again reaming her to the belly button.
She was still cumming from Moira's cunt-lapping. But the cum had transferred to. his rigid meat, and her shameless vagina was squeezing it, wringing it, sucking at it, trying to draw the cum up from his balls.
His foul breath, laden with cigar and whiskey fumes, blew in her face and her stomach rebelled, trying to vomit, but the violence of her orgasm didn't abate. She could feel it in her asshole, in her exploding clit, everywhere between as her split yawned and sucked on the plunging intruder.
She didn't know how long it lasted. The voyage over mountains like steaming jelly seemed endless. Her hole was a cavern and his cock swelled and lengthened to match its dimensions, and his strokes had become so long that she waited, quivering, for each plunge up her squirting cunt. She was timed to his rhythm, her ass lifting, squashing her open pussy-lips on his pubes, then sucking, oh, sucking so hard, milking the tree trunk of a tool departing from her clutching vagina.
He yelled and raised up, bucking.
The spongy head of his cock now felt like iron, butting the depths of her cuntal pocket. He was shooting off, blasting holes in the jellied plateau of orgasm that she had been riding. The cock-spew squirting up her cunt didn't trigger her. It simply promised an end to this ecstasy that so nauseated her. It offered a way down, and she began to tremble, feeling her hole gush and wetness spill down her ass-crack.
He bored in, held it in all the way, pumping milk into her cuntal cave.
She tumbled from her delirious peak and began to retch.
He grunted, "I never been in a tight hole that was so wet."
She felt her still-gulping cunt spill fresh bodily fluids out of her lips and down her behind to the bed.
* * *
He had climbed off. Dorne released her hands. She crawled, writhed off the bed, fell on the floor and went on hands and knees, her hands still encumbered by the handcuffs and her dress, into the bathroom to the toilet.
She was vomiting.
But nothing came up. Dry heaves. Tearing her insides, her face alternately burning and icy.
She heard the man ask Moira, "You want to lick it clean?"
"Love to," Moira answered.
With that, Judy threw up.
Preskin had removed Judy's handcuffs. Then he and Dorne had left.
Judy was lying face down on the bed, sobbing, her uniform dress still bunched about her wrists. Moira sat beside her, smoking a cigarette.
She said, "Judy, they're a pair of shits but that's how it is. It's worse if you fight it."
"Would they really do what they said, tell my father?"
"They'd do worse. They'd take photos. How would you like to see blowups of yourself sucking a cock? They did that to me."
Judy raised up and looked through tears at the other girl. "You mean, you were like me, you didn't want to?"
"Not like you. I always loved fucking. But with guys I dug, not these shits. You got it worse. You have to try to like it, or you'll go crazy."
Judy bit her lip. "You saved me from a lot. I don't know how to thank you' Moira."
"Don't. For me it's not that bad."
"But what you did-to me-kissing and all-"
Moira smiled strangely.
Judy raised up, staring at her. "It must have disgusted you, didn't it? I mean, between my legs-"
Still smiling, Moira bent down and pressed her cheek to Judy's forehead and whispered, "Honey, I loved it."
Then her hand slid down Judy's back to the swells of her behind, and tenderly she caressed her plump ass-cheeks.
Biting her lip, studying the feel of the gentle stroking, Judy felt an odd tingling within her. Moira's hand was soapy soft, and it moved so knowingly, with exactly the right amount of pressure to please without becoming grabbily possessive, the way boys too often did it. Fingertips trailed lightly in her cleft. She twitched, her buttocks hardening and closing the crack. But the tremor passed and she lay still, rather enjoying the soft fingertips tracing the form of her rump.
Judy whispered, "But isn't it-perverted? I mean, girls together-"
"I like it better than men. Those two, anyhow." Then she sighed. "We have to get to work, honey. Or Dorne will beat our ass for loafing. Yeah, that's how it is." She paused and pressed a kiss to Judy's ear and whispered, "Would you like to go to bed with me tonight?"
Judy gasped. "Moira, I'm not-I mean-I'm not that kind!"
"You will be," the other said.
She got up and put on her dress.
Judy wondered about Moira's remark. There were many things she didn't understand. For instance, why had Moira betrayed her to Dorne, and then cushioned the brutality of the two men's lusts?
* * *
She tried to put it all from her mind by throwing herself into their work. Moira seemed equally intent on bustling through their labors.
At noon they were called to the restaurant to wait on tables. Judy had done this last summer in a determined effort to lessen her dependence on Father. She had only to learn the Seaview system of writing checks in order to function efficiently: Tips were pooled, the money spilled into a jar beside the cash register. She thought of keeping some cash for herself in case she managed to escape-but her dress had no pockets, nor did the frilly white apron they had given her. Without undies, she couldn't even tuck dollar bills into her bra or panties.
After an hour of serving she got her lunch break. She ate in the employees' dining room, eyeing the others, wondering how many Harry Dome held in servitude. What of the men? Would any of them help her?
A girl came in and said that Harry wanted to see her in his office.
She still hadn't eaten her dessert, but her stomach had roiled at the mention of his name. She pushed the food away but lingered, delaying until the smell of cooking made her nauseous. She set out for the office wing.
He was alone, behind his desk, lighting a fresh cigar. He signed for her to close the door.
She closed it and stood where she had the night before, against the wall.
He shuffled through a stack of papers on his desk, then said, "They tell me you're a good worker. Okay. Take an hour off. Go out to the pool and sunbathe or swim."
She frowned, suspicious of favors from him. "I haven't got a bathing suit," she said. "As you well know."
He picked up the phone on his desk, punched buttons on the stand, and said. "Harry here. Give a swimsuit to a girl I'm sending in." He hung up and told Judy, "Go to the beachwear boutique out in the lobby."
She said, "I'd rather go to the beach than the pool."
His eyes narrowed. A grin twisted his mouth. "All right. Go ahead."
"You aren't afraid I'll run away?"
"Where to? Sheriff Preskin's jail?" He grinned and tilted back in his chair, eyeing her tauntingly, cat and mouse, and she knew that if he caught her again trying to escape he would beat her, at the very least. She quailed before his glance. Fighting back tears, she turned to the door.
He said, "One more thing. We have a topless bar at the end of the motel. Tits like you got-well, it's easier work and pays better. Tomorrow night, Friday, we get a big play, people from all over the county as well as guests. I might start you then. If you behave."
The idea of exposing her breasts in a public place made her shiver.
He said, "The waitresses and bargirls are naked to the waist and don't wear much below. Not enough to hide bruises, anyway. And I don't want topless girls showing bruises all over. I mean, it doesn't look good. You dig?"
She got the threat, all right.
He added, 'Tonight, lock the door of your room so nobody bothers you."
Except him, with his master key, she thought. Her knees trembled at the thought of it. She hurried out of the office to escape the lewdness of his twisted grin.
* * *
At the beachwear boutique she fingered over the collection of bikini swimsuits, indifferent to a lavish display that a few days ago would have made her tingle with excitement. She felt dead inside. At last she chose a yellow bikini for its skimpiness, reacting now to Father, who would be shocked into fainting-and maybe his penis would be hard, too-if he saw it. The salesgirl said she could put it on in the dressing room. She did, and left her dress there. The yellow suit was indeed tiny, the bra covering little more than her breast crowns, and the crotch triangle too narrow. Pussy-hairs kept escaping. Well, she was dressing to spite Father because she felt too numb to react to anything here at Seaview, and she had to fall back on paternal resentment.
The sales girl made her sign for the suit. Judy wondered if the money would be taken out of her pay. Harry hadn't said.
She went out the lobby door into blinding sunshine and down the gravel drive toward the highway, across which she could see meager sand dunes and palm trees and patches of blue sea. The motel lawns were Kelly green, freshened by last night's downpour, but there was no other sign of the nightmare of icy rain she had endured. It no longer seemed real. A warm breeze fanned her body. She felt sweat in her armpits. Her mind rejected the storm and wouldn't dwell on the horrors Harry Dorne had inflicted on her. She thought, I'm just Judy Hallesham in a tiny yellow bikini, going to sit on a beach, for an hour just by myself, alone, untroubled.
Across the highway she untied the neck strings supporting her bra. This let her breasts wobble and she saw some men carrying a beach umbrella glance at her and grin, but they were outside her world. She was reacting to Father again, freeing her breasts from support to let them dip and bob. Behind, the bikini bottom had drawn into her crack and her buttocks swayed mostly bare, and she heard the men give wolf-whistles. She ignored them.
The hot sand of the dunes felt good on her feet. She crossed them to wave-packed sand, went to the water's edge and dipped a toe in. Cold. Too early in the season for swimming. She backed to warm sand and sat down arming her knees, dropping her head on them and shutting her eyes.
Suppose she approached the men who had wolf whistled, told them of her plight-
Suppose they were Harry's spies?
They had settled down a distance away under the beach umbrella and were dealing out cards on a blanket.
A boy and girl strolled past, arms laced about each other. She studied them. The girl was pretty, blonde, small breasted, with a tight little behind. The boy was gangly and the crotch of his swim trunks bulged before the thrust of his erection. Had he and the girl been necking? Or was he simply reacting to her nearness? The couple passed and Judy closed her eyes and pictured them. All she could visualize was the girl's bobbing breasts and her cute behind, and the boy's bulging prick.
Two girls passed and, mentally, Judy stripped them to bare tits and hairy cunts. Then a boy, following the girls, and his penis seemed a ropy red thing dancing limply about. In her distorted view it escaped the leg of his trunks and stiffened out to a foot of stabbing stiffness.
She pressed her eyes to her knees and armed her breasts, hugging herself and saying, "Don't do that, don't let it get to you, don't see everybody as cock and cunt, that's what Dome wants. His spies and the sheriffs threats to inform Father are only first steps. He wants to involve you in sex until you can't think of anything else, and then he'll have you."
She had cum when Preskin was fucking her but not because of him, because Moira had lapped her to the point of eruption. Maybe the next time his long red cock would drive her to orgasm without feminine help. The thought made her stomach roil but then, looking up as a shadow passed she saw a fat man, his paunch bulging over his trunks, and to her eye there were no trunks, simply a protruding shaft like Harry's.
She hid her eyes.
Her nipples had hardened under the clutching cups of her hands. She dropped one to her crotch and felt dampness. Her pussy-lips were soft.
Biting her lip with anxiety, she glanced about again. A boy was sitting a dozen feet away, glancing sideways at her. He was lean and had lank brown hair drooping over one eye, and his blue trunks were arched by the stiffness of his prick. Has he seen her feel her pussy? A blush burned her face. She looked away, thinking, I must run, flee, escape myself.
She pushed to her feet, strode trembling to the water's edge, turned right and headed northward. Ahead, the gleam of a sandy strip edged the sea for miles. In places it looked narrow, and shortly she saw that the width of sand before the motel was artificial, made by bulldozing brush and straggly pine trees and ragged-looking palm trees. Ahead, the packed sand was only a dozen yards wide. Between it and the highway was a tangle of nasty vegetation, thorny, shot through with ground-hugging palmettos that she had learned last night cut the flesh like knives.
She glanced back and saw the lanky boy following her.
He was grinning.
She quickened her pace. Where was she going? She walked a line between thorny scrub jungle and cold sea, toward more of the same. Barefoot, she couldn't make it to the highway, although it was close enough that she could hear cars roaring by. And if she got there? Hitchhike in a bikini that exposed most of her breasts? Pussy-hair had fringed out on both sides of the crotch triangle. And the boy following her, was he one of Harry's spies?
She came to a sandy path winding through the brush toward the highway. Panicked, she turned into it and broke into a run.
It ended after a dozen steps, walled in by needle-tipped palmetto and ground palm. She whirled, saw the boy at the sea's edge grinning at her. He turned onto the sandy strip, barring her exit.
Mustering her courage, she demanded, "Are you following me?"
"Sure." He grinned broadly. He had a lantern jaw and a bulbous nose and his ears stuck out. A homely boy, and skinny, a year or so older than she.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because your ass is bare except for that patch of yellow and it makes me horny."
He advanced a few steps. She backed, stepped on something thorny, yelped. She glanced swiftly over him, saw ropy muscles and guessed he was stronger than she, though not a bull like Harry Dorne.
He hung his thumbs in the waist of his trunks and rocked on his heels. He said, "You might as well be agreeable. I'm not about to leave you."
She studied his face, mentally dressed him in a T-shirt and cook's apron, and guessed she had seen him at noon in the back of the kitchen.
"Your name's Judy," he said.
That cinched it, he was Dome's spy.
He told her, "I'm Carl."
"You work in the motel kitchen?"
He nodded. "Right now. But Harry will get me something better. I do lots of special things for him. He's going to take me into the office, see. Motel business is a good career, I mean all you have to do is see how Harry makes out, lots of money and any twat he wants to fuck."
She cringed when he said that.
He unbuttoned a pocket in his trunks and drew out a pack of cigarettes and offered her one. She refused. He bit one from the pack and lit up.
He said, "You might's well sit down comfortable. I hate to wear my legs out chasing you."
She complied, dropped to the sand, arming her knees, realizing that the position better concealed her breasts and crotch from his probing gaze. He sat beside her. Without thinking she looked at his trunks, saw the tent in them, and before she could turn off her mind she visualized his upstanding prick.
He caught her glance. He said, "Yeah, it's hard. God, you make me feel horny! You sure are sexy."
"I am not! I don't feel it, anyhow."
"No? Well, you didn't fool Harry. He knows a sexy broad when he sees one. He don't waste time. He's told me, I take one look and I can tell if a cunt has a hot pussy or not. Some of 'em you have to train but when they're educated they want to fuck all the time."
His talk no longer offended Judy. She was becoming used to it. And she was still numbed by her experiences of last night and this morning.
She had begun to understand Harry's system. He was milking the motel greedily, and a boy like Carl would do his bidding in hopes of following him up the ladder. Then she remembered that Harry was only the manager.
She asked Carl, "Who owns the Seaview?"
"Mrs. Randolph."
"Who is she?"
He shrugged. "Some broad. Don't see her much, she has another motel down the coast. She's usually down there."
"Does she know how Harry runs this place?"
"Hell, I don't know. I only work in the kitchen. But I won't be there long, you belive me. Harry and me really get along." He had tossed away his cigarette and turned to stare at Judy's body. He dropped a hand to his erection and gripped it. "You ought to feel how stiff my dick is. It's really thumping. How about giving me a little, huh? Harry won't mind."
She shuddered and drew away from him.
He said, "I got a stiff one like a bone and I never heard any girl complain. Look!"
She gaped as he tugged at the leg hole of his trunks and a livid cockhead appeared. He jerked the material and it all sprang out, a shaft so rigid that it turned upward.
He gripped it, squeezed. "Christ, it's hard! I got to do something, fuck or jerk-off, one or the other."
A flush burned her face. She was still staring at the twitching prick, at the flared, spongy head, its split end swollen open, at the thick blue vein worming down the shank, at the evident turgidity of it, the skin so taut and red that it must hurt.
As she watched he kneaded the stem, then began a slow, voluptuous jerking-off movement.
He asked. "You ever see a guy jerk-off?"
Like a magnet, the stony cock held her gaze.
She shook her head, no. He pulled it and the head reared up. He grunted, gave it rapid jerks, his hand blurring.
He stopped and gasped, "Listen, Judy, this is no good, I just got to stick it into you. Harry won't mind. Come on."
"No!" she cried, and leaned forward to push to her feet but Carl's hand leaped out and clamped on her arm, dragging her down again. He wrenched her hand to it, against the burning shaft.
"Feel it!" he yelled. "See how fucking hard it is." He tore her fist open and forced her fingers to wrap around the spongy head. It seemed to sear her palm. She struggled frantically to escape but his grip was iron. She would have to play it smarter, she knew that, must calm herself and think-
She quit struggling.
The bulging knob throbbed in her hand. She felt each pulsing inside her, nasty quivers in her belly, churning her stomach but also doing something else-quivering in her vagina.
Suddenly he snatched at her bra.
She grabbed his hand and tried to tear it away. But his other hand went behind her and jerked loose the tie. The slim garment was whipped off her breasts. She managed to tear it from him. but her breasts had spilled free.
She burst into tears.
He gaped at her white tits and the red crowns, then at her eyes.
"Shit," he growled, "I don't want to rape you. Quit bawling. I'll just jerk off."
He returned to stroking the long stem of his prick.
She couldn't endure being there while he did it. But he wouldn't let her go, and she knew now that he could move with lightning speed when he had to. But suppose his pants were down?
Craft wrinkled her brow and she said, "I can't see it, your trunks hide everything but the end."
He nodded. He raised his ass and scooped his trunks down underneath, pried them over the extended cock, shoved them to his thighs. His prick rose like a pillar rooted in dark pubic hair. His scrotum hung down, balls on the sand until he began jerking again, and they flew up on each long tug at the rigid prick.
He was breathing hard.
Judy rose to her knees, saying, "Let me do it."
Amazed, he released his prong. She held her bra in one hand as she reached toward his genitals.
She didn't touch the livid cock but snatched at his trunks, hooked them with her fingers and jerked them down to his legs to his feet.
Then she jumped up and ran toward the sea.
She heard his scream of rage. She raced, fear driving her to an insane burst of speed.
She stepped on a palmetto spike, half hidden under the sand. It punctured her foot like the stab of a knife.
She shrieked, hopped, stumbled, and pitched down landing on her face.
She scrambled on hands and knees toward the damp sand. Hands clawed her hips, stripping her bikini bottom right down her thighs, baring her behind.
He fell on her, crushing her flat.
She struggled to her knees and Carl grabbed her buttocks, wrenching them apart and shoving his cockhead into her cunt-lips.
His bony prong drove the head up her vagina as though both organs were greased.
He laughed, "What a wet cunt! And wide open."
He rammed in until his loins flattened the cheeks of her ass, filling her with the hardest cock that had ever pierced her split.
She crouched there, weeping, being fucked like a dog.
CHAPTER FIVE
The beach sand burned her hands and knees but the sea wind blew sweat from her body and ruffled her hair, chasing it in a silken tangle about her face, a sun-shattered kaleidoscope of whirling colors and forms behind which she hid from her shame.
Her elastic bikini bottom was down to her knees, holding her legs together between his. Despite this closing he had found space to prong right up her hole, not even hurting her. his cockhead spreading the soft oily lips with ease and plumbing her vagina in an abrupt but smooth glide. The juicy openness of her cunt horrified her. She was crouching like a bitch dog, and her twat was a yawning red gash that seemed to want to be fucked.
She despaired. Seaview depravity had opened her hole to whatever prick stiffened in lust. She was being forced, raped, and yet there had been no pain when Carl speared up between her bound-together thighs into her split, not even discomfort.
She felt his pubic hair grind into her ass-cleft and he dug in. forcing deeper, shoving so hard that she had to brace herself to keep from being knocked down on her face. Her belly was full of cock, stretched by it. but there was no sense of being bruised or torn. Simply, the bony prong had skewered her runneling sheath and his loins flattened the nether lips of her vulva, yet the unpleasant part was the burn and rasping grittiness of sand on her knees and hands.
His fingers dug into her ass-cheeks. He drew back, slammed in again, and she grunted as she fought to keep from being knocked down. She knew now that the sand hid palmetto spikes and sharp sticks and knotty roots and the broken stumps of coarse dune grass, and she didn't want her tender breasts and belly to be crushed down on such a bed of spikes. Thus, she fought to maintain her obscene dog position, preferring it to a tearing of her underbody, certain that with the bikini bottom binding her legs together she couldn't-escape.
He was fucking in long, surging drives now, pausing with the throbbing head prodding the depths of her cuntal cavern, drawing out with a swishing sound that seemed to end with a faint sucking as his knob popped out of her twat.
Blinking at tears behind the sun-blazing tangle of her hair. Judy wondered why her split was open and drooling. She could only think that watching him jerk off his long prick had somehow stimulated evil, wanton, bestial urges within her. She couldn't admit that such depravity was a part of her being. She could only guess that this was a defense mechanism protecting the infinitely tender tissues of her cunt from harm by opening and lubricating the lips and internal sheath.
Her head hung and she gazed through the mistiness of tears and the fluttering tangles of hair at her breasts, hung out by her posture to longish melons lurching about like bells, the swollen crowns looking baby-pink and glossy and hurtable in the dazzling reflection from the sand. She saw her white belly broadly fringed by tawny hair and her thighs, like columns, together but not close enough to keep his scrotum from swinging through or his nuts slapping her pubic mound.
Silent except for grunts and wheezes, the kitchen boy was pumping her vigorously, and she could picture a dog mounting a bitch, rocking as his cock sawed in and out and his balls swung up underneath.
Yes, she was reduced to bitch being pronged on the beach,, hearing his loins splat against her spread ass, and the swishing and sucking of prick racing in cunt, and smelling the fresh sea air mixed with the pungent odor of her pussy. And she could see the wetness on his scrotum, her own vaginal juices streaming down it and being returned to her as his leathery ball-bag swatted her pubic mound and left the dewiness sparkling in the sunlight.
But the wet. was explained, a defense mechanism built into her body, and she needn't feel guilty about it.
If only he would shoot off his load! She prayed for it to end and. thinking she might quicken his ejaculation, she made a conscious effort to clench her vaginal sphincter muscle, to milk him out.
He responded with a groan.
Good, she thought. I'm getting him there. She did it again, scrunching in her whole ass and belly. She felt the muscle ring tighten and hold as he drew out, pulling squishily at his shaft.
He plunged in hard, deeper, his prick feeling longer now and the movement less regular.
She grinned with satisfaction. She cunt-sucked each thrust, and backed to meet his jabs. The bony cock began jerking frantically. She gritted her teeth and knotted up on it, heard the squishing louden as he sludged in and out of her twat. She couldn't hold it steadily, had to ease and then clench. She achieved a rhythm of her own, ignoring the rattling violence of his thrusts.
Her belly began to pulse and her face caught fire, a blaze that spread down her neck to her wildly lurching tits. The forced suction pulling him off was now taken over by the thumping pulse, bursting her into orgasm.
Panting, moaning, rocking on hands and knees, degraded to a bitch dog in heat, she somehow managed to ignore the boy fucking her, to wrench her body into a cum that was her own, like masturbation. She no longer minded the vaginal juices wetting her legs. She could see the glistening rivulets and take them as marks of her own achievement.
His balls flogged her pubic mound hard, and he yelled and she felt his cock-spew fly up her hole. She ignored it. She had made it with a cum of her own, an explosive out rush flaring her cunt and discharging his milks along with her new surges of lubricants.
As her vagina convulsed through orgasm she even forgot that this kitchen boy existed.
I'm cumming, she thought. Cumming hot, gushing.
For the moment, surging over her peak, she escaped the beach and the kitchen boy and the Seaview Motel, sliding off into a limbo of masturbatory ecstasy.
* * *
He had pulled out and sat on the sand with his throbbing cock standing in a rigid curve, creamy and clear fluids dripping down it.
Panting, Judy pulled up her bikini bottom and with trembling hands fitted her bra cups to her breasts.
He gasped, "That was a really good fuck. You know? I never stuck it into such a wet hole."
If he thought he was going to get anything from her but what he could force out, he was sadly mistaken.
She said, "It's a shame your cock isn't bigger."
He flushed to the roots of his hair. Then he gritted, "It's as big as any I've seen."
"How do you know how big others are? Do you pull other boys' pricks to make them hard?"
She tied her bra and with a great effort thrust to her feet. She felt terribly shaky, but she made it upright and turned from him and strode out of the sandy patch to the water's edge.
She heard his curse as he scrambled into his shorts and hurried after her.
She had put him down, a little. But when she arrived back at the motel beach and gazed across the low dunes at the motel itself, and thought of Harry Dome there, and his dozens of willing spies and helpers, of his backing by the sheriff, she despaired.
She blinked at tears as she trudged over the sand hills, crossed the highway to the graveled drive.
She got her uniform dress at the boutique and put it on over her bikini. At least she could wear it in place of undies, keep her breasts from leaping about, and cover her split, at least symbolically protecting it from jabbing cocks.
Unfortunately there was sand in the crotch band and soon it burned and scratched her gash.
But she put up with it as she went about her afternoon chores.
* * *
She was about to enter the employees' dining room for supper when Harry Dome appeared in the hall, resplendent in his maroon-and-white outfit. She thought of how vain he must be to dress up that way, but she forgot that when he beckoned. The sight of him now made her want to flee screaming, but she obeyed.
He seized her arm in a crunching grip and whispered, "I can see that goddam bikini under your dress. Get it off or I'll take it away from you and you won't be able to go to the beach."
She protested, "If I had my undies, if you'd give back the bra and panties you took-"
"Shut up. I want you naked under that dress, ready to fuck. I've been too easy on you. Should have let Sheriff Preskin beat your ass with his belt. Christ, I took you in out of the rain, dying of cold and hunger but you just won't go along with things the way they are. Get this straight. You can make a good thing out of working here or else do it the hard way-get the shit beaten out of you. Got it?"
His grip on her arm was paralyzing. She squirmed, whimpering, "You're hurting me."
He ignored her plea. "Another thing. I left that tube of Vaseline in your room. Tonight you grease up your cunt and be lying there with your legs apart when I come up to fuck you. Now get up to your room and take off that bathing suit."
He shoved her toward the upstairs stairway.
* * *
Late that evening she accepted the inevitable. She had been alone in her room since after supper, eyeing the tube of Vaseline on the dresser. It was large, not unlike a cock. At last her instinct for self-preservation came to the fore. She stripped naked, uncapped the tube, and dropped down on her bed on her back.
Spreading her legs she squeezed a blob of gooey stuff into her split, then fingered it about her lips to melt it to a slick, protective layer.
She wondered if Dome knew that the kitchen boy, Carl, had raped her on the beach.
Probably. Carl didn't look the type to keep it a secret. Maybe Dome had told him to.
Her bikini lay on the dresser. Having it to wear under her uniform dress-providing protection and some warmth-maybe she could slip out of the motel-the moon was out-
But the thought of the sheriffs highway-patrol cars made her cringe.
Massaging the Vaseline into her pussy, hearing the palm fronds outside rustle in the night breeze, alone, blessedly alone in her room, she gave up thoughts of escape and drew into herself. She fingered her clit. It swelled in response and she thought. Father, you can't stop me from twiddling my clitoris. I'll masturbate any time I want even though I was afraid to at home.
But his tyrannical prudishness no longer seemed to matter.
She recalled wrenching her cunt through orgasm on the beach, a solitary act while Carl fucked her. She had managed to ignore the rhythm of his thrusts. Could she do the same with Dome?
The moonlight brightened. She glimpsed the mirror on the wall. She scrunched about on the bed aiming her split at it. She could see her spread thighs glowing in the mirror, and the plumpness of her ass-cheeks, and the sprawled pubic hair looking dark and tangled and rather untidy in the way it bushed in an arc across her belly and down between her legs. She tweaked her clit and gently milked it, watched in the mirror as her lower cunt opened, ovaled, showing the red glistening of her gash and the dark pit of her vagina.
All alone. Masturbating however she chose. She passed a hand voluptuously across her breast caps, brushed them silkenly and watched the aureoles puff out to cones extending her thick nipples.
She curled a finger into her vagina and -rimmed the walls. It quivered excitedly. Having thus lubricated her finger, she drew her legs back further, exposing the pink knot of her anus to the mirror, and squeezed a finger into the sensitive little aperture.
A thrill shot up her ass.
She tweaked her nipples, each in turn, and thumbed her clit to protruding erection.
No, Father, you can't stop me from being a girl with big tits and a hairy twat, and I'll play with them all I want.
She was breathing hard. Her clit still grew, and on each pressure a little jolt of excitement leaped from it into her vagina.
She was cumming. She grinned at her mirror image as her hips began pitching and tossing into orgasm. She sank two fingers into her hole, wagged them, moaned with unashamed lust and whipped about on the bed. The mirror faded from her vision, replaced by a hot-pink glowing shape. like her cunt, as though her twat had consumed the glass and frame.
Then she heard a key scratch in the lock.
She snapped her legs down and together, thrust a cunt-juiced hand into her mouth to stifle a scream as the door opened.
Harry Dorne stood there, his black buckshot eyes like holes in his face.
"Come on in, Burt," he said.
He entered and behind him a man lurched against the doorjamb, then came with unsteady gait into the room. A rank smell of cigars and liquor preceded the two.
Judy shrank against the wall, clawing herself into a knot, stared with bulging eyes at the two men.
Dorne closed the door and said, "Burt, I figure on putting her to work in the topless bar. She's got the tits for it, huh?"
Burt moved toward Judy. He bumped into the dresser, lost his balance, and fell heavily into the armchair.
He laughed. "Shit, I'm drunk as a billy goat, Harry. But I can still get it up. I never been so drunk I couldn't fuck."
Harry Dome's cigar end blazed. He backed to the wall and said, "Go at it, Burt."
"Harry, I told you I'm down to five or ten bucks."
"You're credit's good, Burt. You're a regular customer. Anyhow, take one on the house. As township commissioner you've done us some good turns."
Judy couldn't quite realize that they were talking about her, as though she were a piece of meat, or the bitch dog Carl had made of her, incapable of understanding more than commands. The man, Burt, stared openly at her breasts and crotch, never at her face. She understood that Harry was pimping her; but it wasn't her, it was her flesh, the hole in her crotch, only that. Her fear was a razor blade spinning in her belly, the fear that they would detach her mind, her spirit, from her flesh.
She saw Burt paw at his pants. His zipper screeched. He dug it out, a limp, ropy length hanging over a finger.
He grunted, "It sure is limp, like worn out after seeing all those naked tits in the bar. It stood up too long, I guess. But I never saw a whore that couldn't get it up."
A whore. The word rang in Judy's ears. A whore.
"It needs blowing up," Harry said. "Judy, get over there and suck my friend's cock."
She stiffened back against the wall, trying to force herself through the hard plasterboard. Then Harry lunged toward her and she screamed, clawed at the hand that stabbed toward her throat, tore his sleeve. But the hand snapped shut, like a trap behind her neck, tangled into her hair and jerked her off the bed onto the floor.
His other hand gripped her throat. Strangling, she was dragged to the armchair, the floor skinning her knees.
Burt cried out in alarm, "Don't she like sucking?"
"She's got a virgin mouth. Your cock's the first one she ever ate."
"She might bite it-"
"She does, I'll kick her teeth down her throat."
CHAPTER SIX
Judy smelled piss and rank sweat, and felt the hot, soft cock against her cheek. Dome had released her throat but his hand knotted her hair, tightened, drawing her scalp, pulling even the skin on her forehead and cheeks.
Her stomach heaved and she tasted bile. She was going to vomit-
Burt reached down, scooped his scrotum out of his pants, then pressed his limp prick to her lips.
Her eyes streamed water as she fought down the surging of her stomach. She dared not puke. She had to suck. She had learned her lesson.
She choked, "Harry, you're hurting me."
He loosened his grip on her hair. "Open your fucking mouth and gobble it in."
The fat cockhead loomed before her vision. She had to, so Harry would stop tearing her hair out of her scalp. She lipped the repulsive blob of flesh. Tears ran down her cheeks. She had to fight to open her mouth. Her jaw refused to move. And the gurgling in her stomach was worse. She gagged on the vile taste in her throat. Compared to it, the man's prick seemed less bad. She gulped at it.
Suddenly the head was in her mouth. She munched it, still fighting her stomach, and trying to restrain the quivering in her jaw that threatened to transform her movements on the horrible cock into bites. She fought herself, and when her belly had subsided she felt Harry's grip loosen and finally he stood up looking down at her.
Burt grunted, "Come on, girl, grab my nuts. I like them played with."
She raised her hands between his legs and lifted his scrotum in her cupped palms. She squeezed them. She didn't mind this. She fingered the stem of his organ. That too was minor, nothing compared to feeling the spongy flesh in her mouth, smelling the stale sweat and urine, seeing the rubbery length hang out of her mouth.
"Come on, suck!" he snarled.
She sucked. She licked the slimy glans. And the thing grew, swelled in her mouth. The stem firmed under the pressure of her fingers. It became a bridge, arching from her lips to the black pubic hair fluffing out of his open fly.
She fisted it and jerked the hot meat.
He gave a groan of pleasure.
Her mouth was full of hardening cock now. She closed her eyes and made herself suck and lick. She shook his nuts about in her hand and jerked the stem.
He wrenched back, drawing the spongy blob from her lips.
"That's more like it," he said.
She gazed at the monstrous red arrowhead shape poised before her lips like the head of a snake about to plunge in. She slid her tongue out, swabbing the underside. The whole prick twitched.
She opened her mouth and leaned to it. The slope of the head pressed her teeth apart until she was yawning, and the now fully engorged cockhead pushed inside, her upper teeth beyond the rim of the corona. She clamped down on the shaft and suckered her lips fast.
She twirled her tongue around the swollen head.
"Agh!" Burt cried. "Now that's more like cocksucking! Go at it, baby."
She performed as she had to. She began running her squeezing fingers up and down the length of the shaft. She juggled his nuts. She force onto the bony cock, choking on the head as it filled her throat.
She tried not to think of the chance that he would shoot off in her mouth. She knew that if she vomited on him. Dome would beat her.
She bobbed now on the slippery prick, keeping the ridge of the head within her teeth, sucking sharply as she consumed it, blowing on it when the shaft rode out her lips.
Burt said, "She's learned fast, Harry. Shit, she'll be a hell-of-a-good cocksucker with a little experience."
"Let me try it. My prick's horned up like to jab a hole in my pants."
"Go on. get a whore of your own."
She glimpsed Harry tearing off his clothes. His cock flipped out into view, enormous, fat and long, twice as much prick as she was sucking, and for an insane split second she was excited. It was a feeling like the first time she had seen an erect penis, when she could have experienced normal lust for it, before she became turned off by Charley's cheating. During that split second she thought. It's a magnificent organ, a cunt-stretcher, but just the bony rod that will fuck me into a glorious orgasm.
For a split second. Then Dome was naked, stepping behind her, grabbing her hips.
Her scream of fear died on the cock in her mouth.
He spread her ass-cheeks and the blunt knob probed her Vaselined lips and then wedged in, shoving beyond that part she had lubricated but finding no resistance, no tightness or dryness, and she remembered masturbating and guessed that had prepared her.
It had to be that because she felt only repulsion for the prick twitching in her mouth.
She remembered Harry Dome saying that his end was sensitive and thus he couldn't jab hard. She was grateful for that. The effect was an oozing, gentle advance, a feeling of her cunt choking on too much fat cock until full, bloated, stretched. The tremendous organ was lodged in her belly. She felt helpless to either expel it or to do as she had with Carl, milk it out by squeezing her vaginal sphincter on it. It was simply there, and she, kneeling with her arms on Burt's thighs, hung impaled on Harry Dome's cock. She was sitting on it. The roughness of his pubic hair pressed into her asshole. She could take no more, but there was no more. Like the limb of a tree it had grown up her hole and rooted fast.
The cock in her mouth no longer mattered. She twirled her tongue about it and sucked and blew into the split end, but she was no longer there. The organ that had, for a second, seemed desirable when it sprang out of Harry's pants now dominated completely-a pole up her split, quivering and throbbing inside her. She seemed to sag back on it and when he grunted and dug deeper, a certain flowing in her belly enveloped it and fluttered silkily in spirals on the shaft.
She couldn't believe that this bestial man who had reduced her to a whore could feel good inside her. Yet she was backing against him and her ass had begun moving in a slow circling action about the axis of his enormously swollen penis. Maybe because he was behind and she couldn't see him; maybe because Burt's cock was so repulsive, and his liquor-laden sour breath almost making her vomit, and maybe because Carl had inured her to the idea of kneeling like a bitch dog and taking it up her hole from behind. Maybe it recalled memories of her feat in milking Carl out and at the same time masturbating herself into orgasm.
She squirmed back against him, meeting his shove. His loins squashed her pussy-lips flat and he dug in, stretching her vagina, and then his cock twitched. The twitch was powerful, a single pulse that seemed to double the size of the already bloated head, inflating it to the size of a baseball. Then he drew out, the spongy knob stretching her vagina all the way, and departed with a squishing pop. The noise humiliated her, for no Vaseline could oil a cunt to such condition. It was a slobbery, loose, completely elastic tube and she knew that the baseball growth of his cockhead could have been an illusion-the reality, a grotesque expansion of her cuntal pocket. This frightened her. Inner restraints had been punctured. The hidden mysteries of the depths of her cunt, responding to the tool of a man she hated, feared, and despised, were loathsome and, as marked by the drooling and gaping of her organ, made her flesh crawl.
The big cockhead again slid up her hole through flutterings and oily undulations. These responses sickened her but she couldn't deny the excitement she felt and, although she willed herself to remain immobile, to simply endure, she felt her body back up and her ass mash against him and squirm voluptuously.
Even worse, the feeling of sexual urgency transferred to her mouth. Her tongue curled about Burt's prick. The salty taste of his maleness and the rank smell caused her to gobble it, sucking her cheeks in to mold about the wide head and the bony shank. She frantically fingered his balls and wrenched her fist on the root of the man's prick. She felt no pleasure, merely roils of fire surging through her body from her engorged cunt to her mouth. The flames spread. She wore a network of burning threads, like metallic nylon from head to toe to fingertip-an electric grid, searing her entire form. She was moving all over, trembling and shivering, quaking, writhing, tossing about, every nerve torn and screaming as she flung into orgasm. She was cumming with a violence so terrible that her mind departed the agonizing struggle.
Burt howled and arched up, hips jerking as he fucked her mouth with a cock lengthening and rigidifying as her kneading of his balls sent cock-spew spurting into the root of his cock, where her jerking, wrenching fist drove it sizzling through his stem.
She knew he was going to shoot his load into her mouth but her thoughts were detached, indifferent, no longer responsible for the bestial actions of her body. Drink his cock-spew, her mind said, carelessly, and then his prick exploded and the splashes splattered the roof of her mouth and shot into her throat.
She gagged on the scorching globs of semen and yet swallowed them while pushing backward to fill her cunt with Dome's meat, to squirm on it, to feel the thousand seizures of her vagina on the towering staff.
She crashed over the peak of her cum with a mouthful of spurting cock, and for a moment even her detached mind faded into limbo.
She had flipped out of herself. She had no awareness of how long she was unconscious, only knew that eventually Burt's prick slipped out of her mouth, as clean as a whistle, every speck of white fluid licked and sucked off it.
The man rose from the armchair and stepped away. She fell against the seat, smelling again his stale body fluids, along with the pungent female odor of her drooling cunt.
Her hole was empty. Dome had moved from her.
Burt said, "That was a terrific blow-job. How much do you charge for her, Harry?"
"Like I said, this one is on the house."
"But suppose I come back tomorrow night?"
"We'll talk about it."
She saw Burt stuff his genitals back into his pants and zip up. "I need a drink. Let's go down to the bar."
"You go. I'll be down pretty soon."
Burt left and as the door closed, Judy turned and saw Harry Dome sitting on the edge of the bed, his cock still enormous, a dark, fat length standing tall before his white lower paunch. His scrotum hung down the side of the bed, long, weighted by his fat balls.
He said. "You're doing better, but girl, when I say 'fuck' I want action-get naked fast and grab cock. Another thing, you don't give Carl any more free tail."
"But he raped me!"
"Shit. That's not the story I got."
"He's lying."
"Shut up. Carl does lots of things for me. and I don't want to hear any cunt call him a liar. You're just a cunt, understand? I won't have any sassy cunts around here."
Then let me leave," she sobbed.
"If you go anywhere, it's to Sheriff Preskin. After his deputies have fucked you. he'll turn the jailbirds loose on you and you'll beg to come back to Seaview. Now come here. I didn't get my load off. Crawl over here and suck my cock."
Whimpering, she hesitated only a moment before going on hands and knees to him, facing the red-purple head of his organ, the bloated, flaring capon his awesomely wide and long prick. Sitting on her heels she reached tentatively to it and took the bony stem in her hands.
He said, "Upon your knees. Get your ass up."
She thought to ask why. But she bit her lip and obeyed, raising to dog position.
He reached behind himself and she saw his arm rise in a rapid arc and then the flash of leather leaping over her body toward her behind.
A stripe of fire ripped her buttocks.
She screamed out her pain. He seized the nape of her neck and shoved her face into his crotch, the hot shaft of his cock against her cheek, her mouth buried in his scrotum. She smelled her own cunt-juices and felt the stickiness of them on his stem.
"Why?" she whimpered.
"Because your old man didn't beat your ass enough. You're a sassy twat. Preskin was right, I got to beat you until you piss."
The belt struck again, scorching right down her ass-cleft.
She moaned into his leathery scrotum.
Again. He grunted as he swung the belt. The edge of it seemed to tear open her left ass-cheek.
"Please!" she cried. 'I'll be good. I'll suck it."
"Shut up!" He grunted each time he lashed her, and she heard the loud crack of the belt and felt an arc of agony rise up on her behind. He flailed crazily, stripes of pain crisscrossing all over her plump rear, eating into the flesh. It struck her thighs and sometimes the end curled up between them, slashing her twat-lips. "Until you piss!" he snarled.
She couldn't imagine that happening. But she was being beaten into jelly, her buttocks two bursting balloons of pain, the agony of it streaking into her belly.
Then, uncontrolled, in a flood, the piss spurted.
He laughed.
She heard it spatter on the floor and felt splashes wet her legs. She tried to stop but it hosed out. Her knees were awash in hot urine and still it splashed up between her legs.
"Now," he said. "Now do you want to suck my cock?"
She knew the answers now. "Yes," she choked. "Why?"
She rose, looked through tears at the bulging spread of inflamed prickhead and said, "Because you're the boss."
"All right. Lick it good."
Still kneeling in the pool of piss, she gripped the shank in both hands and braced her arms on his rocky thighs. She extended her tongue and moved in, raising the flat of it under his glans, swabbing it. Wetting the dried coating of cuntjuice made it slippery again and her tongue coiled slickly about the split tip. The taste of her own vaginal fluids didn't disgust her. She had been through too much. It made her task easier, lubricating the tremendous knob that filled her vision.
She lip-nibbled the end while licking the glans. She traced the flare with her tongue, edging the rim of the head. It glistened now with saliva and cunt-juice and she forced her mouth to it, spreading her lips, then yawning and feeling the rim in her teeth. They popped over to the smaller shank and she had the twitching head in her mouth.
"Suck that cock, baby!" he grunted.
It was nightmarish. She felt a last spit of piss trickle down her leg. She couldn't have lost control of her bladder. She couldn't have the man's fat cockhead in her mouth, or be kneading the stem with both hands. It had to be an evil dream.
Then Harry's prick enlarged and his shoves speeded and suddenly there it was, the big push, the twitching against her tongue.
The creamy stuff flooded her mouth. Despite her suction on the stem, it squirted out her lips. She was swallowing but it still came in thick globs. She squeezed his nuts and he raised up, jerking hard and letting fly more violently than ever.
She sucked and swallowed, polished it with her tongue. He drew back and, as the knob escaped her mouth, she licked up gobs of cock-spew that hung on her lips and chin.
Then she sagged, fell into his crotch and hung there, panting.
He patted her head as though she were a dog.
She felt grateful for the attention.
CHAPTER SEVEN
In the morning Judy rose in bright sunshine. After bathing, she turned her back to the bathroom mirror and looked over her shoulder at her behind. It was reddish and a few raised welts marked it. It was tender to the touch and when she pressed the Crosshatch marks, she felt a sudden urge to pee.
She squatted on the John, realizing that she was marked inside by Dome's brutality, the soreness of her big ass-cheeks triggering the impulse to urinate.
Otherwise, she felt dull with exhaustion. Her spirit seemed to have wound up in a protective knot and encapsulate itself against further harm. As pee sprinkled in the bowl she scheduled the morning. Breakfast. She was hungry. Then making beds, cleaning up, mind-numbing labor. If Dome entered a unit where she was working, she knew that she would do-lift her skirt and flop on the bed on her back with her legs apart.
Thinking of that made her bladder tube loosen, and piss hosed loudly into the bowl. Done, she tore off a sheet of tissue and wiped herself. She fingered her gash. It was moist. Yes, her body was protecting itself against whatever prick might be forced up her cunt.
She put on her dress and went to breakfast. Taking her tray to the serving counter, she saw Carl digging scrambled eggs from a pan. The boy met her gaze, then looked quickly away, blushing.
Harry Dome had said she wasn't to fuck with Carl. Doubtless he had told the boy.
She couldn't resist needling him and said, "If he wants you to follow me today. I'll call into the kitchen when I'm ready for the beach."
Scowling, he dumped scrambled eggs on a plate and slid it across her tray. She left, wagging her ass to taunt him. By the time she reached her table she felt remorseful over spiting him. Still, she had to take it out on somebody.
Moira arrived looking sleepy. Rubbing her eyes, she sat at Judy's table and muttered, "Party night. Too late."
But the redhead looked very pretty in spite of it, her cheeks blooming and her eyes bright.
She said, "I stopped by the control office. We're working together again. We have to really move this morning because people came for the weekend and every unit will be rented as soon as it's cleaned up."
"I hope nobody-disturbs us."
"Harry won't. Weekends are too busy."
It turned out that way. They breezed through their list of units in record time, working in tandem as though they had had years of practice together, stripping beds, rapidly sheeting them as though a single mind owned the pair of hands on each side of the mattress, then one vacuuming while the other gave the bathroom a quick cleaning out and scrubbing. They spoke little. Occasionally, Judy saw her friend smile secretly, and sometimes rub her pussy as though it were sore. She envied Moira the pleasure she got from sex, without understanding it. She knew what orgasm felt like but, because it was always mixed with shame, she could forever do without. Except for masturbation, and the way Moira had kissed her body yesterday-that had been pretty exciting and without fear, despite the fact that Dome and the sheriff were hovering over them.
At lunch she learned that they would have the afternoon off. Both she and Moira were to work at the Topless tonight.
She tried not to think of that. The notion of serving drinks bare-breasted no longer bothered her, but she guessed the place was simply a showplace where clients could decide which girls they wanted to fuck. She thought of Burt last night, and shuddered.
Moira suggested they go to the beach.
Judy was delighted. She wanted company and they could make Carl keep his distance.
They hurried upstairs to put on swimsuits. Judy was hanging her dress in the closet when Moira came in, stripping off her dress. In one hand she held scraps of green nylon, a bikini that looked even more reduced than Judy's own.
As Judy turned to get her suit, the other said, "Honey, your behind is red. Did that prick of a Harry-"
Judy nodded.
"That miserable son of a bitch! Someday I'll bite his cock." Tossing her dress away, she came and seized Judy's arms. "But honey, you didn't cooperate. You had to go along."
Judy sniffled.
"Baby, don't cry." Moira's soft arms vined about her and drew her close. Her nude breasts touched the other's, warm and quivering flesh molding together. Without feeling shame, Judy let herself be drawn into her friend's embrace. It was comforting. Moira whispered into her ear, "It'll be all right. You'll get used to it."
She felt the warmth of their bodies fitted to each other as pleasant, the pressure of breasts and bellies and thighs, all soft and smooth. Moira's pubic hair tickled her thigh. She pressed her cheek to the velvety one before her, and a sweet little thrill coursed down inside her.
The closet door was open, shielding them from view from the hall. Still, someone might peek in and she didn't want to be seen in the arms of another girl. The taboos with which she had grown up prohibited it, even though the only decent treatment, she had received had been from Moira, and she felt pleasantly relaxed and comfortable.
She pushed away, went and shut the door. "We have to get our suits on," she said, and was surprised to hear the thickness of her voice, choked up, and she blushed. Her bikini was on the dresser. Moira stood by it. The girl was breathing hard, her full breasts quivering on each breath, her red tit-crowns swollen and shiny. As Judy neared, Moira moved in and again their titties met and now she felt their nipples bore into softer flesh and saw Moira's face before her, wet lips open, begging for a kiss.
She gave it, willingly, despite the wall of taboo that loomed in her mind, a wall festooned with filthy cobwebs and crawling spiders scrambling about in cadence to the singsong of one of Father's sermons. He had never mentioned lesbianism, but pleasure he had scathed and hell-fired. He had ranted, while suffering more than she, because he couldn't avoid seeing his daughter's out thrusting tits, realizing the possibilities for pleasure that they evoked. Thus. Judy kissed Moira out of gratitude while fighting the vile images that crowded into her mind.
It proved different than she had imagined.
She felt a tender slickness roll about her lips. Not dainty, but a full-lipped warm caress and a sense of openness within the sealed joining of their mouths, a breathless, expectant moment that they shared. Then a tonguetip slid over hers and the suspense was past. The honeyed thrust rode the trough of her tongue and she curled hers about it.
There was no ugliness, just a lack of tension, a sweet sharing, as gentle as the way their breasts molded together and Moira's silky cunt-muff brushed her leg.
When their mouths at last parted, she was breathing hard and blushing, avoiding Moira's gaze.
She felt herself turned, moving toward the bed, Moira's satiny hip rubbing hers, a breast wobbling her way and jostling her tittie. They crawled on the bed and sat against the wall in each other's arms and she rubbed her cheek on the other girl's forehead, feeling exquisite relief at touching someone she didn't fear.
Moira's face turned up. Her tonguetip slipped into view. Smiling, she lowered and licked it. Their extended tongues dueled, slipping about each other, lashing, probing a lip, tracing the forms of teeth. Thus they played and she tasted the sweet moisture of their saliva, and breathed in the female scent of their bodies, sucked Moira's tongue and then laid love-bites on her velvety cheek and throat.
This escape from brutality and the horrid glimpses of the lewdness that lurked in her own body seemed too sweet to last. She glanced at the door, expecting Dome to burst in, whipping his belt off or unzipping his fly, or Sheriff Preskin, who had said he would return this morning but hadn't, making her quiver with fear that even now his star might wink in the doorway. Moira seemed unperturbed. Perhaps she was used to sneaking moments away from slavery. Her kisses were languorous, as though she had all day. Idly, she fingered Judy's nipple, teased it to erection, abandoned it to stroke her throat with the gentlest of soft fingertips.
Judy eventually flowed into the other's pacing. Her kisses too became idle, voluptuous, slipping a lip into her mouth and holding it to savor the luscious morsel, releasing it only to capture a playful tonguetip.
The thought of touching another girl's breasts brought back the wall of taboo crawling with spiders. But gazing down at Moira's lush white titties, at the big pink caps and tautly pegged nipples, she felt only a desire to return the caresses that had been bestowed upon her. She fingered the upper slopes, pressed the firmly resilient flesh, placed the flat of her hand on it and slowly circled the entire protruding melon-like mammary. She tested its weight and squeezed it. She brushed her palm over the rubbery crown, bent the nipple, tweaked it between thumb and forefinger, and tugged it out.
In doing this she felt no repulsion. She heard no echoes of Father's frustrated sermonizing about the sins of the flesh. Yet something restrained her, a fear of pleasure such as she felt even when masturbating. Indeed, it was like caressing her own titties, and she knew that Father's bleak Puritanism was still within her.
Then Moira whispered, "Honey, suck it. Please?"
Judy shuddered at the thought. She was holding a big, beautiful tit and she loved the feel of it, and the notion that her kneading it and toying with the nipple gave Moira pleasure made it a delightful act. But now the wall of taboo appeared, cobwebby and crawly.
"Please?" Moira repeated.
She couldn't refuse. Only Moira had treated her as a human being. She owed everything to the girl. She bent down and the breast loomed in her vision, a milky mound quivering on each movement, jerky quivers as the girl drew a deep, shuddering breath. She saw the faint blue shadows of veins feeding into the taut puff of the aureole, and gazed at the turgid nipple. At last she pressed her lips to the upper white swell.
It sank before her weight. It felt downy and Judy's nostrils flared at the odor of girl-flesh, a musk that abruptly excited her. She wet her lips and nibbled to the aureole. A tremor of fear made her pause as she edged the pink saucer-sized round.
"Please." Moira whimpered.
She tongued it. Rubbery. But her saliva slicked it and she toured the rim, licking and suckering kisses on it. Her circling movement narrowed, spiraling in toward the nipple. From this close the nipple towered, a proud pillar of grainy pink, flat on top where it was creased by milk apertures. She darted her tongue at it and the pillar bent. It snapped back. She wound her tongue about it, forcing it to bend again and turn through a complete circle, a leaning rubbery tower firmly anchored and yet seemingly separate from the aureole from which it had grown.
Cautiously, she lipped it. She was excited now and her imagination enlarged it to the size of a thumb. Holding it, she daintily licked the flat end.
Moira moaned and squirmed. "Ah, honey, that's good! More!"
Judy pressed down, licking it, expanding her lips, rolling them slickly on the aureole. And suddenly she felt desire. She wanted to suck it! She let her mouth yawn. She enclosed the entire vast disc of the aureole and drew it into her mouth.
Moira was panting loudly. She seized Judy's face and forced it in, flattening her tit, forcing her to push upward to clear her nostrils from the smothering soft flesh. She licked the flesh in her mouth and began pulling rhythmically, circling, drawing the whole tit, rolling about.
Her sucking sounded piggish. She flushed with shame. But she loved sucking tit! She closed her eyes to shut out all other impressions and wallowed in it, holding her breath and pushing her nose and eyes into the resilient flesh while retaining her succulent mouthful.
At last she had to come up for air. She suckered lingeringly off the nipple. It looked longer than ever, a slippery pillar quivering as she left it.
She felt Moira grasp her hand and lower it. press it into the airiness of her lower belly.
Startled, Judy looked down and saw the heel of her hand buried in fluffy mound hair and her fingers between Moira's outspread legs. Her first impulse was to jerk away in fright, but Moira was pressing her wrist, holding her hand down. She soon realized that there was no harm here, no danger, no threat, simply a pussy like her own.
She caressed the girl's mossy twat-lips.
"Honey," Moira breathed, "you're learning.
Umm-mm, that feels good. My clit, huh? Twiddle my clit?"
It was so little different from teasing her own cunt that Judy soon overcame her inhibitions. She pressed the auburn-haired outer lips. They opened, exposing the coral streak of Moira's slit and the trembling inner lips, pale wedges of flesh that looked jellied. She stroked them gently down to the oval of her hole, -rimmed it with her fingertip, then raised up the gash to the little clitoral bump.
She pressed it and saw Moira's hips begin jerking.
"Ah, baby!" the girl gasped. 'That's it. twiddle my clit, I'm getting so fucking hot!"
Then Moira's hands vined about her neck and applied pressure. Judy felt herself forced down, past the girl's bulbous tits, down her white belly toward the red sprawl of her belly hair, down to the hair-fringed split in her crotch.
"Lap me. honey!" Moira cried. "Please, lick my clit. I've got to have it. Oh. honey, go down on my cunt. Please, baby!"
Judy was near enough to smell the nostril-tingling odor of the girl's hot vaginal fluids.
The wall of taboo rose, spiders dashing insanely about, swinging on cobweb threads toward her.
She shrieked and tore away, covering her face with her hands. But her right hand was wet and smelled of cunt.
Moira clung to her. "Baby, you got to. Listen, it's delicious, I love lapping. I'll show you."
"No!"
But honey, it's better to do it to me for your first time. Tonight when you start at the Topless-sometimes it's not just fucking, but a guy and his wife that want to play triangle, maybe the wife never had her cunt lapped by a girl, and she wants to try it. You got to do it, honey. Try it with me and you'll learn to like pussy."
"No!"
"Look, I have to break you in. I have to. Do you think I want Harry to beat my ass the way he did yours?"
Slowly the message sank in.
Moira wasn't here as a girl friend. Harry Dome had told her to teach Judy lesbian ways.
She was speechless with horror. Betrayed! The Seaview was a monstrous training school for degeneracy and everyone was involved-Dome and Carl the kitchen boy and even Moira-
She was dumbstruck. In that moment Moira dove, plunging down between her legs and shoved her yawning mouth in and gobbled, hairy lips and all suckered and her tongue sliding up the vaginal entrance.
Her fingernails dug into Judy's thighs, holding her in place while a whipping tongue lashed the length of her slit and suction drew her clit out to a throbbing bulb.
She gazed down at the girl between her legs, at the nose buried in her tawny pubic muff, the head moving rhythmically as she sucked and licked.
Judy's cunt was on fire, but she retained her senses. She cried "Did Dome tell you to do this?"
Moira paused, gasped, and said, "He's the boss. Sure, he told me to but I love it, honey. I love eating your delicious cunt!"
Her tongue slid right up Judy's open hole.
Judy went wild. She wrenched away and flung off the bed, breaking from Moira's grip. She scrambled about, looking for clothes to cover her body. Her bikini, on the dresser, was handiest. She climbed into the elastic lower half, whipped the bra about her tits and plunged out of the room.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she raced down the stairs.
CHAPTER EIGHT
She was on the beach, flinging across the little sand dunes to the wave-packed flats. She had tied her bra top but as she ran a breast flopped out. She paused to tuck it back in. She was panting.
She gazed out at the blue expanse of water. Distant sailboats rolled before the wind. If she could swim out to the boats, beyond the reach of Sheriff Preskin's patrol cars-
The boats' hulls were hidden by the curve of the earth. Much too far.
She sat on the damp, hard sand at the water's edge and smeared from her face the last tears from Moira's betrayal.
The girl's supposed acts of kindness had been traps leading to instruction in lesbian arts.
She had to face facts. There was no escape. Everyone was hand in glove with Harry Dome.
She thought of Carl, the kitchen boy. Had she left without his seeing her?
She looked about the beach. Two girls sat on a multicolored beach blanket. One had a Seaview towel wrapped about her shoulders to keep off the sun. A client, or an employee? The girl moved, and beside her was a blue uniform dress. An employee. A spy?
Beyond the girls a fat man with dark glasses sat reading a book. Another spy?
Then she saw Carl in red swim trunks climbing over the dunes toward her. Skinny. Physically, he wasn't much of a threat. But she remembered his snake-swift movements when he raped her. Besides, his strength didn't matter. He had only to inform Harry Dome, who would contact Preskin and his radio cars.
Carl was scowling. What a homely boy, she thought, with his bulbous nose and lantern jaw. She gazed scornfully at him, buoyed by the possibility that Dome had told him not to touch her.
He said, "I hope you're going to stay awhile. I want to get a suntan."
He sat, awkward as a stork, beside her.
She didn't comment. She gazed at the sailboats on the horizon, thinking that even if one came close to shore Carl could probably out swim her.
He unbuttoned his shorts pocket and took out a cigarette and matches.
He said, "I guess you don't smoke at all?" When she didn't answer, he added, "Want one?"
"I hope you burn your finger lighting it."
He scowled. He tore out a match and scraped it. No light. Again. The match head came apart.
She grinned. His trunks were probably damp, had wetted the matches.
She said, "Dome told you to leave me alone, huh? Not to touch me?"
He glared at her, then said, "I got other girls."
"But not me. If I tell Dome you tried to rape me, he'll fire you, I bet. Or kick you across the room."
He snarled, "I follow you. That's my job. I get paid for it. That's all I care."
He was still trying to strike a damp match.
"Then start following," she said. She pushed upright, turned up the beach in the direction they had taken yesterday. She tested the water. It had warmed. She splashed along on the edge. Behind, she heard him curse at his matches. She saw a small scallop's shell underwater. She stooped and picked it up. It felt wonderfully smooth and was a lovely pink color. She walked, watching the shallows and the packed sand, and found more shells. She gathered a handful and for some moments forgot she was a Seaview prisoner under guard. The gangly boy behind seemed ineffectual. She collected shells, threw away chipped ones when she had better of the same species, and splashed in the water under a warm sun and enjoyed the gentle breeze fanning her body.
They were well beyond the motel beach, on the narrow strip of sand between the water and the tangle of thorny brush and palmettos and pine trees and straggly palms that shielded them from the highway. As the distance from Seaview increased, she gathered confidence in herself. She had the afternoon off and what every humiliations she might suffer tonight at the Topless seemed distant. The sunshine was glorious. If it became too much she would seek shelter under one of the pines. Her step lightened.
Carl said, "Your ass wobbles."
"So what?"
"You don't have to walk that way, wagging it."
"It's my ass. I'll walk as I please."
She was on the point of giggling.
He growled, "It makes me horny, dammit, the way one side bumps and the other sort of rolls-"
She decided to tease him. She reached behind and gathered the stretchy bikini material and squeezed it into her crack, baring her buttocks. There was nobody about to see. nobody but Carl. In fact, she could view almost a mile of beach ahead, sweeping out toward the sea, all of it crowded by the jungly brush and trees, and there was no one.
She carefully placed each step ahead of the other to make her ass roll.
"I can't stand it," he growled. "I'll walk beside you."
He appeared on her right. She saw that he had spoken the truth. His trunks stretched out as though a hammer handle protruded from his groin.
He eyed her breasts. "You ought to hitch up your neck strap, your tits wouldn't jiggle so much."
To spite him she rolled the cups down almost to her nipples.
She walked with a hip-wrenching swing that tossed her titties about, and she saw him turn red and bite his lip and try to look away. The erection lifting his red trunks twitched violently.
She gazed at the sea and the shoreline ahead. Seeing no one, she gave rein to the impishness rising within her. She hooked her fingers into her bra cups, gave a tug, and dropped the harness to dangle on her hips.
Her bare titties wobbled and swayed about, bobbed and lurched. The sea breeze fanned them and that felt good, and inside she was bursting with hilarity. Look at my boobs, Kitchen boy Carl! Free show. But don't touch the goodies or Papa Dome will spank. You're no more free than I, Mister Carl. Dome has you by the balls. You've sold out to his dirty money, probably his promise of girls to fuck, that too, and above all you can't touch me. You can't touch me!
"Bitch," he muttered.
Her dipping and bobbing titties flashed in the sunshine. It felt so good, being bare in the sea breeze, for the moment carefree and safe. Father would flip if he saw her, for one thing, and she murmured, "Look, Father, your big-titted daughter is showing it to the world. Look and get an eyeful. Admit for once that it makes you horny, that your shrieks of sin, sin, sin are cover-ups for your stiff cock."
She felt so good that she threw away her handful of shells and kneaded her titties, pulling the nipples to harden them. Carl watched that, groaning.
He said, "I got to do something. Jerk off."
"Why don't you try dipping it in the sea? That's supposed to shrink it down, isn't it? Cold water?"
He didn't answer. She continued onward. At last Carl said, "Look, I can't stand it any more. I have to get my load off. Come over in the bushes while I do it. Then I'll be all right and we can walk as far as you want."
"Why should I do you a favor?"
"I just have to, that's all."
"What can you do for me? Huh? What can you do?"
He bit his lip. She realized that she was torturing him. She couldn't resist the impulse to roll the front of her suit down, exposing a fringe of tawny pussy-hair. She thought. Maybe this is how it is when somebody takes away your rights, you look for somebody to beat up on. After Dome, Sheriff Preskin, the drunk called Burt, and Moira, to say nothing of Carl himself having raped her, she needed somebody she could torment.
He stared at her pubes. "Don't do that," he groaned.
She shoved the bikini bottom down another inch. She said, "Do you want me to take it off, so you can look at my pussy while you jerk off?"
He looked wounded, a cornered animal.
"Please," he said. "I'll do anything, if you'll stop and let me pull off my load. I can't do it walking."
She had no faith in his promises. But she had little to lose.
She said, "All right, pick the spot."
He turned to the brush, looked about, then beckoned to her and led her in past some thorny bushes to the shade of a pine tree where it had shaded out the undergrowth and the sand was blanketed by pine needles.
He stretched his trunks out over the protrusion of his hammer-handle cock and tore them down.
Seeing the extremely long and lean member, she blinked. The head looked enormous compared to the lean shank, and an angry red-purple. As he kicked out of the trunks his scrotum swung out across his thigh, terribly long and heavy with swollen nuts.
He laid his trunks on the pine needles and sat on them, legs apart, fisting the shank of his prick.
She remembered the feel of the boniness of it inside her when he fucked her dog-fashion. Maybe because he was so young-anyhow, it was much stiffer than Dome's or any she had encountered. Almost wooden. She remembered squeezing her sphincter on it to pull him off, and as a result getting an orgasm of her own. Oh, it had been a horror, debased that way, but she did feel quirky urges inside her. Because she could handle him? Because he dared not touch her?
He squeezed his cock shank, pulling it. His face reddened. He asked, "You going to take those pants things off, like you said?"
She shrugged. "I'm asking you again, what can you do for me?"
"I don't know. But honest, I might be able to-well, I don't know-"
Again she thought, What have I to lose? She shoved her bikini bottom down, taking the bra with them, and arranged the garment on the pine needles and sat on them facing him, her legs apart.
She fingered her pussy. The lips were soft and rather damp.
He asked, "You going to do it too?"
She almost laughed. It was silly, sitting there, boy and girl facing spraddle-legged, he fisting his cock and she probing the lips of her twat. But the dread shadow of Harry Dome stood between them. Harry in his flashy clothes, two-toned shoes, a balding, bulky, paunchy man and yet vain, and powerful enought to place them in this position.
She asked, "Do you want me to do it?"
Red-faced, avoiding her gaze, he nodded.
As he spoke, his words aroused echoes in her mind, an incident of long ago. Her cousin Lew had been visiting and she had come upon him in his bedroom pulling his dick. Horrified, she fled to her own room. Lew pursued her, and explained-as though she didn't know-that girls had a way of twiddling their slits. She had pretended ignorance. Lew said, "Do you want me to do it for you?"
She had escaped Lew and now realized she should have stayed. If she had had the experience she wouldn't be here now. This amounted to childish auto-excitation, a part of growing up. She was staring at Carl's prick, that big-knobbed hammer handle, as though she had never seen one before. In a way she hadn't, not in a moment like this when she wasn't so frightened that tears blinded her. In brilliant sunlight Carl's prong curved up out of his pubic ruff so stiffly that it seemed rooted in stone, a hard-on that must be painful. For once she felt compassion toward a male. She had done this. She had gathered the seat of her bikini into her cleft, exposing her buttocks, then had torn down her bra and let her titties dip and toss, flashing in the glaring light reflected from the sea.
He kneaded the root of the stem, then pulled upward, lifting his scrotum and forcing even more blood up to the head, a fiery knob with purple shadows and a milky drop oozing out the split.
She was staring at it, etching the form in her mind, as she should have Lew's, and she carried out her part of the bargain by raising her spread legs, cocking them up, and pressing the fork of her fingers into the moistness of her outer cuntlips, spreading them, revealing to his gaze the drooling coral of her split. She rolled her clit about to make it grow turgid and shiny, showing him her arousal. And she felt an oozing warmth spread from the clitoral nub into her belly and gather about her vagina, making it quirk squishily.
Carl groaned as he squeezed and pulled his rod. Then he shifted position, getting his feet under him and raising to a crouch to jerk off more freely. His hand moved rapidly, stretching the taut skin, pulling and pushing. His balls flew about, leaping up to rap his fist, tossed back to his ass, striking his thigh and careening about, each pendulous swing broken before it could complete the ellipse, resulting in an incoherent tossing and bouncing.
His face was agonized. She could see that it hurt, this. terrible struggle to get off his load while staring at her juicy split and swollen clitoris, at her stiff nipples and her eyes, narrowing to slits as heat welled up in her belly from her bursting clit and spread throughout her body. She regretted having excited him. It was a nasty trick when Harry Dome stood between them. Not just Harry, because Carl must know of the connection with Sheriff Preskin. Harry used the carrot of money and girls to lead Carl on, and the boy must know that there was a stick ready to be rammed up his ass, jailing by Preskin on trumped-up charges. She shouldn't have started it but Harry's pressure had forced her to beat up on somebody else.
Thus, her compassion was only partial. She also joyed in seeing Carl's neck strain, muscles drawn out like twanging ropes, as he pounded his meat and sent his nuts crashing about striking his thighs and fist and cock. Carl deserved it. He had raped her, thinking Dorne wanted it. So let him watch her twiddle her clit, see the vaginal slobber in the mouth of her hole. She slid two fingers in it, thumbing her clit, and the penetration further excited her seething organs.
Then something snapped inside her.
Her vision of Harry Dorne standing between them, sneering, rolling a cigar about in his mouth, immaculate in a blazer and creased slacks, always striped ones to make him look taller, two-tone shoes, the white part as spotless as new snow, solidified and became so real that her lips drew down in a snarl of hatred. She had to dispel the image of the bestial man who had enslaved Carl as well as her. She had to disobey him.
With sudden decision she thrust forward, on her knees, reached out and seized Carl's cock. His eyes bulged with amazement. She squeezed the bony stem and began jerking.
She felt his balls fly up against her hand, slapping it, and knew she was pulling hard enough. She kneaded it as she jerked and saw the purpling head rear up and the split open, like an animal wrenching about fighting mortal pain within. He choked, "But Harry said not to-"
"Fuck him!" she shrilled. 'Tear his fucking balls off!"
Never in her life had she spoken so. Her rage was a passion more violent than orgasm. The notion that the cockstem in her fist was Harry's fat neck made her jerk it even more viciously, and his balls slapped loudly wherever they struck.
"I can't take it!" Carl cried.
"Then cum! Shoot your load!"
"Judy, stop it. Harry would kill me-"
She paused, still gripping the rigid tool, struck immobile by his use of her name. He had called her Judy. Harry and Preskin and Burt had spoken before her as though she didn't exist, calling her simply "her." But Carl had said, "Judy." She existed. Harry considered her a whore but she was somebody, she was Judy.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Judy. She was Judy.
The boy's hands reached through the space between them as though Harry Dorne were no longer there. His fingers closed on her breasts and his palms shoved, weight behind them, pushing her over backward, down to the pine needles. As she fell on her back he came over her and she realized that her thighs were winged out and he was between them. Her thighs were apart and she couldn't will them to close him out.
The burning head of his cock lodged in the portals of her vagina.
It blocked the opening.
For a moment they panted, staring at each other, not moving. Looking down her body she saw the lean cockstem spearing from his dark pubic ruff down to her crotch. She could visualize the seating of it, the spongy head nuzzling her hole. Her tawny heap of pubic hair moved slowly as her belly quivered. It appeared dark, in his shadow, but the loaded scrotum hanging against his shank was pink from direct sunshine.
She knew they couldn't successfully lie to Harry. He would beat her for disobeying orders. Thus she whimpered, and tried to push Carl's shoulders and thrust him away. Her attempt died stillborn, for the head of his prick was sinking into her split, and she felt the bony shaft follow it, felt it good because her vagina was sucking in fast and even her outer lips seemed to hug the intruder and fringe it with a tight circle of cunthair. She stopped pushing because the deed was done, it was too late to stop. Inches of rigid manmeat had shoved up her hole.
Sobbing, she lay there on the pine needles, her legs akimbo, feeling the prong ride the contours of her vagina, welcomed by a mucky suction that she couldn't control. Her arms fell limp. She lay spread-eagled, panting as the last inch entered and his loins flattened her cunt-lips and his balls came to hang on her asshole.
"I tried," he groaned. "I don't know what to tell Harry."
Harry. She flinched. The name shot fear into her, and what might have become pleasure was an agony of fear. Carl began to pump and her organs quivered and began sucking and heaving to his rhythm, excited despite her cringing before the certainty that Harry would beat her again. Carl shuddered and rammed hard, lifted and fucked higher, mashing her clit on each stroke. She felt her hips rise, lifting her cunt to meet the thrusts. Tears streamed down her cheeks because she wasn't just being screwed, she was fucking too, hips pitching and vagina sucking greedily at the fat knob grooving up and down it, clutching his shank and squishing on it. He drew clear out and she felt air enter the steaminess of her inner twat as it yawned in expectation of another plunge of the glorious fat cockhead.
He stiffened, thumping far up her belly. He howled. "Now!"
She flapped and flagged like a hooked fish, struggling into a sizzling orgasm that instantly set even her fingertips on fire.
"Judy!" he cried. "I'm cumming!"
He had called her Judy, and Judy herself lived again-Judy who had run away in search of freedom, the Judy inside the crushing drabness of Father's edicts, who was proud of her big tits and glad she had a hot, wet hole. For an instant that complete Judy, lusting for life, lived, and longed to throw her arms and legs about this homely, skinny kitchen boy named Carl who had such a long, hard, wonderfully ramming cock, hug him to her and pitch and toss and bite his ear and whisper that she liked being fucked by him, that she wanted him to shoot his load up her hole because he had called her by name, making her a person again.
But she lay flaccid, shaking her way through a gushing cum, jellied, unable to seize the moment.
His scalding sex-juice spewed up her vagina.
She shrieked, arched against him and, bridged like that, felt the second and third splashes ride into her flooded cunt.
"What can I tell Harry?" he moaned.
With that it was over, her being divided into a vagina sucking and wrenching its way through orgasm and her shattered other self cringing at the thought of Harry's belt cutting her asscheeks.
* * *
They walked slowly back toward the Seaview. Judy had waded out into the sea and squatted to wash the sex-juices out of her cunt so they wouldn't stain her bikini. After the sun had dried her crotch they dressed and walked heavily along the sand strip between sea and brush jungle.
She asked him, "Do you know about Sheriff Preskin?"
He seemed to shudder. 'There was a guy named Dave, Harry screwed Dave's girl. Dave worked in the kitchen. He took a cleaver after Harry and Harry calmed him down and said it was all a mistake. Next thing Dave knew they had him in the cellar of the jail and the deputies worked him over, then let him escape. He left the state. They got him charged with robbing the motel. He wrote a letter telling us. His girl is still working at the Topless."
Judy saw the despair in his eyes. She said, "We can't tell Harry what happened."
"Suppose he had somebody spying on us?"
They had seen no one since leaving the motel beach. But the worst of it was, they didn't know. How many people were in Harry's pay? Everybody?
Nobody knew. Everybody thought everybody else was spying-
Carl couldn't help her. As she realized this, the slight bonds of trust between them evaporated. She was on her own.
CHAPTER NINE
In her room she found no sign of Moira. She removed her bikini and lay naked on the bed, legs apart, as though expecting Harry Dome to enter at any moment and shove his prick into her. She was resigned now. Moira had proved a traitor, and Carl was as enslaved as she.
She heard the rustling of the palm fronds outside the window, and thought of the beautiful beach, and what a wonderful place Seaview could be-
She fell asleep, awoke in the shadows of evening hearing the supper hour announced on the loudspeaker in the hall.
She guessed that Harry had been too busy, because it was Friday, to bother her.
She went downstairs and ate, alone, glimpsing Carl in the kitchen. Their gazes met. There was no nod of recognition, not a flick of the eye.
After dinner, Harry Dome sent word for her to come to his office.
There, he told her to shut the door. He was sitting behind his desk chewing on a cigar that had gone out. Tonight he wore a green jacket with brass buttons and green-striped pants.
He beckoned. She came behind the desk and stood facing him.
"Lift your skirt," he said.
She gathered it up to her waist. He eyed her hairy pussy, reached to it and fingered the lips.
"I want to see what you've been up to," he grunted. "If that Carl's been into you."
She knew there was no way he could tell by feeling her cunt. Rather, this was a way of humiliating her. He slipped a brown, manicured finger like a railroad spike up her hole.
He said, "Moira told me you wouldn't eat pussy. Shit, you got to learn. I know a couple rich broads that would get wet pants over you."
Then he unbuttoned his jacket. "See my belt?"
The belt was a web of chain links, brass.
He said, 'Those chains will leave pimples on your ass, a thousand red bumps-and the second time they get hit, they'll bleed. Got it?"
She shuddered.
He said, "Now you go over to the Topless and put on your outfit. Moira's there, she'll tell you what to do. If the manager, Sally, needs you to wait on tables, you do that. Otherwise you're a B-girl. But any guy who offers you a price, you tell him to wait until I get there."
She obeyed. She went out and down the corridor to the farthest wing of the building. In the dressing room of the Topless she found Moira putting on makeup before a mirror. She wore a gauzy, gold see-through skirt to her knees, and under it a G-string. That was all.
Moira said, "Honey, about this afternoon. Don't be mad. I had to do it. Besides, I dig you. Really I do."
Judy shrugged. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. She took off her dress and Moira showed her how to put on the G-string, a hand-sized gold triangle on her pussy, and elastics. The skirt was weightless, like a mist. They went out into the bar.
The place looked vast and dark, magenta lights concealed somewhere. Wall mirrors augmented the apparent size of the room. Judy saw half-naked girls moving about, the glitter of many glasses, heard a buzz of talk and quiet music from a three-piece combo playing on a platform in one corner.
A hundred pairs of eyes fixed on her naked breasts, and Moira's. She didn't care. Moira spoke to Sally, who was in charge. She sent them to the bar where two girls like themselves were half hidden by a crowd of men. Within the circle of horny guys, Judy did as she had been told, accepted a drink, listened to the talk; time stood still. The only important thing was her fear of Harry Dome's belt.
* * *
She had been there an hour or so when Dome arrived. He grasped her arm and drew her to him, whispering, "Mrs. Randolph, the owner, just arrived. She always looks the new girls over. Come on."
He took her to the far corner of the place. There at a round table sat several men and one woman, an incredibly sleek, elegant brunette with strange blue eyes, long and dusty-blue, the eyes of a blonde. But her face was bronzed and her sleek hair dark. She looked about twenty-five and was slim as a whip.
Her gaze slanted up to Judy. She smiled. Her mouth was large, her teeth white and even, her lower lip lush and flattening now as she turned on charm. Her gaze, seeming to miss Judy's bare breasts, entirely concentrated on her face.
Judy blushed. She felt flattered by the other's intense and yet friendly stare.
"Judy," the woman said in a husky voice. "Goodness but you're pretty. Please sit down. Help me feminize this boar's nest."
Shortly, Judy found herself seated beside the brunette. The drinks were distributed. She eyed the others. Three men, well dressed, close shaven, appeared the types a motel owner would associate with. One might be her lawyer, others perhaps suppliers of food or linens. The fourth was the motel night manager. Then Dorne arrived and sat in an empty chair and Judy's moment of being a pretty girl flatteringly invited to join an older group ended. She was a naked-titted whore now and her master pierced her with a glance of his buckshot eyes before turning to Mrs. Randolph.
"Where's Jackie?" he asked.
"He's gone to the John. Harry, where do you get such lovely girls? You must put Judy on here every night. She'll certainly draw business."
Judy wondered if Mrs. Randolph knew the truth, that the place was really a whorehouse.
Mrs. Randolph's brother, Jackie, arrived. She introduced him to Judy.
He was about Judy's own age, with black hair like curly silk, huge, lustrous dark eyes shadowed by long, inky lashes. His lips were shaped in a Cupid's bow, as red and pretty as a girl's.
He gazed broodingly at Judy, licked his lips delicately, and sat beside Mrs. Randolph.
Judy cringed. He looked pretty, soft, and evil. He kept staring at her and licking his lips.
She was glad when Dome sent her back to the bar.
* * *
An hour later Dome beckoned her to the dressing room.
He held led her out to the motel corridor, took an exit to the drive out back, circling the rear wings and the swimming pool. He entered a path across a lawn leading away from the motel toward plantings of ornamental shrubbery, out of the bright glow of the motel lights.
There he paused, unbuttoned his coat, and tore his chain belt out of the loops. It flashed, a brassy snake whipping as he turned to her.
"You going to behave?" he demanded.
Sobbing, her anguished gaze following the snaky belt, she nodded.
"You're a whore," he said. "You do what you're told."
She nodded quickly.
His eyes narrowed. "Without me you're a stupid cunt out in the rain freezing to death, without sense enough to get food in your gut. With me you're just a stupid whore, big tits and a hairy twat, and a mouth to suck cocks with. I'm what counts. When I say 'fuck' you spread your legs, and when I say 'piss', you squat. Now piss!" She gasped, "What?"
"I said, piss! Take down your pants and squat." He shook the belt and the brassy glitter of it shattered Judy's last composure. She dropped to her heels, lifting her G-string off her pussy.
As it had before, fear of his belt, and the memory of the beating that she had taken, opened her bladder and pee squirted out, gushed, fountained, hosed on the ground, spattering loudly.
His mouth twisted in a smile of satisfaction.
He said, "I had a dozen guys ask to fuck you tonight. Could have kept you on a mattress for hours at twenty bucks a screw. But I got bigger plans for you."
He drew the cigar from his mouth, breathed out a thin streamer of smoke.
Her pee had gone in a terrible gush but she remained squatting, afraid to move until he said to.
He grunted, "Now come on. Follow me."
She stood, arranged her clothes, avoided the pool of urine glistening in the grass, and started after him feeling more miserable than ever before. She was broken now. She peed when he commanded. Sometimes he would just take off his belt and she would pee her pants. She staggered after him to a path winding among the ornamental shrubs to a flat lawn on which stood a low, broad house. Lights showed through curtained picture windows.
At the door he whispered, "Whatever Mrs. Randolph says, you do, or tonight this belt will take the skin right off your ass."
He pressed the doorbell. Chimes rang inside. Shortly, the door opened, revealing the unhealthily pretty Jackie, who stared wet-eyed at Judy and licked his lips.
They went inside, turned from the hall to a huge living room where Mrs. Randolph sat on an L-shaped couch, legs crossed, her short skirt displaying long, sleek legs. She was sipping a drink. Her dress, Judy now saw, was of a blue that matched her eyes, a sheath hugging her curves, the front cut low on her breasts.
"Yes, do come in," she said. "Judy, sit down, darling. Harry, won't you have a drink?"
"I have to go back to the Topless, Mrs. Randolph."
"Of course. And I should know, you don't drink when things are so busy. Harry, it's so good to have a manager I can trust. At my other motel-you know of course that I have to spend too much time there, simply can't get a manager like you."
Dome smirked obsequiously and shortly left.
Judy sat on the wing of the couch at right angles to Mrs. Randolph. She noted the deep-pile white carpeting, the onyx cocktail table, the expensive furniture grouped about. Mrs. Randolph was rolling in dough.
Jackie dropped down beside the woman, curling a leg under him. Mrs. Randolph placed her hand on his and caressed it.
Then she said, "Jackie, get a drink for Judy. Coke, Judy? Or would you like a dry martini-"
Coke would be fine."
Jackie got up and left the room and, Mrs. Randolph, turning to Judy, said. "Darling, that uniform dress does nothing for your yummy figure. Wouldn't you like to take it off?"
It was a request, more than polite, but Judy could still see Dome's brassy link belt and knew it was an order the same as his telling her to piss.
She rose and stripped it off.
The woman said, 'That gold skirt is absurd. Would you take it off too? And the panties?"
She peeled them off and again sat, naked now and blushing, glancing at Mrs. Randolph for further instructions. Jackie came then bringing her Coke. He tongued his mouth and asked Mrs. Randolph, "Rina, can I get naked, too?"
His voice was thin, a whisper.
She smiled at him. "Of course, darling. Why don't we all? It'll be more companionable."
He had given Judy her drink. Thirsty, she gulped at the Coke. Swallowing, she thought there was a strange taste about it. Coke but with something added. Liquor? She sniffed it. There was no smell of booze.
Mrs. Randolph rose and took Jackie's hand. She drew him out to the hall from which he had brought the Coke.
Judy was bewildered. She thought Mrs. Randolph didn't treat Jackie like a brother. And he was queer, always licking his lips and staring hotly at her. And what about her husband? Was there a Mr. Randolph?
Feeling terribly edgy she drank her funny-tasting Coke and sat waiting, looking about the lavishly furnished room, thinking Mrs. Randolph must be worth a million, two million dollars.
Abruptly, the woman appeared. Judy caught her breath at the sheer beauty of her. She was evenly tanned all over, limber a a willow and moved with the grace of a cat. Even her dark-tipped breasts were brown, and there was no bathing-suit white about her curly black crotch hair, a tidy triangle fluffing thickly between her legs.
As she watched Mrs. Randolph-Rina, Jackie had called her-a strange thing happened. She seemed to slow her pace. The dip and toss of her small, high breasts became more fluid and the switch of her hips was a sluggish, oily roll. She raised a hand to preen her hair. The action was like the growth of a vine, a week's growing visible in the blink of an eye; yet the week's duration was also measurable.
Then Judy got an aftertaste of her Coke. That strange flavor! Had there been something else in the drink?
Mrs. Randolph's eyes were turquoise now, huge and slanty, and her nipples tinkling rubies, her crotch nest a dark, writhing mass, each hair weaving about like a tentacle.
Eventually, the woman reached her wing of the couch, sat down and picked up her drink.
Judy blurted. "Mrs., Randolph, was something in my Coke?"
Her own voice sounded like a whisper, a dragged-out series of syllables that didn't quite make sense.
The other said, "Jackie put in a few drops of happy-juice. It's lovely. I've almost quit liquor. Liquid hashish, a pint of it distilled from six hundred pounds of marijuana. Needless to say, it's very portable. An ounce does us for weeks."
While she was digesting this, Judy saw Jackie enter. She choked. Naked, he looked squat, plumpish. His body was hairless except for his black pubic ruff, out of which sprouted the darkest, greasiest-looking, thickest cock she had ever imagined. It was partially erect, a great loop ending in a swaying purple head, and fat balls crowded the space between his legs. But perhaps her vision was drug-clouded now and deceitful. His genitals might not be so revoltingly oversized.
He went over to his sister and bent over her, whispering in her ear.
Judy saw Rina Randolph reach up his leg and fondle the bulging head of his prick.
Then he came toward Judy.
Fear made her want to draw back, but her muscles wouldn't obey. She felt weighted down by the hashish, her gaze locked on his jostling cock and balls. They neared. His black ruff looked as big as a hat, and the swinging head of his prick was a blob of dark liver, his scrotum like thin old leather, black-haired, his nuts wobbling in and out of his crotch gap.
"I have a gift for you," he whispered, opening his hand and showing her a glitter of rhinestones. It hung out on a pudgy finger, a black velvet choker ridged with gems. He put it about her throat. She sat unmoving, hypnotized by the horrid genitals before her face. She heard a click, then a second click, and he moved away from her.
Out of his hand came a thin black ribbon, shiny leather, trailing him as he returned to Rina Randolph. Finally, Judy became aware that it was a very long dog leash, and it hung over her shoulder. She reached, traced it to the velvet choker about her neck, where it was firmly attached.
He gave the end of the leash to his sister and sat by her. Both of them smiled at Judy. Rina fingered her brother's prick.
She said, "Judy, darling, we have out little tastes, different from most people's, I suppose. But isn't everyone different? I love seeing Jackie enjoy himself. As his sister I have to limit my activities, you understand. Incest is a perversion, though I don't think it hurts anyone for me to fondle his cock, and he does enjoy it so."
Judy couldn't quite believe she was hearing this, or that she wore a velvet dog collar but now the leash rose, tightening, pulling her neck and she moved to obey.
She had half risen when Rina said. "No, darling. On your knees, so those lovely titties hang out. Jackie likes them that way. And your behind, he wants to see that lovely white ass from above. I'm sure you don't mind, do you?"
Saying nothing, Judy dropped to hands and knees in the soft pile and was glad it was soft, not hurting her hands and knees. She had to count such small favors now, the soft pile and the caressing velvet about her neck, for they were all she had. She felt her breasts swing as she moved and saw Jackie lick his lips. Rina was gripping his cock firmly and the head was turning upward, showing her the slimy glans under it.
The leash drew her to their feet.
Jackie whispered in his sister's ear.
Rina said, "Of course, darling, if you want it sucked I'm sure Judy will. Won't you, Judy darling?"
Between his legs, she rested her forearms on his thighs and levered in toward the fat loop of his cock. She felt no repugnance. She felt nothing. She had only to think of Dome's brassy belt and her bladder swelled with the urge to pee, and the velvet collar encircling her neck further reduced her to the level of a beast. The greasy cockhead had escaped the foreskin, leaving a red band between the ridge and the crinkles of skin not yet drawn taut. On it, she extended her tongue and with the flat of it swabbed the underside of the knob.
The whole loop of cock twitched and raised off her tongue. She pressed nearer and toured the rim, licking delicately, and tasting the salty juices without deriving either pleasure or disgust.
"I'm sure Judy is a very good cocksucker, darling. Here, let me help."
Judy saw the woman's brown hand cross his thigh and fist the looped member and thrust it at her mouth.
She opened her mouth and the spongy head slid in.
Slowly, she chomped it and traced her tongue on the sensitive tip. Jackie arched up on the couch, groaning. She grabbed his ball-sac and shook the bulging nuts in her hand. The cock had grown so long that there was room for another hand kneading it, and this she supplied, her pink hand and his sister's brown one wrenching the hardening organ as Judy sucked the head.
It still wasn't fully hard, yet the girth of the shank made her stretched jaw muscles ache. She dared not bite it. The collar about her neck forever warned against misbehavior. But she felt impulses to bite and harm the greasy pig of a boy. Thinking of Dome's belt, however, softened her mouth to a slobbery sucking organ as toothless as a cunt.
She was swirling her tongue about the head when he gasped and shoved and, despite the two hands on his shank, jabbed it to her throat.
She gagged, making a retching sound as she jerked back from the strangling thrust.
Rina scolded him. "Jackie, you mustn't try to fuck Judy's mouth! You must show consideration, even if she is a whore. Everyone has feelings, you should know that."
His prick was grossly enlarged now, and quite stiff, a huge shaft protruding from their fists.
Rina said, "Just for that I think you can wait awhile, Jackie. Wait, and watch."
Judy felt a tug on her collar. She obeyed the directioning of the movement, turning, across the boy's leg to where she found herself facing into the spread of Rina's thighs, gazing at her black-furred pussy.
Rina Randolph said, "Judy darling, would you like to lap my cunt?"
CHAPTER TEN
Judy gazed up the black leash stretching from her neck to Rina Randolph's hand. Her slender fingers were woven into the rolled leather, holding it as lightly as she might a fine china cup. She tugged gently. She was smiling, and her blue eyes were a composed, azure haze, not quite focused. Judy guessed she was high on the liquid hashish, that she had been high at the Topless. There was a negligent serenity in her manner and Judy felt some of it in herself. She had been asked politely to perform an unnatural act, but the shock soon faded. The same drug that had made vivid every visual impression now separated Rina into pieces, smiling eyes and ruby nipples and fluffy black crotch bush. No part seemed to threaten.
Thus, Judy felt detached, watching absently as Rina's fingertips brushed her nipples, arousing them to red spikes. They looked hard, and the aureoles grew to cones projecting them, the livid tips dominating the smallish globes of her breasts.
Then Rina began drawing her legs back. The slim brown legs parted exposing the thick furrows of her pussy-hair but no white crotch flesh. The furrows spread and Judy saw a thin red vertical line. The woman slouched, raised her heels to the edge of the couch. The glistening pink knot of her asshole was in view, fringed by black hair. Slowly the hairy outer lips of her twat swelled and ovaled revealing the wet coral of her slit and the darkness of her vaginal passage.
Rina whispered now, "You suck a cock beautifully, darling. Let's see if you do as well at cunnilingus."
The black leash tightened slightly. Judy obeyed the tug, leaning in between the upraised brown legs toward the hair-bracketed drooling red cunt. She smelled the hot musk of it and for a second her mind writhed with ugly crawling things but they reminded her of Dome's brassy chain belt and her bladder quirked in response and she had to dismiss all thoughts of disobedience. Rina was at least gentle. She had to do it. And the drug she had consumed in the Coke kept her broken into parts. The twat before her belonged to no one. It was an anonymous organ she was going to lick and then be done with it.
A thigh swayed against her cheek. It felt warm and soft, and satiny smooth. She rubbed her cheek on it. The feel was pleasant. She turned and kissed the sleek flesh, nibbled it, and moved along the curved surface toward the yawning vulva.
The smell was stronger. Her nostrils flared as she breathed it in. It was somehow exciting. She slid her hands in and thumbed the big lips, pressing them, widening the cuntal trough and abruptly revealing the upper part, the notch and the clit it protected. She paused, startled by the clit, which was much longer than her own and seemed to droop. Puzzled, she fingered over the wet lip-hair to the pink protrusion and slowly rubbed the slippery blob of flesh. It grew, stiffening as it did, at last standing out like a sleeker nipple. She bent it, released the turgid pseudo-nipple and it snapped out, jutting strongly from under the hood, which could no longer protect it. Nor would the crotch hair conceal it, as she found when she tried to brush the silky strands over it.
She gasped, "It's so big, long!"
Rina chuckled. "I suppose sucking has enlarged it. Darling, would you like to press your lips to it, and draw it into your mouth?"
Her quiet suggestion had the force of orders. Judy pushed in, her lips forming a small circle calculated to imprison the erect clitoris. But she had to experiment, and first she slid her tongue out and licked into the canyon-like gash and swabbed the long clit.
The taste startled her, salty and yet indefinable, like the smell of cunt-juice that now filled her nostrils and somehow made her heart pound. The feel was of exquisite tenderness, mucous-slick, the stiffness giving easily before her tongue. She circled it, swirled her tongue about touching the inner lips. She curled her tongue back into her mouth, washing the accumulation of juice about her palate. The taste was exciting and yet she couldn't say why.
She pressed in her lips now, rounded to clit size, and laid a light suction on the juicy protrusion.
It slid right into her mouth. Her nose pressed the hot, moist hood. She tugged, stretching the nubbin.
Rina's whole body writhed.
She moaned, "My God, Judy, you really are special!"
Rina's movement tugged the clit from her lips and it stood grossly enlarged, a pink tower tapering up out of the livid wet gash. Judy knew that her own had never been near this size. Indeed, the yawning pink inner lips were larger than her own, and as she licked their inner surfaces and the elusive clit she guessed everything was magnified in her vision because she was so close, her whole world consisting of Rina's vulva and the abundant hair cloaking it, out to the farthest horizons of her view. And the drug made every hair seem separate, tree trunks wavering as the cunt pulsed, forests shadowing the hills and vales of the drenched landscape at the joining of Rina's thighs. But drugs and closeness alone didn't account for the virile clit. Nature or years of cunnilingus had produced a gross appendage.
Tongue-washing it, she opened her mouth and clamped it on the upper vulva, hairy lips and all, and sucked it into her mouth. .
Rina gasped with pleasure. "Darling, you're eating me! Oh yes, eat my cunt, please, darling!"
Judy tugged, swung her head, sucked at the drool. She gazed up Rina's body and saw that she had abandoned the leash and was kneading her breasts, pulling her fingertips off the sharp nipples. Her mouth was open, panting. She squirmed and writhed, fisted her tits and pulled at them.
Then her right hand leaped from her breast, swung out to her side where Jackie sat. She seized her brother's purple-dark cock so fiercely that her knuckles showed white, then began a rapid jerk off motion.
Judy wondered if the woman ever did more for Jackie than handling his prick. The notion faded from her mind. She decided to go down lower, and now she yielded the rampant clit and suckered the trough, rubbing her nose on the big clit, kissing and licking as she neared the source of the pungent vaginal fluids. She could see only hair-edged wet redness. Then she found Rina's hole.
She traced the rim with her tongue. It was sloshy and soon her mouth was full of juice. She swallowed it and slid her tongue up the quivering hole. She let her mouth yawn to get in very close and wagged her entire out-thrust tongue in the runneling cavern.
Distantly, she heard their voices. Jackie said, "You'll make me cum."
Rina replied, panting, "You always-like me to-jerk you off."
"But we got a whore now. Let me shove it into her."
Rina tried to reply. Moans smothered her words. Her hips were pitching as Judy waved her tongue about the woman's vagina, licking the walls, shooting it up high, feeling her belly convulse and fresh spills of vaginal juices flooding her mouth.
Now Rina's heels pressed her shoulders. She braced, heaved, rapidly fucking Judy's thrusting tongue.
Jackie begged, "Please, sis, let me prong her."
"Jackie, wait-I'm cumming-oh, I'm dimming. CUMMING!" She released a groan that seemed to begin in the depths of her cunt, "All-HH! Oh, Judy, lap me good! OO-O-O! Darling, shoot your tongue up my hole, I'm cumming, cumming-"
Jackie said, "Let me bugger her. Up her ass-" Hearing that, Judy cringed, drew up into a knot, but her attention was wholly centered on licking and sucking Rina's big lips and deep fuckhole. Jackie didn't seem real. She couldn't even see him, for Rina's thigh had risen and barred her view.
"There," Rina sobbed. 'There, I've cum." Her voice fell to a feeble whisper, an echo, "Cum, I've cum."
Judy slowed her licking of the yawning cunt, letting her drift slowly down from the peak of orgasm.
* * *
She was crouched on the floor, panting, her head on Rina's thigh. The woman still held her brother's cock, squeezed occasionally, but seemed to lack the strength to jerk him off.
He said, "You know what I like best, to shove it up a whore's asshole. You know that, sis."
After a pause to recover her breath, Rina said, "It's probably too small for your cock, Jackie. You know that chafes you behind the head. And I don't want to hurt her asshole."
"Test her, will you?"
Rina sighed. "If you insist." She gave a tug at-Judy's leash. "Darling, stand up. your back to me."
She obeyed, she felt numb, utterly deprived of volition. She pushed to her feet, feeling quite rocky, and faced away from Rina.
"Darling, bend over, drawing your cheeks apart."
Judy grasped her ass-cheeks and bent down, spreading her buttocks.
She felt a fingertip press her anus. She flinched. A hand closed on her thigh, steadying her. The fingertip wriggled and penetrated.
Rina said, "She has a sweet, pink little asshole, Jackie. I don't blame you for wanting to cornhole her. But the sphincter is too tight. She'll have to have a treatment."
"I don't want to wait that long."
"You'll have to. Tomorrow nigh she'll be ready."
"But I'll be awful horny, waiting."
"Don't be silly. If you get horny I'll jerk you off and that's all there is to it. Now go find the insert and the tube of lanolin."
The finger remained up Judy's ass. It was annoying but didn't hurt. She heard Jackie go off to the other room.
Rina said. "I have to do a lot for him, poor boy. See. I can't trust him alone with a girl. He gets rough. For his sake I choke down my queasiness about fingering a girl's asshole. It seems lesbian to me, and I find that revolting, everything lesbian. Of course, when you lap my cunt it's different, just a way of releasing my tensions. And I know you enjoy it. All whores do. After just so much sucking and fucking they become disgusted with men's cocks and turn to cunts for pleasure. Isn't that so?"
Judy murmured agreement, knowing it was expected. She wondered if the woman knew Dome had forced her to whore, or if she was just assuming. She couldn't tell her. The mere thought of Dome made her shiver with fear and her bladder grabbed.
Jackie returned, carrying a bent tube and an object like a very long, oversized green plastic thimble to which elastic bands were attached.
The finger eased out of Judy's ass. Looking back she saw Rina insert her finger in the thimble-like gadget. The loops of elastic hung down her arm. Jackie opened the tube and squirted creamy goop on the thimble. Then Rina reached it into Judy's ass-cleft, pressed the plastic tip into her anus and began pushing.
The lanolin greased its passage and suddenly she had three inches of it up her asshole. Her sphincter grabbed it. Rina forced it in deeper.
"Breathe out," she said.
Judy expelled a shuddering breath. Somehow her asshole muscles expanded, easing the fit of the insert.
Then the two of them drew elastics down between her legs and around her waist, four of them joining in a snap on her belly.
Rina said, "Now straighten up, darling, and you'll find that it holds in quite well. Your sphincter will get tired of squeezing it and will open. By tomorrow night Jackie's prick will slide right up your ass, without discomfort. In fact, you'll love it. Please remove it only when you have to, or else he'll hurt you when he buggers you."
Her voice was so kind, reasonable, courteous, that Judy could hardly believe that she had just inserted the plastic gadget and was condemning her to keep it up her ass, spreading it, so that Jackie could bugger her tomorrow night.
She straightened. The gadget stabbed up her ass. She groaned. It hurt, stretching her with every movement. But she knew Jackie's cock was bigger and at least she had been spared his rending thrusts.
Rina Randolph said, "You'll have to content yourself with her cunt. You can fuck behind so it's almost like buggering, while she laps me again. Let's see if we can get a cum at the same time, almost as though you were fucking me."
Without being ordered, Judy assumed the position, kneeling on the floor, arms on Rina's thighs, gazing at her swampy crotch. Jackie grabbed her ass-cheeks and spread them, cutting the elastic into her belly and the sides of her pussylips. Then, with a thrust, he drove his meat up her slobbering hole.
She bit her lip. It had hurt. Too sudden. To forget it she bent down into the sticky hair mat before her, raised Rina's legs to her shoulders, and tongued into the yawning gash.
She felt Rina caress her head.
As Judy licked the jelly-soft inner cunt-lips she heard Rina say, "It's such a relief to come back to Seaview, to have my choice of whores. Judy, you're already my favorite. At the other motel sometimes I use a lesbian that hangs around there, but she's sickening, keeps implying I should change about, go down on her. Ugh! The thought makes me retch. All I want in sex is to be lapped occasionally, and to help Jackie be happy."
Judy couldn't fathom this strange woman. But she wasn't here to study people. She was here to lap cunt and be fucked. Jackie was ramming hard, on each shove driving the thimble-gadget further up her asshole. It hurt, but so did his cock, and she overcame the pain by squeezing her vagina on his plunging meat, driving her belly toward orgasm, as she had learned to do when Carl raped her.
Rina was already pitching and grinding her cunt at Judy's face.
Jackie was laughing in a high-pitched giggle.
Judy sucked Rina's long clit into her mouth and tongue-lashed it, tugged and pushed, driving her nose into the slobbery hood, her chin in the woman's hole. And as she did this her exertions in squeezing her belly in and stripping Jackie's tool began to bear fruit. She got a series of spasms that made her forget the pain up her ass and the friction of the driving cock. She knotted up, pulled hard, and she began to cum.
As she did, lowering now and panting into Rina's vagina, she heard Jackie yell that he was cumming. Her hips jerked and all pain vanished. She was tightly wringing that exploding cock, all the accumulated fire inside her steaming out her gurgling and burping fuck-hole.
Rina Randolph caught their frenzy. Bracing her feet on Judy's back, she began to whip, spilling cunt-juice until Judy had to swallow it or strangle. She shot her tongue up the convulsing vagina, felt it sucked.
Then she herself roared into a violent cum and she almost forgot the others, only dimly aware that Jackie's milks were squirting up her hole and Rina was shrieking into orgasm. She drove her fingers into the woman's buttocks, dug them in hard and clung to remain in place, for they were all three thrashing wildly about, and for the sake of her orgasm it seemed necessary to continue whipping her tongue up Rina's cunt.
She began to see strange colors roiling about in her vision, unworldly combinations of violet and green, white in twenty hues, black that had layered depths, each more satanically evil than the one before. This was the drug, she knew, and she saw that the colors were the substance of Rina's cunt-hair. She was gazing at a wilderness of hair colored by the inverted shadows of rainbows, and the giant clitoris was a barber pole striped not red and white but vermilion and-
The colors all blew up in her face.
Her fingernails dug Rina's ass-cheeks but she couldn't hold on.
She fell to the floor.
* * *
She was again sitting on the couch, aware of the discomfort of the plastic finger up her ass. On the other leg of the couch Rina sat with legs akimbo, fingering her clit, her other hand massaging the slimy ropiness of Jackie's cock.
Drowsily, she told Judy, "I'm exhausted. Go to your room now, not to the Topless. I don't want anybody fucking you while you're wearing the ass-stretcher. I'll phone Harry, tell him you're done for the night. I don't want people to know about our methods, darling."
Rina's clit still protruded. Yes, it was as long as one of her nipples but different, slimmer and not grainy, completely smooth and moist.
Rina murmured something to Jackie. He got up and left the room, returned taking money from a wallet. He gave Judy a twenty-dollar bill.
Rina said, "Harry doesn't like me to pay his whores but you're a sweet little hooker, Judy, and I insist on giving you a tip. Don't tell Harry, of course."
"I have to tell him," Judy said.
"I'm glad to hear that. I like to have everything under control. Give it to him to keep for you. Tell him I insisted."
Rina was still tweaking her clit. She glanced at Judy, then the dog leash, the end of which lay by her side. She wrapped her fist into it and tugged, saying, "Darling, give my clit one more suck while I unlock you collar. Then you can go."
Closing her hand on the twenty-dollar bill, Judy crawled across the rug to her and nuzzled into the steamy cunt.
She lipped the nipple-long clit and in a few quick sucks had Rina going again, moaning and humping at her face, wrenching herself through a quick little cum.
After that the woman dropped back on the couch, and told Judy to leave.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Judy ate breakfast squirming on the horny gadget up her ass, terribly uncomfortable but willing to bear it because Mrs. Randolph had assured her that unless it tired the clutch of her anal sphincter muscle, Jackie's cock would split her wide open.
She had finished eating when a girl came and said Dorne wanted her in his office.
She went there, closed the door on entering, saw him behind his desk chewing a cigar. She lifted her skirt without being told and showed him her twat, not caring if he saw the elastics that held the plastic finger up her ass. Maybe he knew about it already. No matter. She had brought the twenty-dollar bill. She laid it on his desk.
He pocketed the money, saying, "You're learning. Good thing, because she told me about the twenty." Then he pushed back his chair and rose, unbuttoning his coat. She saw the belt of brass links. He touched it and she felt the pressure in her bladder and spread her legs, beginning to squat so she could pee.
He growled, "Don't piss on my floor. In here." He went and opened a door between filing cases and showed her a toilet stall.
Judy went in lifting her skirt and sat on the toilet and let it go, urine hosing into the bowl. Harry Dorne crowded in on her.
"I did what they said to."
"You lapped her and Jackie fucked you?"
She nodded.
Did Mrs. Randolph go down on you?"
"No. she doesn't like it."
"Does Jackie fuck her?"
"I didn't see it."
"Do you think she'd like to lap you?" he asked.
"She said at her other motel there's a lesbian who always asks for turnabout, and that makes trouble because Mrs. Randolph isn't lesbian."
Dorne mused, "If you could get her to sixty-nine, then we'd have that bitch by the cunt-hair. I bet she fucks with Jackie, too. If we had a camera-"
He turned from her, deep in thought.
Judy rose from the John.
"Go on, get the hell out of here," he said.
* * *
Again she and Moira breezed through the cleaning of units and the making of beds. Moira asked about her evening with Mrs. Randolph and Jackie. Not trusting the girl at all, and in no mood to communicate anyway, she said, "Ask Dorne."
Moira persisted. "Who does what to who in Mrs. Randolph's league? Lots of girls have gone to her house but they keep everything secret, somehow."
"Ask Harry," Judy said. "He's the boss."
After lunch she put on her bikini. Fortunately, the lower part hid the elastics holding the plastic spike up her anus. She crossed the highway to the beach and sat on the packed sand at the water's edge, waiting for Carl to come on his surveillance mission.
Shortly, he appeared, gangly and awkward, homely and smelling of kitchen grease. He sat on the sand beside her.
She gazed at the sailboats on the horizon. A couple of days before she had thought of swimming out to them. That was past.
Carl said. "I went to Harry's office to ask if I should follow you. Sheriff Preskin was there, asking about you. Said he felt itchy. Harry said he couldn't have any because you were reserved for the boss. But I thought Harry was the boss. I don't get it."
"He meant the owner."
Carl stared at her. 'The owner? You mean Mrs. Randolph? Does she dig girls?"
"None of your business. Forget it." Judy rose and set off to the right of the narrow strip of sand where they had gone twice before. Carl hurried along behind. She wondered if he could see the thimble gadget in the seat of her bikini. She hoped not. She didn't want to talk about it, or about anything, just feel the warm sea breeze and splash a little in the froth of the surf. And hear the wind moan in the pine trees, and occasionally the rattle of palm fronds. Harry couldn't stop her from enjoying these things. They were hers. and she was all right and didn't even mind the plastic cone skewering her ass, in fact liked it because it was tiring her sphincter and when Jackie buggered her it would not hurt.
Carl said, "I'm not horny today."
She ignored the remark, concentrating on the way her feet squished into the wet sand and creamy foam hung in bracelets on her ankles.
He went on, "Because last night I fucked Sue, the girl in charge at the Topless. She likes young guys, see, says they're harder. I took some sandwich orders into the Topless and talked to her a minute and she asked if I'd be in my room after the place closed."
His voice merged with the sleepy tumble of the surf and the roar of cars whipping past on the highway, near but unseen.
"I fucked her three times," he said.
What Carl did mattered not at all. She was walking the beach, occasionally eyeing the triangle sails on the horizon.
"But Judy, I wished you were in my bed."
She thought. Why? Because I have bigger tits? Or a wetter cunt?
"Judy, I dig you. I mean, I really do and I didn't want to screw that girl Sue, just to get my nuts off because I didn't want to be horny this afternoon, just talk, sort of. Be friendly."
Back home if a boy said he dug her she would have reacted, turned on to him, maybe, but Carl had no power. If she liked him or not made no difference. Only the boss and the owner mattered.
He continued talking about it. His voice was empty, like the breeze, ineffectual.
What counted was the long thimble up her ass.
* * *
At the cocktail hour she went on duty at the Topless in her G-string and gold mesh skirt. In the dressing-room mirror she saw that her elastics and thimble were adequately concealed. She went, tits wobbling freely, to the barroom and checked in with Susie.
The girl said, "I don't know how you do it. Last night Carl kept talking about you. I never had a guy talk about another broad when I was in bed with him."
"You're welcome to him," Judy said, and then regretted it, not because the remark was impolitic but because he had been nice, warmly friendly, apart from his horniness.
Susie again put her to work as a B-girl.
At seven o'clock Mrs. Randolph entered.
She wore a shimmering gold dress molded to her sleek body. She sat alone at the big circular table in the far corner.
She went. Rina Randolph indicated that she sit by her, and kept her hand on the chair. Judy understood. She sat gingerly, feeling the other feel between her ass-cheeks to the anal thimble."
"Good," Rina whispered. "You'll be nice and open."
"Where's Jackie?"
"Home, watching TV, probably playing with his prick. He's terribly excited over tonight. So am I."
Under the table she patted Judy's thigh. Her hand remained there and Judy wondered if she liked caressing girls' thighs, if she had lied when she said she thought lesbianism repulsive-
Maybe she should tell Dome about this.
Then Rina said, "You must go now. I have some people coming on business. I'll be here an hour or so. When I leave, you go directly to my house."
But Judy's curiosity was aroused. Yes, Harry would want to know. The table concealed them below the waist. She reached to Rina Randolph's leg and slipped her hand under the woman's skirt.
Rina shivered, then said in a quavering voice, "Darling, not here, please!"
Judy stroked the satiny flesh of her inner thighs and Rina couldn't help but spread them. Higher, she felt the woman's crotch fur. No panties. She fingered the mossy lips of her twat.
Rina sighed deeply.
Then her fingers crossed Judy's thigh and slid down her pussy, and for a feverish moment she squeezed her lips.
She tore away, whispering hoarsely, "Go! Leave me!"
Judy returned to work.
Shortly, she saw two men sitting at Rina Randolph's table. They were showing her some papers, and what looked like a map. Business.
She went to Harry's office, sure that he would want to know that his suspicions about Rina had some basis in fact.
She learned that he had gone to town. She returned and waited tables for another hour, keeping an eye on Rina.
And she saw the woman gaze often at her. blue eyes narrowed and dark with heat.
Eventually Rina rose to leave.
She gazed meaningfully at Judy.
Judy went to the dressing room, took off her Topless costume and put on her uniform dress.
She felt her behind. The thimble was securely lodged. She fingered into it and wriggled. There was almost no discomfort now. She was used to it.
She set off for the house behind the motel.
CHAPTER TWELVE
She found the front door of Rina's house ajar. She pushed inside, closed it behind her, and went down the hall to the living room.
There, Jackie sat in an armchair, fully dressed except that his pants were open and his greasy dark cock stood fully erect.
He was grinning at her, wet-lipped.
Then Rina appeared in the other doorway to the living room. She was stark naked, stood with arms high, preening her hair and gazing with slanted eyes at Judy.
She smiled and said, "Darling, come in here. We'll get you ready for Jackie."
Judy followed Rina Randolph into a bedroom virtually walled with mirrors focused on a large bed on which was a green-striped spread that reminded her of Dome's pants. There she unzipped her dress and peeled it off over her head.
Rina unsnapped the elastics on her belly, unwound the apparatus and then slowly drew the plastic thimble out of her ass.
There was a sucking sound. And Judy felt her sphincter slowly draw in tight. It felt-tired.
Rina said, "Now lean over the bed, darling, and I'll test your asshole."Judy obeyed, spreading her legs and pressing her forearms on the bed. She felt Rina's finger press her anal button, then murmur, "Perhaps cunt-juice will do for a lubricant."
She dipped her ginters into Judy's slit. Judy squirmed as the other stirred her lips about.
Rina murmured, "Such a lovely cunt, nice fat hairy lips. I'd think Jackie would rather slip his cock into it."
And Judy thought. She wishes she were Jackie, maybe that's the secret, imagines she's him when he screws a girl, gets her kicks that way.
Then Rina's finger slipped into her anus.
The digit felt surprisingly small. She was stretched. The finger wriggled easily about.
"I'll need more cunt-juice," Rina whispered. Her voice was choked and Judy thought she could hear the loudness of the other girl's breathing.
She slid two fingers up Judy's vagina, probed, twirled them about, took her time at it, and her breathing now was clearly audible.
She whispered, "You're drooling, darling. So wet. It must feel wonderful to shove a cock into your slit. Just like this. And your ass-cheeks are so plump and white, just luscious. I couldn't blame a man for wanting to fuck you from behind. But here, I think I'll use the lanolin after all. It's really a better lubricant."
She slipped her fingers out and gave Judy's pussy-lips a squeeze before moving away. Shortly, she returned and a cold creaminess was smeared on Judy's anus, then inside, and two fingers were searching up her asshole, returning for goo, back in probing about.
There was no doubting it now. Rina liked what she was doing. When she finished, Judy straightened and glimpsed a blush on the other's cheek. She had placed the lanolin tube on a table and from it took the velvet dog collar studded with rhinestones.
Smiling, she reached the collar up to Judy's neck.
They were facing. Rina's nipples were spiked with excitement, and her aureoles puffed to form Hvid cones. Despite her deep tan, Judy could see that her cheeks and throat were flushed. She could only guess at the true origins of the woman's twisted lusts. Maybe she lived in a fantasy world in which seeing her brother bugger a girl was the same as doing it herself. Or possibly the whole thing gave her a chance to finger a girl's cunt and asshole without admitting to her lesbian streak.
She had to find out. If she brought Dome enough information, maybe he would gain confidence in her, and stop making her piss. For the thought of the brass-linked belt now ruled her life. The fear of a beating had put control of her bladder in his hands, and it was a hundred times worse than sucking cocks or being fucked. And being buggered was a minor thing, and so was the dog collar.
Rina's fingers trembled as she tried to lock the velvet collar in place. Her body was so close that Judy could feel the heat of it.
It was easy and seemed natural to slip her hands about Rina's waist and draw her close. pressing together their tits and bellies and hairy pubes.
Rina's eyes widened in surprise. She shot a glance over Judy's shoulder toward the door and Judy knew she didn't want Jackie to see this. Her blush deepened. Her breasts quivered as she breathed in choked fashion, lifted with the nipples indenting Judy's, forcing into the soft mammary flesh.
Rina took a deep breath and then whispered, "Darling, you're being affectionate. You needn't. It's not like that."
"Can't I hold you, just a minute?"
Rina stiffened in her arms. "You're just a whore I've hired."
"But you like me better than other whores."
Rina's eyes were wild, as though seeking escape, but her hot breasts and belly seemed to snuggle closer. Judy slipped her hands down the woman's ass-cheeks and dug in her fingers, drawing her closer, then squirming her pubic mound on Rina's.
"You must let me go!" she choked.
Her protest was a whimper. Her body was moving, writhing against Judy's. It was clear now. She loved it but was fighting it. Her eyes, so close to Judy's, were hazed with passion and she licked her fevered lips. It was time to kiss her, lick those rosy lips and suck the juices of her mouth until Rina was committed, until her responses revealed her hidden lesbianism.
But Jackie suddenly called out, "Aren't you ready yet?"
He was in the hall.
Rina tore frantically from Judy's arms and cried, "Come on in, darling." Judy's moment of discovery was past.
* * *
They made her kneel on the bed. In the multiple-mirror reflections she could see herself from behind, thighs apart and white ass-globes separated enough to reveal the pink pucker of her asshole, glistening with the lanolin Rina had applied. The aperture looked tiny compared with her tawny-haired pussy-lips below, opened when Rina searched for juice, and the livid wet cleft and gaping fuck-hole. But the anal knot was going to be the recipient of Jackie's big, greasy cock. Rina was squirting lanolin on the throbbing organ, then smearing it about with her fingers.
Impatient, Jackie moved into position and Judy saw the bulging head of his prick come near.
"Darling, wait," Rina said, "I must put it in. Restrain yourself."
She then pressed Judy's ass-globes apart, her hands still slippery with lubricant, and made a final check, fingering into the opening, and again her finger felt tiny, a caress rather than a penetration, and Judy felt confident that she could take the enormous knob. She had come to believe in Rina; there had been a night and a day of preparation for this moment, and both plug and socket were well greased. Besides, she was certain now that Rina liked fingering up her ass, no matter how much she disguised her lust by saying it was for Jackie's pleasure. This information would please Dorne, and maybe he wouldn't beat her again, and so being buggered didn't frighten her.
The finger departed. Spongy meat pressed her anus. The sphincter muscle jerked shut to keep him out. She took a deep breath and tried to relax it. He wedged in and the muscle seemed to retreat before the thrust.
Suddenly the knob was inside. Her sphincter closed on the smaller dimensions of his shank.
Yes, the head was in, the worst was past, and while she felt terribly full, stretched, the pain was small.
She saw Jackie's face in the mirror. His eyes, staring down at his cock and her ass, bulged, and his mouth was fixed in a grin, open so that spittle drooled down his chin. The unhealthiness of his face had become a maniacal grimace, evil, insane, and seeing it brought a terror such as Judy had only known through Dorne. Jackie was diseased, depraved to the point of just standing there with his knob up her ass gazing at the sight as though it were the most beautiful thing on earth.
His sister roamed about the exposed shank, caressing it, and her expression also was one of terrifying bliss.
"Deeper!" she whispered, then licked saliva from her lips, and her fingers forced him in. He hipped and the vicious prong drove up Judy's rectum. She gasped at the pain of it. Her sphincter tried to close but soon gave up and pulsed feebly on the iron stem skewering it. "Deeper!" Rina repeated and he forced in and Judy felt it squirm up her vitals. She bit her lip to contain a scream of pain, and then it was in, his loins flattening her buttocks.
He jogged inside her. His grin extended, a jack o' lantern grimace and his eyes bulged, and in an excess of emotion he trembled all over.
He hissed, "Sis! It's so hot and tight, just burning my cock!"
"Stay calm, darling," Rina murmured. "Remember, you can bugger her every night. This is only the first time. Now hold still. I have another treat in store for you."
Judy felt the woman rolling her pussy-lips and wondered what further degradation she had in mind. Rina parted them and daintily massaged her clit. Jackie couldn't see this. Was she sneaking a feel for her own pleasure? Her thumb and forefinger moved upward, pressing the plump cunt-lips outward, and then Judy felt a new pressure and understood as a blob was forced up her vagina, a wriggly, shapeless blob.
Jackie gave a screech of laughter. "Sis, you're poking my balls up her cunt!"
"Hold still now. Once they're in I can hold them there-"
Soon Judy's vagina was stuffed with balls and scrotum and Rina's knuckles held them in place.
He began rocking, the monstrous tool channeling her rectum and just under it her vagina full of testicles and their leathery sac. But Rina wasn't content with this. She began twiddling Judy's clit, and soon the delicate massaging of the erect nubbin brought fire to her entire middle body.
She moaned in pain and sobbed at the shameful lust that the various manipulations aroused. It was horrid but her pussy was hot and the cock up her ass had an effect a bit like fucking. She shut her eyes and suffered through, knowing that he couldn't long keep from shooting off in the tight grip of her after-hole. She counted seconds, then minutes while he shoved and pulled.
Then his nuts popped out of her vagina and Rina's finger ceased massaging her clit.
Rina scrambled onto the bed crying. "I'm so hot, darling, lap my cunt!"
She swiveled around, squirmed to Judy twat-first, legs up high, and Judy smelled rank vaginal drool as the woman's hairy-lipped red gash was shoved under her face.
She licked into steamy, jellied flesh.
Rina cried, "Ahhhh!" and flung her legs up on Judy's back. Her hips jerked as Judy caught the nipple-like slippery clit in her lips and sucked the slithering flesh. Jackie was reaming her strongly now and despite the lubrication it hurt. She turned her thoughts to the cunt spread open before her. This she could endure. She stretched the clit, let it pop from her lips and licked down the trough to the woman's drooling fuck-hole, and slid her tongue up it.
Rina arched, twanging like a guitar sting, screeching as she jerked into orgasm.
She was more aroused than Jackie, even though he had waited long for this, and his cock was being compressed, crushed, by the tightness of Judy's asshole.
Judy sucked the mossy cunt-lips into her mouth and shook her head, tongued the gaping hole, bit and ragged it all about and knew the satisfaction of sending Rina through a violent cum that seemed to be almost painful, the way she was thrashing about. Then Jackie began to buck.
"I'm getting my gun!" he yelped.
Something in Judy's mind blanked out. She was being buggered by a male gone wild, torn and stretched beyond endurance, and her mind couldn't bear the torture. The pain went away. She was simply an asshole being skewered again and again, her sphincter wilted to spare itself further agony, and she did not feel it, simply knew it was there.
She lapped Rina through her cum and started her on another, losing herself in a world of rosy, jellied flesh fringed by curly wet twat-hair. Eating cunt. No more than that. She felt the blast of sex-juice splash in her rectum. Another. Let him shoot his load. No matter. She was dead, numbed.
After a long time it ended.
She dried her tear-wet cheeks on Rina's mound hair.
Jackie's cock was shrinking inside her.
* * *
All three lay on the bed, apart, panting.
Rina said, "Judy darling, you'd better go clean up. I don't want the bedspread stained."
She climbed clumsily off the bed, staggered to her feet and moved toward the door. Then there was a jerk at her neck. She was still dog-collared and the end of the leash was wrapped about Rina's hand.
Rina gazed at her, said, 'There's gobs of cream oozing out your asshole. I'd better help you clean up."
She rose and guided Judy to an immense bathroom, tiled blue like Rina's eyes, with gold fixtures. And Judy thought. I can clean myself up but she wants to do it, and Dorne will need to know that Rina soaped a washcloth and had Judy bend over the washbasin. Then, gently, soothingly, she soaped her thighs and ass, searching out every drop of cum in her cleft and pussy, gently laving the hairy organ, lingering, and while one hand manipulated the washcloth the fingers of the other explored and caressed each swell and dimple of flesh. She was close, her breath fanning Judy's behind.
At last Judy said, "In front? Would you wash me in front?"
Rina choked, "But you can do that yourself."
Emboldened by the need to learn everything and tell Dome. Judy said, "Please? I'd rather you do it."
She straightened and turned around, saw Rina's face turn beet-red despite the brownness of her suntan, and her eyes murky with passion.
She told the woman, "Sit on the toilet seat, you won't have to bend over."
Rina was trembling. She obeyed, sat and began washing between Judy's spread legs. Her tongue lashed out at her lips. Again. She sucked them but Judy knew they were still dry, and saw the woman's breasts dip and bob as she panted.
Now, she thought.
She stepped closer and placed her hands gently alongside the other's sleek, dark head and drew her in toward her crotch.
Rina made a sound of protest, angry but plaintive, and Judy shot her hips forward shoving her open cunt into Rina's face.
"Judy! No! I'm not like you. I can't do that."
"Kiss it," Judy whispered. "Kiss my pussy, Rina, just kiss it once and then tell me you don't like it."
"I can't! You'll call me a lesbian!"
"No I won't. Just a kiss. Nobody will ever know. Just that much, so I don't feel like a whore, I don't want to be a whore, I want to be your lover. I want to lick your sweet cunt but not for money, because I love eating you. Don't you see?"
She raised on tiptoes, bowing her legs, pushed nearer and heard Rina pant and felt her breath wreathing about her gash and thighs and knew she was excited, smelling cunt and wanting it but fighting.
"You won't tell anybody? Even Jackie?"
"Never." Judy lied.
Rina dropped the washcloth and gripped Judy's thighs with both hands. Judy waited, expecting a tentative tongue-stab, a puckered kiss, or a last refusal.
But Rina went in, mouth yawning, gulping cuntlips into her mouth and shooting her tongue right up Judy's hole.
She gasped in surprise at the assault. Rina's tongue was everywhere. It lashed her clit, furrowed her cleft, -rimmed her vagina. Lips suckered her clit and drew it out so speedily that it burst into the first hot firing of orgasm. Never had Judy felt anything like this. Her cunt was being eaten, licked, sucked, chomped, and she heard piggish noises as Rina slurped. She was up underneath, grunting and mewling and whimpering with desire.
Judy felt her writhing vagina burst into cum, gushing, and her lover was drinking the juices, inserting her lips in the gaping hole and sucking at them. Judy shook from her shoulders to her feet. She clung to the head between her legs, held it or she would have fallen as her whole middle body burst into a roaring orgasm.
Then Jackie cried, "Hey, what you doing in the bathroom?"
Rina tore away, sobbing, seized a bath towel and buried her face in it. "I hate you!" she sobbed.
Judy slid a finger into her pussy to finish off the cum, rolling and compressing her clit as the hot fluids streamed down her fuck-hole.
She called to Jackie, "Well be right out."
She twitched and jerked through the last spasms, and she smiled, smiled broadly.
Wait until Harry Dorne heard about this!
* * *
Hours later she slept at last, on the bed in her barren room in the motel.
Her asshole burned. Jackie had buggered her a second time, then while resting up for a third go, had fallen asleep.
Rina hadn't again succumbed to temptation. She had avoided Judy's gaze.
Maybe she had never lapped before. Or, not in a long time. In either case she had suppressed her desires until she caved in and ate cunt voraciously, like a pig. There had been a wet stain on the toilet-seat lid, and Judy guessed that Rina had cum while lapping her.
Yes, her ass hurt but she felt satisfaction from learning the truth about Rina Randolph.
She was eager to tell Dorne.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
After breakfast. Dome called her into his office. She shut the door behind her and lifted her skirt.
He was sitting behind his desk, tasting a greenish cigar, licking a loose tab of tobacco, preparing to light it. He eyed her pussy.
She said, "Harry, if I tell you something really good, about Mrs. Randolph-would you please-not make me piss?"
He gazed vacantly at her. His mind seemed to be on other things. He took a lighter from his desk, whirred the striking wheel, and brought the flame to his cigar.
She had underestimated him, because he then unbuttoned his jacket and placed a hand on his brassy belt.
She felt her bladder press downward.
His eyes flashed. "Piss, you little bitch. Go in the John and piss!"
A few drops seeped out and sprinkled on her legs as she flung to the cabinet toilet and tore the door open and squatted on the seat.
It hosed out in a flood.
There was no use hoping, there was no way out, no matter what she did he wouldn't let up. He had to shame and debase her.
He came to her, jacket open, thumbing his belt, and her pee spurted frantically.
"Tell me," he growled.
She choked, "Mrs. Randolph lapped me."
For the first time she saw Harry Dorne grin.
He had thumbed at his zipper tab, about to open his fly. His hand fisted and he thumped the open door with glee.
"She did? She got down on your cunt? Ate it?"
"For just a couple of minutes. She was ashamed. But she was real excited."
Then she told him all of it, everything, about Rina guiding Jackie's cock into her asshole.
Her reward was that, in his excitement, Dorne didn't make her suck his cock.
He strode about the office, banging a fist into the palm of the other hand.
"A camera. Tonight. Photos of the owner eating cunt. Oh, shit, I've got her now. Okay, so she doesn't like my whorehouse setup, afraid of trouble. But she likes my whores lapping her cunt. Okay. Now she'll do what I want. She'll do it!"
Judy wiped her twat dry and flushed the toilet. Dorne didn't seem aware of her presence as she closed the door and stood waiting for orders. He still paced about banging his fist into his palm.
At last he saw her. "Goon, blow. Same schedule as yesterday. Go, buzz off."
He was laughing to himself when she departed.
* * *
Her asshole still burned but today she didn't have the long thimble buried in it. Maybe Rina Randolph had forgotten to insert it, or assumed that her anus would stay open.
She worked silently with Moira and in the afternoon put on her bikini and went to the kitchen and signaled to Carl. She had decided she might as well notify her spy that she was ready for the beach. Maybe because he could tell Dome that she was cooperating fully. Anyhow, he was company and she was now in the habit of being with him on the beach.
She strolled on their accustomed path between sea and brush, he behind.
He said. "Sue was mad at me last night."
She didn't comment.
"I screwed her and then she started asking what you got, and I said maybe I was in love with you."
He continued in that vein until Judy was annoyed, despite being touched. He was like a puppy wagging his tail, love dripping out of his eyes, but just a puppy, not anybody who could either help or protect her.
She listened. She collected seashells while Carl poured his heart out. He told her why he left home. His father was a loser, he said, fired from one job after another. Here at the Seaview, Carl had come to understand what his father lacked, what Dome had, ruthlessness. Dome wanted money. He got money. He dressed like a fashion plate and drove a big, new, air-conditioned car and had all the broads he wanted at his fingertips.
"Harry's going places," he said. "And I'm going with him."
She didn't scoff. She had gotten over wanting to hurt Carl. He was an impulsive kid, horny, casting about for a way to the top, but Harry was using him. She had learned her final lesson about Harry Dorne. She had brought him the news about Rina and he still made her piss. His grip was iron, and he would keep that grip on the wistfully hoping Carl, too.
Then Carl growled, "You don't believe in me. do you?"
"I don't think about such things. I obey Dorne. That's all."
"I'll prove it. You'll see. I finally kicked Sue out of bed, because if I can't have you it's nobody. Oh. I'll show you!"
She let him rant on until his voice merged with the gentle tumble of the waves, and she occupied herself with searching for even more perfect and pretty seashells, all of which she would throw away before returning.
* * *
The afternoon had passed, and she ate supper before dressing for the Topless. Her mood was placid. She hoped Jackie wouldn't bugger her tonight. Her ass still hurt. But she was no more repulsed by the thought of lapping Rina's cunt than she was lifted by Carl's declaration of love. Neither the obscene act nor his words could change anything.
After dinner, she went to her room to wash up and to pee. She squatted on the John and spread her pussy-lips, but nothing happened. Not a dribble. She thought of Harry's brass-linked belt and there was a pressure in her bladder, no more than that. Her body was waiting for his command.
She went down stairs, heading for the Topless. Her footsteps strayed to his office. She needed to pee. The door was ajar. He stood at a file cabinet, leafing through a sheaf of papers. Seeing her, he gestured for her to come in. She entered, shut the door, and lifted her skirt.
His gaze didn't focus on her. He replaced the papers in the file cabinet. He said, "It's all set. That mirror bedroom. At the foot of the bed away from the windows is a button under the rug. Step on it. The camera will snap a photo every half minute for ten minutes. The mirrors should catch everything. Make sure the lights are on."
"Harry," she said. "I want to pee."
He didn't seem to hear her. 'The sheriffs cameraman set it up. He guarantees the photos will show every hair. The most important thing is to get Mrs. Randolph lapping your cunt. I'd like to have one of Jackie buggering you, but that's less important."
She twitched the skirt held at her waist, hoping he would notice her naked pussy and recall her request to pee. But he was deep in thought, reaching his cigar to the ashtray, glancing down at the maroon jacket he wore and flicking his fingers at the lapel to dislodge a bit of ash. The jacket was beautifully tailored, emphasizing the breadth of his shoulders and his deep chest, diminishing his belly bulge. She tried to catch his gaze. She was afraid to ask again.
He said, "Turn around."
She turned.
He said, "Bend over the desk. I want to see what Jackie's been pronging into." Whimpering with fear, she obeyed. She reached back and drew her ass-cheeks apart. He pressed thumb and finger in, bracketing her asshole, forcing it to open.
He murmured, "Looks like he did a good job of stretching it."
She heard his zipper screech open. Tears filled her eyes. She bit her lip and braced her forearms on the desk.
He said, "I might as well shove into it. I feel worked up about the photo business, good idea to get my edge off."
And then he rammed his bone-cored fat cockhead up her ass.
Judy fought down a scream. The agony shot up to her brain and exploded. The head was inside, splitting her, and forcing up, an inch of stem in her and she began clawing the desktop to restrain the vocal cords vibrating with insane shrillness, silent because she had locked air inside her, locked in everything as the brutal cock wedged up her rectum.
Then the door opened.
She saw it because of the flash of white. The door opened only a foot and, in it, she saw a white cook's cap and a white shirt and white full-length kitchen apron.
And a face just as white.
Carl.
Harry Dome snarled, "You cocksucker, get out of here!" The door closed.
Dome shoved deeper into her, grunting, "I'll teach that fucking kid to come in without knocking!"
But Judy knew it hadn't been a blunder. Carl had followed her. He intentionally opened the door without knocking. His face blanched with fury, the kind of rage that could make a person vomit. His mouth gaped with shock, his eyes bulged, and he closed the door because he was too shaken to do other than obey Dome's command.
The poor boy, as helpless as she, bent over the desk with a huge bony cock tearing her rectum. Poor Carl, go away Carl, get out of here-
The door burst open, crashed against the wall.
Carl came in like a cyclone, wielding an enormous, long-handled frying pan, the kind that would fry a dozen eggs at once. He swung it with both hands, a black-bottomed iron object as big as the lid of a garbage can. He swept in, swinging it down at Dome's head.
Dome jerked out of her and reeled away. The frying pan descended in a black arc. She heard it thud but Dome was already falling, tripped by his pants, which hung at his knees. He crashed to the floor.
Judy was screaming.
But her voice made no sound. Nor did the others speak. Carl smashed the heavy pan down on the shoulder Dome had hunched up to protect his head. Judy heard the crunch, and his grunt of pain, then saw him roll on the floor and grab Carl's ankles and topple him.
As Carl fell, Judy came alive. She saw red. Dome's face was a red blob on the floor. His big hand fisted on the frying-pan handle, giant muscles contorting as he twisted it in Carl's two-handed grip. His other hand had caught the boy's ankle and was bending him away. Dorne flung about in a violent thrashing movement that hurled Carl against the wall.
Then Judy kicked.
She kicked Dome's face and heard him howl, kicked again and saw Carl break free and whack the frying pan down on the man's head.
Groaning, Dorne slumped flat on the floor and Carl, taking a new grip on his weapon, prepared to hit him again.
But Judy stood in the way. She stepped astride Dorne, acting without thought, blind fury making her tear up her skirt.
She pissed on the prostrate man.
The urine hissed out, hosed out, all over his immaculate maroon jacket, instantly darkening it in spreading splotches. She arched her back and slapped both hands into her pussy, spreading her hairy lips and watching the yellow stream lance out and fall spattering on his face, washing blood from a fresh cut on his cheek. She squeezed in on her cunt, directing the yellow stream to his eyes, his mouth, wetting his ears and his balding head.
He tried to raise, perhaps revived by the hot flood, but sank down again with a groan.
And then Judy was running.
The frying pan had crashed on the floor and Carl's two-handed grip fastened on her arm, swinging her away from the prostrate man and out the door.
* * *
They ran out a back exit, fleeing in panic, crazed by the enormity of their deeds, out to the back units and across the lawn toward Rina Randolph's house.
There, Carl said, "No hiding here. Come on."
He whirled her about and they circled the motel toward the highway. Judy didn't care where they ran to. They had to run. There was no escape but running was motion, action, and they ran like deer across the highway, making an onrushing car screech its brakes to avoid them, ran over the small dunes to the beach.
Carl turned right by habit, running in pale moonlight along the water's edge, following that narrow track of sand between sea and brush. Judy's heart pounded. Her breath rasped. But she ran until they came to the pocket in the brush shaded by the pine trees, where they had been one day.
He thrust her into the dark shade of the trees.
"I pissed on him," Judy sobbed. "I kicked him in the face and pissed on him, pissed without his order. Pissed, pissed-"
Carl slapped her face.
The hysteria left her. She was staring at Carl, in his white shirt and long kitchen apron. He had lost his cap. His eyes were calm. He was gripping her arms.
"All right now?" he asked. She nodded.
He spoke quietly. "He'll have the sheriffs patrol cars here in a hurry. They'll set up roadblocks. So the highway's out."
"We can walk-"
"No. That's just running to keep moving. Wait. Take our time and figure what's best to do."
Knowing there was nothing to do, she began trembling.
Carl drew her into his arms and instantly she felt better. He was in charge. Let him worry about it.
He whispered, "Judy, I love you."
She nuzzled closer. She didn't love Carl, but she felt good in his arms because he wasn't a helpless kitchen boy any longer. He had defied Harry Dorne, had knocked him down. Carl was somebody now.
The moonlight faded. Clouds. She could see well enough, the white shirt before her gaze, the gleaming sea off to the right, and to the left the flickers of passing headlights reflected in the brush.
Then a red flicker, very faint, following brighter headlights.
A highway-patrol car, slowing and wheeling into the gravel drive of the motel.
Sheriff Preskin had been alerted.
She could feel the pounding of Carl's heart.
They were trapped, had no place to go, but for the first time she wasn't alone. She had Carl.
And his cock was hardening, lifting against her belly.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She was clinging to Carl's shoulders, her breasts nuzzling his chest, her belly indented by his hardening prick. As it rose she thought of Carl clobbering Dome with the frying pan, and her pissing on him. They had acted in rage, on impulse, out of their own desires. Now her body was causing his penis to erect and Dome couldn't influence her actions. Nor could Father.
She and Carl were alone together.
Being at last in full charge of herself was frightening. But she had to learn, and she slid a hand down his chest, between their bodies to the horny prong.
She gripped the rigid shank.
She pressed her forehead to Carl's cheek and chinned his shoulder and squeezed her handful of cockstem at the root. The length of it extended up her arm. She massaged the thickness against his groin, pressed downward and felt the glans press her arm, almost to the bend.
She heard the quiet rumbling of the surf very distinctly, and the hissing tires of cars racing past.
Her every sense was alert. She smelled cooking grease on Carl's clothing. On his jaw a narrow strip of beard had been missed by the razor. A sea breeze moved her skirt. She smelled pungent pine sap. His prick arched up away from her arm. She followed, pressing to it. The pants material was loose, worn stuff, smooth.
Reacting only to the sensations, feeling them as sensitively as would the filed fingertips of a safecracker, she reached to his zipper tab and tore his fly open and felt the boy's hot cockhead glide out into her cupped palm. Her heart skipped a beat. The plushy knob was fiery and underneath a sticky droplet clung to her palm.
He choked, "Judy, Judy-"
"Wait. Don't move."
Acting out her instincts, she untied his apron and stripped it off and dropped his pants, gazing at the enormously long, upcurved tool sprouting from his dark pubic muff, and the long ball-sac dangling below, thin, delicate skin bottomed by thick nuts. She fingered the raised rim of the head, and down the sharp curve to the shank, along the thick blue vein on the rigid surface to the fluffy nest spreading from its roots. She scooped up his scrotum and measured his balls in her hand.
She whispered, "Carl, for the first time I really like a cock. I mean, just touching yours makes me feel good."
"Do you want to-"
"Fuck? Oh, not now. We have to do something, get out of here. But I do want you to fuck me. I don't love you, Carl, but I like you and I don't want anybody else to fuck me. Is that all right?"
He nodded.
She remained standing there in his arms, caressing his stony prick, feeling calm now.
She heard voices down the beach. She and Carl ducked down into a clump of bushes. They knelt. She still held his cock. The hardness of it, the strong pulsing reassured her.
The voices came nearer. They heard a man say, "Shit, you ain't going to find them if they're holed up in the brush. Better to stay in the patrol cars. They ain't about to leave the township."
"Well, Dome says they got to be somewhere around."
"He's flipped his lid, running around like crazy. Can't say I blame him, those bumps on his head and that cheek cut."
Their voices faded. They were returning toward the motel.
Judy shivered and pressed closer to Carl. Carl whispered, "Next thing, they'll bring dogs to trail us. I don't know what to do."
"Suppose we go inland?"
"It's all swampy. This is sort of a sand island here, the only really dry ground for a long ways. The highway has the only bridges across the swamp and you just know they got roadblocks there."
She was frowning. "So they built the motel here because it's dry-the only building around?"
"The only one I know about."
Suddenly it struck her. She shoved upright. "Carl, Mrs.' Randolph's house! That's it!"
"What about it?"
"The camera in her bedroom! Quick, pull up your pants."
"I don't get it."
"Come on, let's go!"
* * *
As cautious as deer, they peered out of the brush toward the highway, a distance north of the motel but they were able to see its lights and the cars gathered around the Topless. A car raced past. When darkness closed in, they scurried across and plunged into the pine woods on the other side, then began a careful circling of the motel.
Thorns and sticks tore their flesh and clothes but soon they were on Mrs. Randolph's lawn off to the side of the house, moving as stealthily as Indians toward her bedroom windows. Judy left Carl in the shrubbery and went to the front door.
She knocked, poised to spring away if Dorne happened to be there. But Rina Randolph, wrapped in a filmy blue negligee, opened the door.
When she saw Judy, a blush mottled her sun-browned cheeks and her gaze dodged away.
Judy slipped inside and shut the door.
Rina said, "You shouldn't have come here. Last night-I wasn't myself-what I did-I vomited afterwards-"
She seemed shaken by recalling lapping Judy's cunt.
Judy said, 'There's trouble at the motel, that's why I came."
"Yes, I know. Harry Dome has been in a fight. I saw him. I was at the Topless for a few minutes. There are police-sheriff's-cars around. Harry wouldn't tell me. What's happening?"
"I'll show you. In your bedroom."
Puzzled, Rina led the way to the mirrored room. Judy turned up the rug at the foot of the bed and found the pushbutton and camera wire. She followed it to the wall, up behind a dresser to a vase of flowers. The earners was perched on the stems, peering out below the blooms.
"I was supposed to press the button on the floor," Judy said.
Rina sagged down on the bed. "Blackmail!" Her face was ashen. "Harry knew I didn't like his whore stuff. He traded on my weakness. I couldn't resist-the girls he sent-"
She covered her face with her hands and sobbed bitterly.
Judy sat beside her, putting an arm about her shoulders. She felt strong, in command.
Rina cried, "How much you must hate me!"
Judy didn't, somehow. She felt sympathy. Rina had her weaknesses and had suffered from them. But she couldn't waste time on that.
She said, "Rina, he beat me. That's how he gets girls to whore, he and the sheriff. You have to break him. Or he'll get you."
Rina gritted her teeth, nodded, and rose. In the corner of the room was a phone. She picked up the receiver and dialed.
Shortly Judy heard, "Yes, George, I'm getting you out of bed and I don't give a damn. This is desperate. As my lawyer, you have power of attorney to act on my behalf, and I want you to fire Harry Dorne. Get Judge Allen out of bed and have him issue a warrant to evict Dorne from the premises instantly. And warn Allen that the sheriff is hand in glove with Dorne and I will file morals charges against him if he gets in the way. You better have the judge come with you."
There were sputtered protests.
She said, "George, either Dorne is fired or you are."
She hung up and turned to Judy, biting her lip.
Judy asked, "Will he do it?"
"Of course. He was my father's lawyer. This was my father's motel." She smiled crookedly. "I'm not a Mrs. Randolph. Miss Randolph. Maybe my father was overbearing. I guess he was. He crushed my interest in men, I think." She sat on the bed, distant from Judy. "I despise myself for what I've done to you."
"You mean, Jackie buggering me? Where is he, anyway?"
"Asleep." Again Rina hid her face in her hands. "I feel so terrible. When I drink that liquid hash I don't have to face the truth, why I get girls for Jackie, why I've made a beast of him. He's all right. I've just spoiled him rotten. Because I'm sick, and I won't admit it."
Judy moved closer and took her hand. "Rina, it's better to quit hiding."
"But Judy, I forced you to-lap me-to debase you, make myself feel superior-"
Judy was gazing at the other's lovely body. The gauzy negligee emphasized her breasts more than it concealed them. She felt a warm glow inside her as her glance swept the curves and dimples of Rina's form. The glow was both tender and lustful, far from what she felt toward Carl, good in its own way.
She saw Rina clearly, not as a fearful object created by Harry Dome but as a lovely woman, desirable. Rina's unhappiness taught her one thing. She couldn't hide as Rina had.
Oh impulse, she curled an arm behind herself, unzipped her dress and peeled it off.
"Judy, what are you doing?"
Judy slipped Rina's negligee from her shoulders, baring those lovely brown breasts tipped with red spikes. She drew the girl to her and kissed her mouth, softly enveloping it in her own, sucking the sweetness and tonguing her lips, fully aware that she felt some of what Rina did, that she could enjoy making love to a girl. She cupped her hand on a brown breast and shivered with delight at the firmness of it, at the hard nipple boring at her palm. Rina whimpered as she answered the kiss, her tongue lashing about Judy's, flogging it, even though tears streamed down her cheeks.
Judy whispered, "I've never kissed another girl, Rina. And I won't. But please admit that you have a lesbian streak, just as I have. Say it and be done."
Almost inaudibly, Rina choked, "I am. I am-a lesbian."
Judy licked into her mouth. "Say it again."
She whimpered, "I am, lesbian, yes, lesbian, and I'm crazy for you, darling, crazy for you-your body-"
She groaned, broke from Judy's mouth and thrust down to her breasts. She seized the big right breast in both hands and stuffed the swollen nipple and crown into her mouth, sucked it, tugged it, shook her head, whipping it about.
Judy's breast felt like liquid heat flowing into the girl's mouth. Seeing Rina's cheeks draw in as she sucked was an added thrill, and hearing breath rasp from her nostrils, and then feeling a hand trail down her belly to her twat.
But Judy stopped her there, saying. "Rina, there are things to do. You lawyer and that judge will be here soon." She raised Rina and held her close.
The other whispered, "How much I want you, Judy! Judy, will you sleep with me tonight?"
"Say please."
"Please, darling? Will you? I want to lick your sweet pussy all night long, and I want you sucking mine. Will you?"
Judy kissed her. "You have to share me with Carl."
"Who?"
"My guy. He works here."
"Anything, Judy, as long as I can love you once in a while. I'll give you both better jobs-"
"That's not important. All we care for is the right to be free:"
"Of course!"
"Another thing, you shouldn't have Jackie here. He's not good for you."
"I know that. I'll send him away to school. Let them worry about him."
She hugged fiercely, then left her to dress.
* * *
Judy went to the front door with Rina. Outside, two men were waiting, Rina's lawyer and the judge.
Rina said, "Darling, you will sleep with me tonight?"
"Yes. Carl, too. The three of us. He'll be here when you come back."
"I don't mind about him as long as I'm the only girl in your life."
Rina hurried out and went with the two men to the motel.
Shortly, Carl appeared. Judy beckoned for him to come in. She took him to Rina's mirrored bedroom.
He grinned. "What an orgy den!"
She sat on the bed and drew him down beside her. Putting his arm about her she opened his pants and felt his hot prick slide out, half hard, into her hand. She shivered with delight.
He said, "What in hell has happened?"
She kissed his throat. "I'd rather tell you while you fuck me." Under her massaging his cock was soon bony hard. "But Carl, first, do you mind if Rina and I-I mean, there's a girl-thing between us, you know?"
He grinned. "Can I watch?"
She giggled. "You horny thing!"
She sat there nuzzling his throat and caressing his dong, feeling terribly good, in no hurry to have it inside her. Carl too seemed content. She told him what happened. She was still playing with his rod when the phone in the corner rang.
She answered it.
It was Rina, saying, "Darling, it's all taken care of. Dome is fired, evicted, gone. The judge sent Sheriff Preskin away looking like a whipped cur. It's all taken care of, but I have an hour's work here organizing things. All right? Then I'll be with you."
"I'll be here." Judy hung up. She turned to Carl and eyed his rigid cock. How she wanted it! She said, "Honey, please undress in a hurry?"
She could feel cunt-juice runneling down her legs. She turned off the light, for there was too much glare, and when they were both naked and glowing in the moonlight that filled the big window she told Carl she was going to rape him, and he, the horny devil, laid on his back with his prick sticking up like a flagpole and let her mount him, slipping his cockhead into the squirty suction of her quivering fuck-hole, then impaling herself on it, filling up on bony prick, hanging over him, swaying her body to make her tits swing like bells.
They were both laughing.
She laughed, even as she humped through her first orgasm. It was a long, pulling, delicious cum. She got three more before Carl shot his load into her and afterward they lay there on Rina's bed, Judy caressing his cock and balls, and she knew that tomorrow the beach would be sunshiny, and she and Carl and Rina would be free to romp in the sand, to live as free people.
Shortly, Rina arrived, climbing into bed with them already nude. Judy turned from Carl to her female lover. He watched them kiss and fondle each other, then saw Rina go down on Judy's pussy. It made him horny. Judy stroked his prick as she mouthed into Rina's steaming crotch.
It was a busy night for Judy.
She was doing what she wanted, free now to enjoy every sensation.
