Shelly's father was breathing heavily as he cracked the whip idly against the bare, wood floor of the cabin. Each loud smack made the young girl moan in fear.
"Little bitch, it's about time you got what you deserved," the man cackled.
"Daddy, please, please, don't hurt me," the nineteen-year-old whispered.
The man clutched his heavy belly and licked his lips, loudly. In front of him, her lithe, naked frame jiggled and quivered in an alluring manner. The sight of her was making him very hot.
Her breasts were pink-tipped and hard, her thighs, slippery and glistening with the sweat of her terror. Her long, brown hair fell across her shoulders in a luscious fall.
"Yeah, cunt, first I'm gonna give you the strapping you've needed for years," he snorted.
"Then the dick you've been wanting for just as long!"
Helplessly, the young girl twisted her wrists against the chains that bound them. They clinked loudly, mournfully in the still air of the cabin. Behind her, her father was whirling the whip around his head for the first, savage blow.
CHAPTER ONE
Brennen licked the moisture from his upper lip and tasted the salt on his tongue. With his free hand he wiped his damp forehead and then replaced his hat on his head. Ahead of him, the sand was shimmering with the heat, reflecting the light almost as fiercely as if it had been a sheer, glass mirror. It was hot all right, going to get hotter.
Brennen considered himself lucky. He didn't mind the heat, nor did he mind the sweat that clung to him like clammy hands. He didn't mind much of anything, he reckoned.
He hummed as he drove the jeep over the torn, rutted road. He was alone out here in the desert, working his claim, tending his stock. It wasn't much, but it was his.
That's all a man needed, Brennen thought. Something to call his own. When a man had that, he had just about everything in the world he could care about.
Brennen was forty, though he didn't look it. He was tall and raw-boned, the sort of man that appeared slight, until you got a look at the muscles in his arms and felt his fingers in a handshake.
For most of the forty years, he had been drifting around from one job to another, cowboying somebody's hands, dealing with their men and animals expertly.
For those forty years, Brennen never considered himself amounting to much. He didn't think himself inferior to any man, but he couldn't claim to be important.
That's why he bought the old Mason ranch on impulse the year before. What the hell, he figured, it was time he had something of his own. Now he did, and he felt better than he had in years.
His last boss, Red Culver was still trying, after a year, to get him back. He had been working on doing that steadily ever since Brennen left him. It hadn't worked, yet.
"It ain't natural for a strong, gutty man like you to be out there alone," Red grumbled to him. "Man needs company, Brennen, all you got is your stock."
"They don't ride my case every time I 'talk to them," the lean man responded. "They don't try to badger me into working for somebody else, they like me the way I am."
Red didn't like that, but then, Brennen knew that the only reason Red wanted him back, was because Brennen was so good. It had nothing to do with his own well-being.
Brennen couldn't fault his old boss for trying, but he wasn't about to buy Red's concern for him for one minute. Anymore than he was planning to go back to work for him.
No, as far as Brennen was concerned, he'd made his play, he was going to stand by the game until it was over. Even if he lost everything, there was no turning back.
He had known it was going to be tough, taking it on all by himself. He'd worked enough western ranches to know that the work was harder than anyone could imagine.
There were about a hundred things that could go wrong on any given day, and they usually did. Brennen was always bone-tired by the time the sun went down, and he slept like a rock every night.
As he slowed the jeep down to a more relaxed pace, he laughed at his own stubborn determination. Man has to be crazy to swim up-stream, he thought, though it was a lot of fun.
The road was at its worst in this section of land. The county never took care of it, and without his jeep, Brennen knew he'd never be able to make it back and forth between town and his place.
He was about seventy miles outside of New London. Why they called it that he would never know. It was just a dinky little town with one bar and one store, and he usually made the trip in about once or twice a month.
It was rough on the back end, driving over these roads, and right now, Brennen was thinking about the cold bottle of beer he'd have at the other end of his journey. That, and the pretty waitress that worked in Barney's joint.
Brennen had been eyeing her for years, but then, so had every other man in the damn county it seemed. He didn't figure he'd ever have much of a chance with her, but she was fun to look at, anyway.
Brennen had been without a woman for nearly eight months now, and he was surprised at how little he missed it. He could only guess that like everything else, once you do without it long enough, it stops meaning anything until you get it again.
Someday he'd like to get himself a permanent woman, he thought. Somebody with gut and passion, a woman that could be as hard as nails when she needed to be, and as soft as silk when she didn't.
When and if that would ever happen, Brennen had no idea. At the moment, all he thought think about was the stud bull he was going to try and buy off of Red Culver. As for women, he resigned himself into settling for a look at the waitress in Barney's.
It was just going on ten in the morning as Brennen drove his jeep cautiously toward New London. While he was doing that, most people in the small town were trying to beat the morning heat.
It was already like an oven outside, and not much better inside, despite the air- conditioning that most people had in their homes. Few people would even consider doing anything more taxing than walking from one place to another in such heat.
Unfortunately for one young woman of nineteen, her husband had other ideas. She was lying on one of the beds in their motel room, waiting for him to come out of the shower.
Her name was Shelly Pickering, and she would have grit her teeth against what was about to happen to her, if it Wasn't so much of an effort to do so.
It was moments like this that set Shelly Pickering to wondering if she hadn't made a big mistake marrying Wilbur Pickering. It seemed like she had jumped from the pan into the fire, and not escaped as she had once hoped.
She could hardly breathe, she felt so disgustingly hot. In her bed, the sheets were already soaked with her sweat, and her body was anything but interested in sex.
The trouble was that Wilbur Pickering was thirty years old, acted ten years older than that, and reminded her, horribly, of her father. That was a memory she didn't need.
At nineteen, Shelly Mims had been desperate to escape the grip of her family. Her father and two brothers had abused her enough, she decided, and Wilbur Pickering had seemed like a logical, if less than appealing escape.
He came from money, not a lot, but some, and though totally repulsive in almost every way, appeared to care for her a lot. That was more than she had at home.
"Almost ready, honey," Wilbur called from the bathroom. He peeked out from the door, his fat, red face damp with either sweat or shower water.
"Please hurry up, Wilbur," Shelly sighed, quietly. "I'm more than tired of lying here, drenched in my own sweat. I'd like to shower, myself."
"Don't act so damn prissy," her husband grumbled. "You're lucky we're getting out of here."
"I know, Wilbur, I know," Shelly moaned. "I'm forever in your debt."
Her husband emerged from the bathroom, wearing only a towel around his waist, one that barely covered his obscene rolls of fat. When he walked, he waddled, sickeningly.
It made Shelly want to vomit, just to look at him. It was not only that he was fat and ugly, but he had a mean streak in him too, one that made up her memory of her father.
Every time Wilbur touched her, she could remember her father's hand on her body. She could smell the old man, dank from whiskey and sweat, his mouth wet and greedy on her flesh.
She had tried to push the image out of her brain, but it was impossible. At seventeen she had been finally taken by the old man, hard, fast and cruel, and nothing was going to ever erase that memory from her mind.
Her father wasn't like Wilbur in size or features, though. Frank Mims was stocky and broad, a powerfully built man with a cruel, hard face. Wilbur was all blubber and weakness.
Now, it was his manner of love-making, what he liked to do to her that reminded her of the old man. It was the viciousness of his passion that made her remember.
Like many cowardly men, Wilbur could only enjoy himself by beating her. He liked to have her helpless and defenseless when they screwed. It was the only way he could enjoy it.
Now, he sat on the edge of his bed, leering at her in her sheer nightie, while his fat, pudgy fingers toyed with the leather thongs he used to bind her. She turned her head away from him, and in an effort to endure what was going to happen, tried to remember worse times, times when she felt not only alone, but totally helpless.
Such as the last time with the old man and her two brothers. That was always good for a session of comparing life with Wilbur to life with them. She could remember it clearly, as if it was happening right in front of her eyes all over again.
Wilbur had asked her to marry him. She had toyed with the idea for weeks, putting him off in her decision for as long as possible. Somehow, she clung to the hope that she could escape on her own, rather than with a pig like him.
Coming home drunk one night, with her two brothers, her father took care of that particular hope. Even as she heard the truck pull up outside, she knew there was going to be trouble.
She had been sitting in the tiny living room of their shack, trying to read. She had loved to read as a girl, but as the years went by, the joy evaporated.
Reading no longer took her out of her miserable existence, but only reminded her of how bad it was. Still, she tried to amuse herself with books, for it was all she had.
She heard the old man and the two younger ones cackling drunkenly out in the night.
Moaning, she got up from her chair and tried to make it to her room before they came in.
Unfortunately, she wasn't quite quick enough.
"Hey, bitch, get up some food for us," her father snarled at her.
"Yeah, damn it, we're powerful hungry, sis, we need some chow," Dirk, her eldest brother snarled. "You probably been sitting on your ass all day, anyway."
"Shit, she don't ever work around here," grumbled Billy, her younger brother.
She glared at the three of them, swaying as if in a sand storm at the door. Shaking her head, she growled fiercely. "Dinner was two hours ago, eat left-overs."
She swung her head around again, tossing her long, brown hair in a defiant manner. Her father crossed the room, quickly, grabbing hold of her hair and yanking her back.
"Just who the hell do you think you are, bitch?" he snarled, twisting her around.
"Let me go, damn it, you drunken fool," she hissed. "I'm not your wife."
"Good God damn thing you ain't," he snarled, throwing her against the wall. "I'd tan your hide good for mouthing off at me like this."
"I cooked dinner, Daddy, you weren't here," she hissed. "Now you and the other two can just reheat it yourselves. I'm not running a diner here, damn it."
She turned away again, and her father caught her by the neck of her dress, it tore, suddenly, and she gasped as one of her breasts fell free. Desperately, she pulled the tattered cloth up to cover herself.
"Still acting like the bitch, ain't you?" he father chuckled harshly. "I thought I'd taught you a lesson about that, two years ago, slut!"
"Don't get crazy, Daddy," she whispered warningly. "I never said anything about that to anybody. So just leave me be, or I'll do some talking, I warn you!"
Her father snorted in contempt and grabbed hold of her throat. "You little bitch," he laughed. "You do need taking down a peg or two, don't you?"
"Let me go, you big bastard," she hissed, clawing at his fingers and face.
He pulled his head away from her hands and pulled the struggling young woman around.
Her two brothers were watching intently, thin, cruel smiles on their lips.
"Strip her, Daddy," Dirk Mims whispered, fiercely. "Give her a good beating!"
"Chain her up, Daddy," Billy laughed, anxiously. "Damn, you ain't done that in a long time!"
"By Christ, that's what I'll do," her father snarled. "Yeah, bitch, you've been asking for a good licking for months. Time you got one, I think!"
He threw her hard into the living room, and she screamed softly as she fell to her knees on the worn carpet. Frank Mims went to the wall beside the door and pulled down a long length of dog chain, then turned to face the cowering young woman.
"Jesus, Daddy, no, please," Shelly whispered, blinking in terror.
He crossed the room, quickly, reaching her just as she stood up to flee. In a moment, he was joined by his two sons, and they held the struggling young woman, while Frank tightened the chain around her wrists and arms.
"God, Daddy, don't, please, don't hurt me," the girl sobbed. "Jesus, no, no!"
"Shut up, bitch," he snarled, hitting her hard across the mouth with the back of his hand.
"I'm gonna teach you to mouth off to me, slut."
He threw the chain up over a beam and pulled hard on it, raising Shelly's arms above her head. She winced in pain, shivering as he handed the chain to her two brothers.
"Haul her up," he snarled. "Get her toes off the floor, God damn it, boys!"
Cackling in excitement and delight, the two boys gripped the chain tightly and began to walk away from the struggling young woman. Shelly screamed as she felt the tension increasing on her wrists, slowly drawing her up from the floor.
The pain shot downward through her arms as the two boys relentlessly hauled on the chain. She sobbed, twisting helplessly on her shackled wrists as she rose.
"All right, lock her in place," her father snapped when her feet were a clear foot off the carpet, kicking helplessly. "Now we can get down to business."
"Ohh, God, Daddy, please don't hurt me again," whimpered the young girl. "God, help me, Daddy, please, please!"
"Jesus, she bellows like an old woman," sneered Dirk Mims. "Makes me want to puke, hearing her squeal like that, Daddy."
"I'll shut her up," Frank Mims growled. He walked around in front of the young woman and gazed at her writhing body. The flap of clothing that had been torn loose on her dress was exposing her breast once more, and he stared at the tiny globe, coldly.
"Christ, boy's, she's got no face, but at least she's got a half-way decent body," he hissed.
He reached up then, took hold of the dress and tore downward. Shelly screamed again as she felt him ripping the garment from her, panties and all, in one ruthless pull.
Her lithe, delicate frame shivered in its nakedness, now. Frank Mims stared at her grimly, his eyes wandering over her tiny breasts and quivering nipples, and the smooth, damp surface of her firm belly.
Her crotch was damp with the sweat of fear, . making her dark brown public hair glisten erotically. He walked around her slowly, admiring the firmness of her buttocks, and the smooth, graceful arch of her spine.
"She's grown some," he grunted. "Since the last time."
"Daddy, please, this is bad," she moaned helplessly. "You can't do this, Daddy, it's wrong, you know it's wrong!"
"Your mouthing off to your father is what's wrong, bitch," Frank growled, pulling his belt from the loops of his trousers. "That's what's got to be corrected."
The chain that was looped around her wrists was cutting into her flesh, now, and Shelly twisted her head around, wincing at the throbbing pain as she did. She could see her father behind her, then, looping the wide, leather belt around his fist.
"You gonna fuck her, after you beat her, Daddy?" Billy Mims asked, anxiously.
"I'll do what I have to, boy, now shut up," her father snarled. "You two pay close attention to this. Learn how to treat a woman when she gets out of line!"
With that, he swung the belt, lashing it hard against Shelly's quivering buttocks. The pain tore through the pert half moons, viciously, making her shudder violently under the impact of the blow.
She screamed wildly, throwing her head back in pain, gasping as she tried to speak. "Stop it, Daddy, please, no more, stop it," she moaned, fiercely.
Ignoring her, the man swung the belt in a high arch and lashed ruthlessly at her narrow shoulders. Once more the pain dug deep into her flesh, searing her as if it were a red hot iron being pressed against her delicate skin. Shelly could hear her father grunting loudly as he methodically worked the belt up and down the length of her spine. He laughed in delight as she jerked spasmodically from the blows, her screams of pain ripping the air, savagely.
He seemed to take great delight in watching her twist and turn in pain, in hearing her agonized cries. She felt the belt cutting into her thighs, viciously, and she gasped in pain, shivering as if she were caught in a freezing snow storm.
As he beat her, Frank Mims felt his cock growing hard behind his jeans. It had been this way with his wife, and now his daughter provided his excitement.
He could see the bright red welts rising up on her flesh, the cruel, ribbons of damage left in the wake of the lashing, and his lust began to grow vivid and intense.
He moved around in front of his daughter then, and stared at her as she shivered and twisted on the chain, her breasts rising and falling heavily with her breathing.
Her nipples were very taut, by now, sweet and pink, luscious in their enticing quiver. Her cunt mound was trembling, too, and rich with the glistening sweat of her pain. Absently, the man rubbed his aching groin.
"By Christ, taming a bitch will get a man hungry for her," he muttered, grimly. "Damn, just thinking about it gets me aching, slut!"
Through the roaring of pain in her ears from his blows, Shelly Mims could barely hear her father's whispering groan. What she heard was the tenor and greed in his voice, and that alone was enough to tell her what he was thinking.
"No, Daddy, don't," she whispered pleadingly. "Anything but that, Daddy, anything!"
But already, Frank Mims had his hands on his daughter's arms, and was sliding his fingers up and down the length of them, while bending his body toward hers. "God damn, girl, you do get a man hungry, don't you?" he cackled. "I'll bet you like to do it, too, don't you bitch?
Like to get your daddy hot!"
Shelly gasped as she felt her father suddenly pressing his lips to hers, flicking his tongue at her tightly clenched teeth. She groaned, turning her head away, desperately, trying to escape the man's greedy kisses.
She could taste the sour beer on his lips, and his grimy fingers made her flesh crawl as he dropped his hands to her breasts. She sobbed as she felt him closing his fingers around the small, pert globes, kneading them fiercely.
He rubbed his thumbs against her nipples and a sharp, stinging pain tore through the tender, tiny boobs. Hungrily, he kissed her then forced his tongue between her teeth.
"God damn you, loosen it up, whore." he snarled savagely. "You keep fucking with your old man like this, he's gonna just have to be a bit meaner with you!"
To make his point, he pinched one of her pink nipples between his thumb and forefinger and twisted it savagely. She screamed, and her mouth opened wide, allowing his tongue access.
He laughed, driving the greedy prong deep into her mouth, nearly gagging her as he lashed greedily for her own, moist spear. At the same time, his hands continued to explore the damp, quivering flesh of her helpless frame.
His lips were hard and cruel as they crushed down over hers. She could barely breathe because of the choking pressure of his mouth over hers, and she felt a deep, piercing shame racing through her as she felt his harsh, anxious caresses.
One of his hands slithered down over her belly to her cunt mound and she whimpered in disgust as the man began to toy with the tufts of hair that covered her hillock.
He laughed as he plucked on the strands, pulling them away from the flesh of her belly.
He slid two fingers down over her pussy lips then, and her sense of self-loathing and shame grew ten-fold inside of her.
"Ohh, God, Daddy, this is horrible," she whispered in near agony. "Don't, you mustn't, please, please don't!"
"Ohh, but baby, I know how much you like it," her father chuckled "Why, I can tell, you do, honey, you're already wet and hot down here, don't you know?"
His fingers continued to tease and fondle her cunt mound, rubbing the tender lips that guarded her cave between them. She gasped as she felt his thumb massaging her clit, pressing hard against the taut, moist button in an attempt to stimulate her.
His free hand slithered around behind her back, then, and danced along the smooth length of her spine to the sweet curve of her behind. She sobbed quietly as she felt him cup his hand over her buttocks and squeeze them firmly in his massive fingers.
"Jesus, such a sweet, tight ass," Frank chuckled harshly. "God damn, little girl, you certainly have grown up a bit since the last time, ain't you?"
"Bastard," she gasped, tearing her mouth away from his. "Rotten bastard!"
Frank Mims dug his fingers deep into the flesh of one buttock and squeezed it savagely.
As his daughter screamed in pain, he twisted his fingers in her flesh.
"Keep it up, little whore," he snarled. "And I'll ass-fuck you instead!"
To make his point, he forced two fingers down between the moist cleft of her buttocks and scraped them hard against her rectal dot.
She screamed in pain as she felt the digits rubbing her tight, warm entrance, knowing full well that he would do just what he warned.
His head was bowed, then, his lips at her throat, kissing and licking her obscenely. She moaned, feeling his tongue washing over her breast bone, relentlessly moving down toward the taut, luscious apples of her tiny breasts.
Shelly Mims, at that moment, was remembering the first time her father had beaten and raped her. It had happened much quicker than this, and she had been alone with him that time.
This was much worse, however, for her two brothers were watching all of this with intense looks of greedy delight on their faces, making the girl feel something less than human as her father so cruelly kneaded and fondled her helpless flesh.
"Ohh, Daddy, give her a good fucking," Dirk Mims, groaned.
"Stick it to her good, Daddy," his brother added. "Show her she can't act like a cunt with us!"
"Shut up," her father growled. "Pay attention here, boys, your sister's about to learn some manners for a God damn change around here!"
His lips were at Shelly's breasts, by now, and his teeth were nipping at the soft, moist flesh of her globes, painfully. He flicked his tongue at one pert, red nipple, lathering it in a lewd and greedy manner.
At the same time his fingers were kneading and massaging her buttocks and loins with a growing intensity. She felt his groin pressed hard against her thigh, and behind his jeans, the powerful, demanding throb of his cock beating angrily.
He groaned thickly as he rubbed his crotch against her quivering limb. His mouth covered one breast, then, and he caught the nipple tightly between his teeth.
Shelly screamed softly as she felt her father rolling the sweet, pert nub back and forth. He lashed at it with his tongue, making the harsh, sensual waves ripple through her breasts, uncontrollably.
She moaned, jerking spasmodically, and Frank Mims cackled in delight. "I knew you'd love it, whore," he growled. "I just knew a slut like you, would love it!"
In that moment, Shelly didn't know who she hated more: her father, or herself. As his tongue washed over her captured nipple, filling her breast with an aching mixture of pain and pleasure that she couldn't deny, shame roared in her uncontrollably.
She felt his fingers kneading and massaging her cunt, now, pulling on her pussy lips, rubbing them back and forth. A thin stream of lubricant was dripping from her cave and the pounding heat of undeniable wanting was pouring from her taut chamber.
Frank Mims felt his daughter's body responding, and it did not matter to him if it was against her will or not. All that was important was the throbbing heat that escaped her pit, and the quivering dance of her flesh beneath his fingers.
He groaned loudly, and fumbled with the zipper to his jeans. "Damn, bitch, you got me going now," he moaned. "Got my prick hard all right, baby, real hard!"
Shelly sobbed wildly as she felt the huge, fat prong now resting tightly against her thigh. It beat violently, the hot blood tearing through it as her father resumed rubbing his crotch up and down against her leg.
She could feel the huge knob of his tool pulsating against her flesh, seeming to grow thicker and harder with each passing moment. From his groin, she could smell the scent of his passion rising from his loins, tingling in her nostrils sickeningly.
The sound of their twisting bodies echoed in the room, coupled with that of their frantic, labored breathing. Both of the man's sons were moaning themselves, kneading their groins as they watched their father amusing himself with their sister.
"Come on, Daddy, give it to her," his brother moaned. "I want to see her jerking on the end of your cock, Daddy!"
Their father laughed harshly, twisting the tips of his fingers against his daughter's wet, swollen cunt lips. Shelly winced in pain as he forced two of the prongs between her tender petals and drove them upward into her narrow, taut sleeve.
Her eyes were shut tight, now, refusing to watch any of what was happening to her. She felt her father's fingers burying themselves to the hilt in her pussy, and heard his hard, gasping laughter ringing in his ears as he turned them against her inner walls.
"Yeah, I remember this," Frank Mims moaned. "Nice and tight, real tight, yeah!"
He was grunting and snorting as he slid the fingers in and out of Shelly's cunt. At the same time, he was pushing one digit hard against her tight, anal dot, and the young woman was desperately trying to relax her muscles as much as she could.
She gasped in pain as Frank Mims forced his finger into her bum. The pain was vicious and intense, something like a hot knife being thrust into her poor, aching behind.
The man cackled in delight and groaned, driving his finger all the way into his daughter's bum, while he turned the others, relentlessly, back and forth in her cunt.
At her thigh, his cock was rigid and hard, now, pounding with a cruel and greedy intensity.
She could feel it throbbing against her warm, wet limb, hot and fiery, obviously nearing a point of powerful and savage eruption.
Every thrust of her father's fingers into her twin, slender passages made the young woman sob with pain, and shudder with the uncontrollable agony of his attack.
Even worse, for her, though was the obscene quality of this assault, the fact that she was being ravaged by her own father, taken in front of her brother's leering eyes. That in itself, was enough to make her want to die of shame and humiliation.
Desperately, she tried to accept all of it. He was sucking ruthlessly on her breasts, gnawing on her nipples cruelly in turn, and his fingers were pumping steadily in and out of her poor, aching bum, and damp, throbbing cunt.
For the helpless and degraded young woman, there was little more she could do, now, but endure this savage and vicious attack, as best she could.
"Daddy, Daddy," she moaned, softly.
"Please, Daddy, fast, do it fast."
Frank Mims laughed happily, viciously twisting his fingers against the silken warmth of his daughter's pussy. He felt her bum muscles quivering spasmodically around his finger and his groin pounded with a harsh and aching need.
"Don't worry, bitch, you're gonna get it," he hissed. "You're getting all of it!"
Massaging her anal passage with his finger, briskly riding it back and forth along the slender tube, he eased his other digits out of her cunt, and took hold of his shaft.
The head of his tool was hot and throbbing as he brought it to the tender lips of her pussy.
She sobbed as she felt the pounding knob slithering between them, greedily inching its way into her tight, warm channel.
"Ohh, man, slam it into her, Daddy," echoed Billy. "Make her squeal!"
Frank Mims was moaning wildly as he eased his cock into his daughter's wet, gripping vault. Her cunt, so tight and nearly virginal, seemed to lock hold of his cock and hold it snugly as he slithered it upward into the wet, slippery cave.
"Damn, you're nice and tight, baby," Frank grunted coldly. "Jesus, ain't had a pussy this tight in I don't know how long, little girl!"
"Just do it," she sobbed breathlessly. "God, God, just get it over with!"
Frank cackled fiercely and bucked himself savagely against the girl's trembling belly. She moaned as he drove his cock upward, deep and hard, burying the shaft to the hilt in her pit, at last penetrating his own child's loins.
The huge, hot spear throbbed powerfully against the young woman's inner flesh. She could feel it beating savagely inside of her, the flesh of his rod rippling with his excitement, sending waves of an ecstasy she did not want, tearing through her loins.
"Umm, kid, your Daddy's gonna fuck you, good," Frank Mims cackled. "Gonna dick you the best, honey, you're gonna love, my sweet little bitch!"
She sobbed as she felt him begin to ride the huge, pounding weapon in and out of her tunnel. He groaned, twisting from left to right as he rode into her, each stroke more violent and frenzied than the last.
As the shaft slithered in and out of her cave, she could not prevent her vaginal muscles from kneading the tool, almost anxiously squeezing and massaging the driving prong.
Her father cackled in delight, burying his finger deep in her bottom, while he clutched at her buttocks with the rest of his hands. He grunted fiercely, pumping back and forth with increasing savagery, driving himself toward the climax he sought.
"Ummm, sweet baby, feels good," he cackled. "Fucking tight and hot, bitch, yeah! This is it, you little smart mouthed whore, this is what you need, cunt!"
He was like an animal, then, pounding his cock in and out of her cunt with no mercy. She sobbed, jerking spasmodically as he rode the shaft deep into her pit, grinding his slippery belly against her taut, firm stomach in a ruthless fashion.
Her poor, aching cunt was on fire, then, burning with pain, and a throbbing, savage need that she hated even more than the man that was ravaging her. She could feel her flesh responding, her cunt drawing tight as it had so often in the past when she brought herself to a climax by masturbating.
She wanted to scream at her flesh, order it to stop this response, but there was nothing she could do. Her father rammed into her pussy relentlessly, now, twisting and turning with ever violent thrust, groaning his pleasure aloud.
At her breasts, his wet, slippery mouth was lathering the twin, pert globes, his teeth nibbling and sucking on the aching nipples. She felt him twisting his finger in her bottom, and even that was pleasing to her, now, despite her self-disgust.
Frank Mims felt his daughter's cunt walls drawing tight around his prick and he laughed wildly in delight. He could feel the inner flesh growing hot and frenzied, clearly responding to him, clearing reaching a moment of exquisite agony.
His groin was boiling, then, the hot come and blood churning uncontrollably in his bag. He knew she was enjoying this, but even that didn't matter, only coming had importance to him then, only blowing his load in her hot, damp pit.
Moaning as if in agony, he dug his fingers deep into the spongy flesh of her buttocks and pulled her pussy tight to his groin. His prick quaked back and forth inside her tunnel, and his balls shuddered violently between her dangling legs.
"Jesus, little bitch, I'm gonna come," he gasped harshly. "Ahh, Christ, kid, gonna come so fucking good, now, Shelly, gonna come in your pussy so nice!"
The young woman sobbed as she felt her father renewing his pumping attack. He rode briskly in and out of her, now, thrusting hard and fast, almost out of control.
The hot, hard pole was twice its normal size, quaking with the violent power of his impending release. He no longer sucked on her aching breasts, but lay his head hard against them, as he ground his cock inside of her cunt one last time.
He nearly squealed as the orgasm exploded in his groin and the hot come began to spurt savagely from his tool. He sobbed, pumping hard and fast, then, moaning with tortured delight as the angry seed burst from his throbbing groin.
Shelly hung there, helpless as her father emptied his loins into her pit. Her head was drooping against her chest and thankfully her own moment of passion had left her. She did not want to experience any joy in this, only suffer the shame of his climax spurting cruelly into her ravaged chamber.
As her father bucked back and forth in his ecstasy, Shelly Mims made the decision then and there, to accept Wilbur Pickering's offer of marriage. Anything, she thought, would be better than this shame and disgrace. Anything.
CHAPTER TWO
Brennen tooled the jeep through the dusty street of New London with a rapidly growing beat in his heart. He had to fight to keep his excitement under control.
He gazed around at the tiny hamlet and was amused at himself for finding it so damn thrilling. He reckoned that Red Culver might be right after all. If a man could get this turned out over a dinky little town like this, maybe he had been out in the God damn desert too long at that!
He sighed heavily and pulled the jeep to a jerking stop in front of the small general store in the middle of the town. He glanced across the street toward the bar and wiped his lips hungrily with his hand.
"Hey there, Brennen," called a raspy voice from the steps of the store. "Jesus, ain't seen you around here in a dog's age, I suspect!"
Brennen turned and grinned at the grizzled man of fifty or so that was peering at him so intently. He swept off his hat in a salute and climbed down from the jeep.
"Well, Smokey, you look fit," he laughed walking around to shake the man's hand.
"Shit, ain't nothing around here to get me in trouble," the tobacco chewing man spat.
"Might just as well stay in good shape, don't you figure?"
They shook hands, the older man peering at Brennen, intently. "Well, now, what brings you to town? Ain't no pussy to be had, you know."
Brennen laughed. "That ain't exactly why I'm here," he said ruefully. "I'm fixing to do a little dealing with Red."
Smokey Charles spat disgustedly. "You still after that stud bull of his?" he snorted. "You know he ain't never gonna sell you that animal, Brennen."
"Ohh, he might, if the price is right," the tall, lean man chuckled.
"Shit, the only thing Red Culver wants from you is to get you back under his thumb," Smokey spat again. "He keeps bitching about losing you, says you were the best foreman he ever had. He wants you back, Brennen."
Brennen shook his head, slowly. "He never took the time to let me know that," he sighed.
"And as for going back, no chance. I never look behind me, Smokey."
"Well, that might be true, Brennen, but how you think you'll get that bull out of him, I couldn't begin to guess," -he sighed. "How about a beer, you look dry."
Brennen chuckled and wiped his lips again. "I'd love it, Smokey, but I think I'd better take care of my business first," he sighed. "One thing at a time."
"Yeah, I reckon you're right, Brennen," Smokey cackled. "Don't do to go dealing with Red Culver when you're muddle-headed. I can't argue with that."
Brennen nodded grimly. He gazed up and down the length of the town and suddenly felt a deep black mood coming over him. For a moment, he wondered if he wasn't just kidding himself. Breaking his ass for something that wasn't real, after all.
Smokey seemed to sense his frame of mind. He gave Brennen a quick inspection, as if trying to see into his mind. Finally, he shook his head, worriedly.
"You don't look all that right, Brennen," he said, seriously. "I think maybe the lonelies are getting you, living out there by yourself like you do."
Brennen grinned fiercely. "Can't be helped, Smokey," he growled. "I don't have much, and what it is, is just enough to take care of me."
Smokey sniffed. "You need a woman, Brennen," he snorted. "Keep you company on 'em long, cold nights. Ain't natural what you're doing."
"That's just what Red tells me, every time I see him," Brennen sighed. "Now there ain't much I can do about it at the moment, is there?"
"Naw, the pickings are kind of slim around here," Smokey agreed. "The last free pussy got snatched up a few months back. That little Mims bitch."
Brennen nodded absently. "That the skinny one with the sad-looking face?"
Smokey grunted. "Sad, all right. You had an old man like Frank Mims and his two worthless boys for family, you'd be sad, too," he growled.
"Who'd she marry?" Brennen wondered aloud.
Smokey spat. "That banker Wilbur Pickering," he snarled.
Brennen laughed. "You don't sound like you approve of the match, Smokey."
"Shit, Brennen, that little girl had a hard enough life, without mixing up with that pig," he hissed. "Wilbur Pickering is a prize prick and we all know it!"
"Well, it's none of my concern," Brennen grunted. "You make mistakes, you make them!"
Smokey nodded mournfully, then hitched up his trousers and spat into the street again.
"Well, I got to get the bus tooled up," he snapped. "Make a run to L.A."
"You still running the bus line?" Brennen laughed. "It's a wonder anybody rides anymore.
Not to put down your vehicle of course."
"Hell, I'll be done, soon," Smokey snorted. "Don't need my bus anymore. This is a special case. Of course, they still run the mine pay roll now and then."
"Jesus, you'd think they'd use an armored car for that," growled Brennen.
"Nobody ever said we were smart out here," Smokey grunted. "Only cheap."
"Well, I guess I'd better be seeing Red about that stud bull," Brennen sighed.
"You sure I can't talk you into that beer?" Smokey asked. "Be mighty cold and tasty!"
Brennen laughed. "Tell you what, Smokey, you set a couple up, I'll be around."
The grizzled old man nodded happily. "Now you watch yourself with old Red," he cautioned. "If he can slick you, you know he will."
"I'll keep my eyes open and my wallet in my drawers," Brennen promised him.
Smokey grunted and watched as the tall, lean man climbed back into his jeep and drove down the dusty rode toward the corral that Red Culver kept at the far end of town.
Most of the town's meager population were embarrassed by the sight and smell of animals in their community, but since Red Culver owned most of everything in the town, no one objected to his corral very strongly.
Brennen drove easily toward the tall corral. On the top of the fence, he could see several men peering into the dirt corral, one of them a squat, heavy figure of his former employer.
Sucking in his belly and taking a deep breath, Brennen parked his jeep a few feet from the corral and walked briskly toward it. He noted that Red Culver had been one of the few men to glance around as he approached.
He climbed up on the gate and settled down beside the big man. Red Culver was shouting to two men in the corral, trying their best to put a rope on a frenzied horse.
"God damn it, settle him down," he barked. "Don't head into it, idiots, work around the fucking thing. Jesus, what a bunch of assholes, I got working for me."
"Glad to see you haven't changed, Red," Brennen laughed, offering his hand.
"You neither," the big man grunted, ignoring it. "Still playing the loner, huh, Brennen? You ain't ever gonna make it work, you know."
"Ohh, I'll give it my best shot," Brennen chuckled. "You know that."
Spitting disgustedly, Red Culver turned to him now, narrowing his eyes. "You come about that stud bull, ain't you?" he said, evenly.
Brennen nodded. "I got a down payment, and can give you the rest in the spring."
"Hell, I don't need your piss-ant money," Red snorted. "God, Brennen, I can buy and sell you any day of the week, and you know it."
"We're not talking about me, Red," Brennen smiled, thinly. "Just about the bull!"
"Why don't you just come back to work for me," Red said, happily. "Jesus, I need a man like you to watch over these birds. I'll double your previous wages."
Brennen shook his head. "I'm grateful for the offer, Red," he sighed. "But I kind of like being my own boss, I'm afraid I've gotten too used to it."
"Well, I can't see helping a man kick his own ass," Red growled disgustedly.
Brennen shook his head and laughed. "Red, are you gonna sell me the bull or not?" he asked. "Because if you won't, I'll just have to go some place else."
Red Culver glared at him, then glanced into the corral where a huge, stud bull was snorting, his head flashing back and forth as he encountered his new surroundings.
Red turned to Brennen, smiling. "Tell you what, Brennen," he chuckled. "You ride that sucker over there, and you can have him. All you got to do is ride him until he stops kicking."
"And if I don't?" Brennen asked, guardedly.
"Then I get your jeep," Red said, simply. "An even bet, what do you say?"
Brennen thought of the bull, of what it could do for him. If he had to buy one, it would set him in hock for a year. If he could get one for nothing, he'd be in the black by next fall. It was a more than tempting offer.
"I don't think so, Red," he chuckled at last. "I don't see any sense in taking chances with what little money I got left."
As he slipped from the railing to the ground, Red Culver's new foremen sneered at him "You lost your guts, then, Brennen?" he sneered coldly. "Turned yellow, have you?"
Brennen glared at the men, then gazed intently into Red's grinning face. "Get a rope," he hissed at last. "Put him in a chute for me, God damn you."
In their motel room, Shelly Pickering was watching her husband carefully tying her wrists and ankles with the loops of leather cord he had fondled before. Beside him on his bed, was a short-handled whip.
"We have to, don't we?" she said grimly, her voice raw with disgust.
"You know I can't take a long trip when I'm agitated, dear," Wilbur Pickering hissed. "I have to be relaxed, or else I get very upset."
"So I have to be all knocked around while you enjoy your journey, is that it?"
Wilbur Pickering glared at his wife. "Remember who got you out of that disgusting little dump you were living in, my dear," he snarled. "Remember who gave you the only chance you were ever likely to get, bitch."
"Some chance," she growled, wincing as he pulled the noose tight against her wrists. "Just what is it that you have given me, my wonderful husband?"
Wilbur Pickering sneered at his wife. "I gave you a chance to be decent, slut," he snapped. "Which is more than you would have ever gotten if I hadn't taken pity on you.
You were nothing, young lady, and you know it."
"Now, I'm something, is that it?" she laughed. "A real important person, right?"
He snarled, grimly. "You're my wife, you slut, you weren't the most beautiful girl when I married you, and cleaning you up didn't seem to do much good, either!"
"Fuck you, you bastard," she snarled, pulling away from him. "I'm sick of hearing how good you were to me. How lucky I am to have you, you fat pig!"
"By Christ, I ought to leave you here," he spat, harshly. "Just dump you back with your old man and two brothers. That'd serve you right, all right!"
"Go ahead, Wilbur, see how your father feels about doing that," Shelly sneered. "He didn't give you two cents or a decent job until you married me, remember?"
Wilbur Pickering did not like to remember that his father in L.A. seemed to care more for his daughter-in-law than his own son. But what Shelly said was true enough, the old man hadn't given him the time of day until Shelly came along.
Now, with the old man dying, Wilbur had a chance to come into the money he had always dreamed of having. So he knew as well as Shelly did, that he couldn't leave her behind, and if he did, she'd make him pay dearly for it.
Still, he knew he had the upper hand with her, no matter what sort of game she tried to play. He stared now, at her thin, supple body, unable to keep from getting the hard on he always got when he saw her naked and tied.
"Get down on the floor, bitch," he snarled. "I have to finish binding you."
Shelly groaned as the flashing image of her father danced in front of her eyes. She was staring at her husband, taking in all his fat, sweating ugliness, but in her mind, it was Mims leering at her, his cock pounding behind the towel around Wilbur's waist.
I said, "Get down on the floor, bitch," the man hissed, slamming his fist hard against Shelly's temple. "Down where you belong, whore!"
Wilbur's punch, as they always were, was barely more than a tap. It hardly hurt the young woman at all, yet she groaned and slumped to the floor, as if it had been a death blow slamming into her head.
Wilbur laughed in triumph and quickly joined her on the floor. He took a length of leather thong and quickly secured her ankles with it. Kneeling in front of him, his wife was gasping for breath as the greasy fat man stood up again.
"Now, you're where you should be," the man cackled, reaching for the whip on the bed.
"Just where a bitch like you ought to be, on your knees, waiting for the sort of punishment you deserve!"
"Spare me the lecture, Wilbur," Shelly groaned. "Get it over with."
Growling fiercely, Wilbur Pickering tightened his grip on the short-handled whip and came around behind the kneeling young woman. He ran his eyes up and down the length of her trembling spine and chuckled anxiously.
"God, I love beating you," he whispered. "You just don't know how much."
"I know, Wilbur," she hissed grimly. "Believe me, you bastard, I know!"
The fat man snorted with rage and swung the whip around in a circle, bringing the strands down hard against his wife's narrow shoulders. She gasped in pain, but refused to scream as the vicious, tearing strands cut into her flesh.
Her body buckled under the impact of the blow and Wilbur grunted with satisfaction. He waited for several moments, allowing the pain to sink deep into her bones and linger for the longest time possible, before striking her again.
This time, he cracked the strands viciously against her buttocks, and she hissed in pain, her body buckling under the blow once more, driving her forward across the carpet.
"Like it, bitch?" he laughed, savagely. "I do, you cunt, man, do I ever!"
Ruthlessly, he lashed her buttocks once more. The pain was sharp and intense, and she could almost feel the vicious welts rising up on her bottom as the whip strands tore into the exposed buttocks, making them tingle, savagely.
Wilbur's eyes grew wide with excitement as he saw the bright red ribbons marring the creamy surface of Shelly's pert half moons. He could see the glisten of painful sweat dripping off her body, now, and he attacked her even more brutally.
He brought the strands of the whip down viciously across the base of her spine this time, hurting her so bad that she lost her balance and fell on her belly.
She screamed, softly, this time, too, and that urged Wilbur's sadistic passion on. "Yeah, bitch, scream," he hissed as he struck her again. "Scream out loud, you fucking cunt! I love it when you scream, God, do I ever love it!" . , He was almost in a frenzy as he beat her. Again and again he brought the whip down on her buttocks and shoulders, tearing into her flesh, ruthlessly. Each wet, tingling smack of the leather against her body made the throbbing in his cock grow worse, and the anxious greed that tingled in his balls more powerful and intense.
She began to moan softly as he struck her, and sob in a long, piercing wail of agony with every blow. She was rolling on the carpet, then, jerking spasmodically as he followed her about, raining the blows down on her, v relentlessly.
"You cunt, you whore, take this, you bitch, take it," he nearly sobbed. "By God, you need, it, bitch, do you ever need this, you worthless slut!'" The pain was blindingly fierce, it seemed, almost more than she could bear without fainting. She moaned, jerking and twisting in an effort to escape the falling lash.
Wilbur was an expert in beating her, though. He knew where to strike and when to do it.
As she curled up, he attack her buttocks and spine, when she rolled on her back; he lashed at her naked belly and breasts.
He laughed wildly at her, the towel gone from his waist, now, exposing his layers of fat, and the prick that rose up from between his thick, fleshy thighs.
His cock was hard and pounding, a cruel, painful throbbing that left him breathless with wanting. Staring down at the writhing young woman, he felt his seed bubbling in his sack, and the aching passion roaring up and down the length of his tool.
Shelly's face was etched with suffering, her lips drawn back over her teeth in a tortured grimace of pain. Her body trembled involuntarily as she rolled about the rug, her and her wrists were raw from the tightness of the thongs that bound them.
She was utterly helpless, of course, exactly how her husband wanted her to be. He stood over her, his body heaving with the effort of beating her, his eyes narrow and pig-like as he stared intently at her bruised, shivering frame.
"You want my dick, now, don't you, bitch," he cackled. "You want my big old prick in your mouth, for awhile, then you want it in your pussy, right?"
Moaning, the young woman tried desperately to nod her head. The game was familiar to her, it had been played so often, and she knew that she had to respond correctly, or endure more of the brutal lashing he had just inflicted on her.
"Ohh, yes, yes," she said, tonelessly. "I want to suck you, Wilbur, I want to suck you hard, then be fucked by you. Yes, yes!"
He laughed nervously, moaning as he squeezed his groin. He nodded his head, and reached down then, twisting his pudgy fingers in her hair.
"Then you're gonna get it, baby," he snarled, pulling her up on her knees in front of him.
"Every God damn inch of my cock in your mouth and pussy, bitch!"
He pulled her head tight to his groin and she smelled the dank, thick scent of his masculine passion through the powder he had used on his flesh. His cock was rubbing against her cheek, then, thick, hot and hard as it throbbed in her face.
She moaned, allowing him to force her head around, so that the knob of his weapon was at her lips. She felt the heat of it pressing at her soft, sensual petals, and she sobbed as she slithered her tongue between her teeth to lick his tool.
"Ahh, yeah, cunt, just like that," Wilbur cackled fiercely. "Right, bitch, right!"
She gulped down her nausea, then, and slowly worked her tongue around the head of his shaft in a lazy, lashing circle. She could feel him jerking spasmodically on his feet, and hear his dark, grunting moans of pleasure as they escaped his lips.
"God, that's the way, baby," he moaned. "Now, lick it up and down, bitch, work that mouth of yours all over my prick, you cunt!"
Slowly, Shelly began to lick and kiss her way down to the root of the quaking prong. She slithered her tongue over his meat, savagely, and took harsh, tearing bites with her even, white teeth.
Wilbur moaned in ecstasy, his body twisting and turning in pleasure as his wife continued to service his throbbing flesh. He felt her tongue slithering through the hair that covered his balls, then, and he cried out in delight.
"Yeah, bitch, right there," he hissed. "Suck them, kiss them, you whore!"
One of his hands still held her tightly by the hair, while the other was kneading and massaging her trembling breasts. In turn, he tweaked and pinched both nipples, laughing at her jerks and spasms of pain, while she continued to lather his balls.
He squeezed one soft, warm globe savagely in his fingers, then, and thrust his groin tightly at her mouth. She gulped, allowing him to shove the taut, hairy bag that contained his stones into her moist, warm chamber.
She felt the huge, hot balls quivering inside her mouth, throbbing with a horrible and demanding greed. Shutting her eyes tightly, she locked her lips around the quaking stones and began to suck on them, intently.
Wilbur groaned fiercely as his wife slashed at his balls with her tongue, knocking them back and forth between her warm, sucking cheeks. He trembled on his legs, then, for the powerful roaring in his groin was growing worse with every passing second.
"Ahh, yeah, that's it, whore, suck me," he whispered fiercely. "Suck those balls, baby, suck them good and hard, you fucking cunt!"
He twisted and turned her head by the hair, tugging on it viciously. His balls crashed about her mouth, and her tongue stabbed and lathered them, ruthlessly.
She could feel the stones quaking against the roof and walls of her moist, warm cavity, then. Feel the hot, churning blood and semen that boiled inside the bag.
His prick was still rubbing back and forth against her cheek, huge and hot, pulsating with the angry need that was tearing through his rod. Her breasts, aching already from his ruthless caressing, were even more painful to her now.
He jerked spasmodically, groaned and rocking on his heels as she continued to suck on the imprisoned stones. She blew warm, trembling currents of air across his flesh, now, and made vibrating sounds in her throat to stimulate him.
For Wilbur, this was complete ecstasy. His wife, bound and kneeling in front of him, forced to suck his balls while he fondled her breasts, this was pure delight. He laughed in a high- pitched, cackling voice, and began to tug on her hair, anxiously.
"The prick, baby, work on the prick," he groaned. "Ohh, cunt, I want my cock in your mouth, now. I want every inch of my prick, deep in your throat, whore!"
There was little that she could do, of course, aside from respond to his demands. He tore her head back from his balls and shook her fiercely by the hair.
"You want to suck it, don't you, bitch?" he growled. "You want my cock in your mouth, now, don't you, you worthless little slut!"
She moaned, the taste of his sweaty fever and chock-like powder in her mouth and nodded wildly. "Yes," she gasped. "Yes, yes, let me suck you, Wilbur, suck you, now!"
Laughing in evil triumph, Wilbur Pickering thrust his shaft at his wife's warm, moist lips and moaned as she curled them around the rim of his hot, aching helmet.
The cock was stiff and pounding as it entered her mouth. She felt it scrape across the roof of her mouth, then slither ruthlessly into her throat. Desperately she relaxed the slender passage to allow the huge rod access to her velvet sleeve.
She gulped frantically as the hard, hot prong disappeared into her throat. She could feel it beating fiercely against her tender, inner walls, raging with passion and greed.
Wilbur moaned, pulling her head tight to his groin, then, burying the hot tool to the hilt in her soft, warm chamber. He bucked against her savagely, then, and shivered as a harsh, tearing tremor of passion ripped through his groin once more.
"Ohh, Jesus, cunt, suck me," he moaned fiercely. "Suck that cock, whore, suck it good and hard! Get it ready for your pussy, bitch, get it good and ready!"
He pushed and pulled on her hair, then, sliding his prick in and out of her helpless mouth.
She choked and gagged, trying hard to breathe as the fat prong rode along her tight, slender passage, and slammed ruthlessly against her throat walls.
The prick was warm and quivering in her mouth, and she worked her lips and tongue around it, lashing as hard as she could, sucking with all the passion she could summon.
To her, the only thing that was important, was bringing him to the fastest climax possible.
She only wanted him finished as soon as she could, nothing else was important.
She locked her lips and teeth around the root of his shaft and dragged the even white teeth along the length of his spear. Wilbur sobbed in pleasure, shivering violently as he felt her tongue stabbing grimly at the knob of his prong.
His fat, soft belly crashed into her forehead as he thrust his cock into her mouth. She moaned as he clutched her head to his stomach, shuddering uncontrollably as the rippling waves of savage need roared through the length of his prong.
"God, you can suck," he whispered harshly. "You can suck real fine, bitch, you can suck me real fine anytime, can't you, whore?"
Her eyes were shut, and she was hardly paying any attention to him as he bucked the prick in and out of her mouth. She had heard it all many, many times before, and the insults no longer affected her.
Wilbur began to tremble and jerk spasmodically, then, and she could sense that his climax was coming to a moment of eruption. She could feel the cock pounding in her mouth, throbbing with incredible power, and she braced herself fro what would come next.
"Ohh, bitch, now you're gonna get it," he cackled savagely. "Now you're gonna get what you want, baby! Ohh, yeah, gonna get the fucking you need!"
He pushed her away from him, then, and she yelped in pain as she fell backwards, landing hard on her shoulders. He quickly knelt down and untied her ankles, riding his fat, pudgy fingers upward over her thighs when he finished.
She sobbed, not bothering to try and escape him. She shivered in disgust and pain as he pushed her. thighs apart, crudely, and began to . inch his body upward between them.
"Ohh, shit, baby, I need to fuck you," he laughed breathlessly. "Do I need to fuck you, now, bitch! Ohh, God, I swear I do!"
As always, Wilbur was nearly mindless as he settled himself, at last, between her warm, moist limbs. She could feel the cold, flabby dampness of his hips between her legs, the sickening texture of his flesh pressed tightly against her supple limbs.
His fingers were greedily clutching at her pussy lips, tugging and pulling on the soft, delicate petals in a rude fashion. She winced in pain as he pinched them harshly, trying to force the lubricant to begin flowing in her cave.
"Tell me how bad you want it, bitch," he growled at her. "Tell me how bad you want to be fucked by me right now, you whore!"
She nearly screamed in revulsion, but forced herself to respond. "Ohh, give it to me, Wilbur," she said, gagging on the words. "Give it to me, now, please, now!"
"Who's your man, baby?" he cackled.
"Who's your big, hard man?"
"You, Wilbur," she sobbed in shame and disgust. "You are my big, hard man!"
Wilbur Pickering's flesh seemed on fire as he brought his prick to the wet, slippery petals that guarded her channel. He moaned fiercely, the raging need consuming him as he pushed his hot, throbbing weapon between them.
She sobbed as she felt the man entering her. The cruel, vicious penetration was the one thing she could never get used to. No matter how often she submitted to his lust, or how many times he took her, she still felt the same horrible sense of degradation.
Wilbur, of course, cared nothing about such feelings on his wife's part. All that mattered to him was the warm, silken texture of her cave, the way her cunt muscles gripped and kneaded his plunging spear so expertly.
He jerked spasmodically as he thrust into her, driving the huge, hot pole of his manhood as deep into her tunnel as he could. Groaning fiercely, he slid his hands under her buttocks then, then dug his fingers deep into her soft, spongy half moons.
His cock pulsating ruthlessly inside of her, Shelly turned her head to one side as Wilbur ground the prong against her inner walls. She could feel the steady beat of his blood racing through his shaft, and the rippling heat that consumed him.
His cock was pounding with lust, by this time, and she could be thankful, at least that his cruel and vicious assault would not last much longer. By this time, she knew, Wilbur would be almost to the point of explosion and it would all be over soon.
There was still, however, much to be endured. His fingers kneaded her buttocks painfully, tugging and pulling on the soft, delicate buns in a heartless manner.
Wilbur liked to hear and feel her in pain as he fucked her. He enjoyed it when she gasped in agony, or tremble with the stinging effects of suffering.
He pulled his cock back, then slammed into her savagely, driving his hard, long pole into her cunt as hard and fast as he possibly could. She gasped in pain, her head twisting back and forth on the carpet from the affects of his assault.
"Yeah, that's it, whore, scream a little," he cackled, grinding his cock inside of her once more. "Yell, baby, yell for all you're worth! I love it, I do!"
The fat man began to pump his cock in and out of her in a harsh, brutal manner. He took long, hard strokes, calculated to inflict as much pain on the young woman as he could during his act of passion.
She lay beneath him, moaning as he powered his tool into her, her poor, aching pussy on fire with the savagery of his attack.
Again and again he slammed his prick into the young woman's cunt. He laughed as he rode the hot, long pole into her damp, tight channel. Her cunt muscles were flexing wildly around his prong, now, kneading it in an involuntary fashion.
"You little whore, don't you love it?" he cackled. "You love getting fucked like this, right bitch? Just love it, whore, right? Tell me, damn it, tell me!"
With his massive bulk crushing her down, she could hardly breathe, much less speak, but she knew she had to respond. She moaned, whispering in pain.
"Yes, ohh, I love it, God, I love it," she winced. "Ohh, it's so good, so very good!"
Wilbur knew she was lying, but that only made him happier, and more excited. He grunted in pleasure and began to pump his cock in and out of her pussy with even more power and force than before.
Each stroke that he took was more vicious than the last. His prick was like some huge, hot prong ripping into her pit, and she could feel a few of the tender blood vessels inside her chamber ripping from the friction of his ruthlessly driving spear.
Again and again the cock powered into the depths of her channel. Her poor, ravaged cave was becoming numb with pain, throbbing so relentlessly, that she could hardly think of anything else but the hurt she was enduring.
Frantically, she tried to used her cunt muscles to urge him on, kneading and squeezing his prick determinedly to bring him to a climax. He laughed in delight and ground his belly against hers, kissing and licking her face in satisfaction.
"That's it, pig, help me," he laughed grimly. "I'm almost there, slut, almost."
His rhythm and pace grew more frantic, now. He began to pump his weapon in and out of her helpless passage with a frenzied greed. She could feel the prong growing thicker and hotter as he slammed it into her, reaching the moment she wanted to have him arrive at.
Locking her cunt muscles fiercely around the plunging shaft, she held onto the pounding weapon, desperately. His fingers were buried deep in the soft flesh of her buttocks, now, and his gasping had reached a tenor of exquisite agony.
"Ohhh, baby, yeah, yeah," he moaned, slamming into her once more. "There, bitch, you got me right there. Yeah, cunt, now, gonna come in you right now, whore!"
Slamming into her ruthlessly, she groaned as his belly mashed against hers, parting again with a loud, wet plop. She shut her eyes tightly once more, and turned her head to the side as she felt him reaching his orgasm.
He was moaning savagely as the first hot bolts of come began to tear upward along his tool. She felt the cock rippling inside her tunnel, throbbing with the impact of his release and she sighed in relief as he began to jerk uncontrollably on top of her.
The hot, thick cream of his semen spurted from his shaft and splashed against her inner walls with a searing force. She could feel the cock rocking back and forth inside of her then, and hear his gasps of satisfaction as the orgasm consumed him.
Pumping ruthlessly, he slid the spurting tool in and out of her pussy until he had emptied his loins in her chamber. She felt the seed filling her pit to over-flowing, and she sobbed as the sticky, hot flood of his passion dripped out of her pit.
Several more times he powered into her, determined to wrench every tremor of passion out of his loins. At last he groaned in pleasure and spent satisfaction and buried his prick to the hilt inside of her for the last time.
He lay on top of her, shuddering, his mouth pressed against the side of her face, kissing her wetly. She did not have the strength to fight his hunger anymore, and lay there, submissively as the last of his violent lust was exhausted.
When he rolled off of her again, she jerked in a last, lingering spasm of pain and drew herself up into a tiny ball. Her eyes were shut tight and she was weeping softly, while her husband, impatient with her, began to dress.
"Come on, cunt," he snarled, untying her hands. "We got to catch that bus."
Groaning, she pushed herself to her feet and stumbled into the bathroom. She slipped into the shower and turned it own, allowing the ice cold water to jar her senses. Grimly she bathed, grateful for at least the fact that she wouldn't have to endure his passion at least for a couple of more days.
It was the little things that you were thankful for, she thought bitterly.
CHAPTER THREE
Smokey Charles picked Brennen up about five miles outside of New London. He looked tired, dirty and beat. He should have. He was walking, his jeep now in the hands of Red Culver.
Smokey was driving the ancient bus he had handled back and forth across the wide-open desert for years. When he saw Brennen in the distance, he felt his gut tighten.
Pulling up a hundred feet or so beyond the slow walking man, he threw the brakes on and the bus lurched to a violent, jarring stop, upsetting his passengers.
Wilbur Pickering leaned forward in his seat, snarling at the grizzled driver. "What the hell are you stopping for, you old fool?" he growled.
Smokey ignored him. He was staring into the side mirror, watching the jerky progress of Brennen, carrying his gear, moving swiftly toward the parked bus.
Smokey shook his head as Brennen reached the driver's side of the bus. "God damn, I told you not to play with that bastard," he spat disgustedly. "What happened?"
Brennen attempted to appear good-natured. "Lost my jeep in a bet with him," he laughed, sourly. "Should have had that beer with you, Smokey, would have taken the piss out of me, and I might have been less of a bad ass."
Smokey moaned. "God damn, Brennen, you ain't got the brains to save a mule," he muttered. "Come on board, can't walk all the way to your place."
Wilbur Pickering grimaced as Brennen walked into the bus. He shook his head, angrily and shouted at the driver. "What is this? This is a private bus."
Smokey gave him a cool stare. "Ain't nothing private, Wilbur, unless I says so," he said evenly. "Can't leave a man walking in this heat, it ain't Christian."
"Damn you, Charles, I hired you for a private journey to L.A. I did not expect to be picking up every bum that's walking down the highway."
Brennen smiled and tipped his hat. "Sorry to bother you, Mister Pickering," he said, graciously. "But I'm afraid I haven't any other way to get home."
"That's not my problem," snarled Wilbur Pickering. "You people think you can get everything, just because you're on welfare or something."
"Brennen ain't on welfare, Wilbur," Smokey growled. "And I'll take it kindly if you don't insult my friends. Now he can ride and so can you, or you can walk, I just don't give a damn, understand?"
"Take it easy, Wilbur," Shelly said, squeezing his arm. "He's not going to bother us. Let the man ride, for Christ's sake."
Wilbur Pickering glared at his wife, but realized that she was right. He suddenly felt very much like a fool, arguing with all three of them, so he closed his mouth.
Brennen sat down in the seats across from the driver and Smokey put the bus into gear again. Brennen stared out the front window of the bus, thinking about what he'd lost.
Damn fool thing to do, he thought, grimly. He'd risked everything on a bet, and now he had no idea how he was going to make it through the year. He had finished cursing himself for being an idiot, by now, though, and was simply trying to figure things.
"I swear, Brennen, you're just a hard head, that's all," Smokey sighed. "You go dealing with Red Culver and lose your ass, I can't believe it."
"Don't be hard on me, Smokey," Brennen chuckled. "I've been doing that all morning."
"Somebody ought to take you over their knee and give you a good whipping," Smokey spat. "That's the damnest, fool thing I ever heard of."
Brennen chuckled as he listened to Smokey railing at him. He felt a bit embarrassed, as he should, but mostly it warmed his heart to have someone that angry about his loss.
Well, you screwed it, he told himself. Now you got to think of a way out of it. Damn, but that bull would have been nice. Should have known that one couldn't never been rode.
Should have known that, all right.
To take his mind off it, he turned around in his seat and stared, smiling, at the people in back of him. They both looked grim, and it amused him to wonder why.
The man, Wilbur Pickering was easy to figure. A small time banker, fat, nervous, never willing to take a chance, he was a man that would live his life in fear of living itself. The woman was another story. She was not exceptionally pretty, in fact, most men might call her plain. Her face was a mask, etched with haunted memories, Brennen thought. Still, she was appealing, as if there was something waiting to be revealed, or released.
He stared at them for a few minutes before Wilbur Pickering began to snort in nervous anger and shake his head, disgustedly. He pointed his finger at the man.
"What are you looking at?" he snapped. "We're not on show here."
Brennen smiled. "Sorry, just interested in my fellow passengers, that's all."
"Well, they are not interested in you," Wilbur huffed. "Now leave us alone."
Shelly smiled at Brennen coolly. "Don't be offended," she murmured. "He's just up-tight.
He gets that way sometimes. Doesn't mean anything by it."
"Didn't think he really did," Brennen chuckled. "Most people don't."
He turned around again and resumed staring out the window. Smokey was talking and spitting out the window in an almost rhythmic manner, amusing Brennen greatly.
"God damn last run, Brennen, and I'm glad," he snorted. "Be happy to get the hell out of this business. I'm tired of running assholes back and forth."
He spoke loud enough for the others to hear, and Brennen chuckled happily. "I know what you mean, Smokey. Now if I could only learn not to be one of them."
"You're just proud, Brennen, that's your problem," Smokey growled. "You just got to bull- head your way all the time. Think you don't need nobody's help."
"Help is what you do for yourself, Smokey," Brennen countered.
"Shit. You're gonna learn one of these day's, Brennen," the grizzled driver warned. "Learn that you can't just count on yourself all the time."
"Life's like that, Smokey," Brennen sighed. "You only got one shadow."
"Yeah, well, you wait until you need a damn hand, Brennen, you'll learn."
Brennen said nothing, but he was thinking that he could sure use a hand right then. He'd lived most of his live on his own, and had always been able to take care of himself. But he was beginning to wonder if being alone was really the solution to a man's problems.
Brennen didn't usually waste a lot of time worrying about deep thinking. He went out and did whatever had to be done, and that was that. Troubling his mind rarely helped him, for it was all too confusing to sort out, he figured.
All he knew was that he was broke, now, with a long winter coming, and no stud bull. If he had his choice, he'd have stayed in New London and gotten drunk.
Smokey took the bus easy through the winding road as it climbed into the mountains. The road was paved, but uncared for. Election year was one away, and they hadn't paved it since the last one.
It was near mid-day when they reached 'Bad Pass', a narrow stretch of road no longer used since they built the new highway thirty miles to the north. The road was pitted and rough, and he had to slow to thirty as he climbed through the pass.
Everyone inside the bus, including the driver was lazy with the heat at that time. The sun was beating down, mercilessly, and the inside of the bus, despite the air-conditioning, was sweltering.
As they pulled over the rim of the pass, Smokey was blinking with a bit of sleep, and hardly noticed the huge bolder that was directly in the center of the road.
He blinked his eyes, wildly and yanked on the air-brakes, throwing everybody hard against the seat in front of them, as he squealed to a stop.
"Jesus Christ," snarled Wilbur Pickering. "What the hell is it, now?"
Smokey shook his head and spat. "God damn slide, I imagine. Got to move it."
He was just getting out of the drivers seat when they heard a shout from outside. It was a voice that was cold and mean, full of nothing but serious intent.
"Just walk out peaceable," the voice growled. "And look scared."
Smokey darted a glance at Brennen. "What the hell is this?" he wondered.
Glass in the window just behind him shattered, followed by the report of a pistol. "I said get out now," the voice snarled. "Before I lose my patience."
Quickly, the three men and the woman left the bus. The stood huddled in front of the door, their eyes wide with confusion and worry. Around them they could sense the presence of others, but as yet, they were unseen.
"You, the old bastard, get up there and get the money," snarled the voice.
"What money you talking about?" Smokey growled. "Ain't got no money on this run."
"Don't jawbone me, old man," snarled the voice again. "I'm getting anxious."
"Jesus, you damn fool, you flagged down the wrong bus," Smokey laughed. "Payroll ain't coming until three days from now, you idiot."
There was a brief silence, then the voice grew even more demanding. "Keep it up, you old fart, and you'll have an extra asshole in your forehead. Now get the money."
Smokey turned to Brennen and winked, then nodded with a sigh. "All right, I guess I'll just have to prove it to you, won't I?" he grumbled.
As he climbed into the bus again,, he glanced quickly out the windows. He could see, as could Brennen, three distinct spots surrounding them, were the sun was reflecting off metal. Keeping his eyes on one of the reflections, the old man reached under the driver's seat, carefully.
Brennen turned and shook his head. "Smokey, don't do it," he whispered frantically.
But the old man was already up-right with a pistol in his hand. He had one moment to think about it, then the glass shattered about his head and he was flung backward out of the bus, as a gun shot echoed in the air.
Shelly Pickering screamed in horror and Wilbur Pickering jumped back in shock. Brennen stood stock-still as he gazed down at the twisted body of the old bus driver.
"Who else wants a taste, God damn it," the voice growled. "We ain't playing, folks."
"There isn't any money," growled Brennen. "You killed him for nothing." He bent down over Smokey and shook his head, grimly. When he stood up again, a man and two younger men were walking down from the rocks, pistols pointed at them.
Shelly Pickering felt her blood run cold as she saw the three of them approach. "Jesus," she whispered fiercely. "I might have known."
Frank Mims grinned at his daughter. "Well, kiss my ass," he laughed. "If it ain't my little girl. Fancy meeting you here, baby daughter."
"You son of a bitch," Shelly hissed. "What the hell are you doing?"
Brennen stood up again and glared at Frank Mims. "You didn't have to kill him." I Frank snorted. "Hell, Mister, he was gonna shoot us," he cackled. "What the hell am I supposed to do, take a bullet and say thank you very much?"
Billy and Dirk Mims were already searching the bus. Dirk cursed after a few moments and shook his head. "Ain't there, Daddy," he grumbled.
"Of course it isn't," muttered Wilbur Pickering. "This is a private run, one that I hired to take Shelly and I to L.A. You've picked the wrong bus to rob, fool."
Frank glared at him. "Now, Wilbur, I don't take kindly to being called that," he growled, suddenly back-handing the man across the mouth.
Wilbur yelped as the hard, gnarled hand slammed across his cheek, throwing him against the bus. He sobbed a bit, his fear rising by a hundred percent.
Frank turned and glared at his daughter. "You, bitch, you and I got to talk," he snarled. He grabbed hold of her hair and began to push her into the bus. He turned and hissed to his sons. "Sit them down over there, while I jaw with your sister!"
Inside the bus, he pushed Shelly into the back and sat her down, heavily. He leaned against the back of one seat and grinned at her, evenly.
"Come a long way, ain't you baby girl?" he said, coldly.
"You're a fool, Daddy," she snapped. "You always have been."
He slapped her hard across the cheek, knocking her against the bathroom door. "Talk that way to me, cunt, I'll straighten you out," he snarled.
"What are you going to do, Daddy, fuck me?" she laughed bitterly.
He grinned slowly. "We'll have that talk, all right," he murmured. "But first I'm gonna teach you some manners, you always seemed to be in need of that, don't you?"
He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his belt and before she could get away, slipped one over her wrist, fed the other around the bar of the back seat, and locked it around her other wrist.
She glared at him, pulling helplessly on her shackled hands. "Let me out of this, you bastard," she growled. "I mean it, I'm not your property anymore."
"You'll always be my little girl," Frank chuckled, running his hand through her hair.
He took hold of the strands and yanked her head back, savagely. She winced in pain, then gagged as he clasped his mouth down hard over hers. She felt his tongue stabbing against her teeth, lewdly lashing back and forth across them.
She felt one of his hands cupping over her breast, kneading it through her blouse and she moaned in sickened disgust. She yanked on the shackled even more violently, then, and Frank Mims cackled as he kissed her, squeezing her breast even harder.
His mouth was wet and slimy as it moved over hers. She felt his tongue prying her teeth apart, and as he slithered it between them, she bit down hard on the offending spear.
Frank Mims yelped in pain and drew his head back from hers. "You little whore," he snarled. "God damn, I'll teach you to do that!"
He slapped her hard again, lashing at her cheek savagely with the calloused palm of his hand. Her head fell to one side of her shoulders and he struck her once more.
His hands now took hold of the zipper at the back of her dress, and he pulled it down with a vicious tug. She gasped as she felt the back of the garment opening, and his fingers kneading the flesh of her smooth, creamy shoulders.
"Little, God damn slut," Frank snarled. "I'm damn tired of your uppity ways. I'm gonna remind you of who you are and where you came from, bitch!"
With that, he took hold of the folds of her dress and tore it neatly apart. Shelly Pickering- felt as if she was living a nightmare as she felt her father ripping and tearing her dress from her body, leaving her only in her bra and panties.
He jerked her around again by the shoulders and leered at her heaving breasts encased in her frilly bra, and her loins throbbing against the tight, bikini panties that she was wearing.
He smiled, grimly. "Yeah, you still look good from the neck down," he chuckled. "Still got that lean, tight body, don't you, honey?"
"You're insane, Daddy," Shelly hissed. "You can't do this, you just can't."
Frank Mims shook his head, slowly. "Honey, I can do any God damn thing I want to," he cackled, digging his hand into the front of her bra.
She screamed as he tore it away from her, exposing her small pert mounds to his greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he watched the nipples expanding, growing taut and hard, pink with the fear that was racing through his daughter.
Shelly saw his eyes on her naked boobs and she tried to turn away again. Just as ruthlessly as before, he yanked her around, and slid his hand down over her belly.
"God, I ain't had a woman in awhile," he moaned: "A good, long while!"
"Jesus, Daddy, my husband is out there,"! she hissed, frantically.
"I don't give a good, God damn," he cackled. "You're mine, now, bitch."
He curled his fingers into the waist band of her panties then, and as she screamed in horror and shame, he ripped them from her hips in one swift, harsh motion.
She gasped as she felt herself completely exposed to her father, now. The awful, painful memories of his brutality returned in force, and she whimpered softly as the man tossed her tattered undergarment aside and leered at her hungrily again.
"Please, Daddy, don't," she whispered, tearing that galled her coming to her eyes. "God, no, Daddy, don't do this, please!"
Frank Mims began to laugh once again, shaking his head as he absently massaged his groin. "Shut up, for Christ's sake," he growled. "You always were a whiner."
He cupped his hand beneath one tiny, quivering breast and squeezed it harshly. Shelly moaned as she felt his fingers digging into her fleshy globe, his thumb rubbing back and forth across her nipple, roughly.
"Just as sweet as ever, ain't they, honey?" Frank laughed. "Always did like these tiny little tits of yours, just right for a hand or mouth!"
Outside the bus, his two sons were glaring at the two men in front of them. Wilbur Pickering looked nervously at the bus and pulled on his tie, groaning softly.
"Don't worry, asshole," Dirk Mims muttered. "Daddy's just schooling his little daughter, that's all. Just giving her a little of what she needs."
As he and his brother laughed at the man's discomfort, Frank Mims was forcing his daughter back on the rear seat, pushing her against the side of the bus, hungrily.
His free hand was at her thighs, now, trying to force them apart, while he continued to fondle and caress her trembling boobs. She sobbed, clasping her legs as tightly together as possible, struggling as best she could, with her shackled hands.
"You don't settle down, bitch, I'm gonna have to hurt you," Frank snarled harshly.
"Leave me alone, Daddy," the girl sobbed. "Jesus, please, please leave me alone!"
Frank Mims laughter was cruel and vicious as he wedged his hand down between his daughter's smooth, moist thighs. He took hold of one nipple between his thumb and forefinger, then, and pinched it savagely, making her nearly scream in pain.
"Open them up, whore," he growled. "Or I'll twist it off, God damn it!"
The pain was so intense, and his voice so determined, that the young woman knew she had no choice but to do as he commanded. Moaning, she relaxed the tension in her legs, allowing his hand to slide down between the soft, buttery limbs.
He sighed in pleasure, forcing them apart a little more, and cupped his hand over her wet, warm mound. She groaned as she felt the fingers kneading her hillock, toying with her cunt hair, rubbing harshly against her vaginal lips.
At the same time, he was bending his mouth to hers, once more, and clasping his free hand over her breast as before. She sobbed as she felt the greedy digits digging into the soft, warm globe, pinching the nipple as cruelly as ever.
His tongue was greedy and fierce, lashing at her teeth to pry them apart. She felt the wet, sloppy petals crushing down over her own, succulent lips, and she gagged at the sour taste of his mouth and the stench of his breath.
As his tongue slithered between her teeth and began to lash at her own, she felt his fingers exploring her loins with a fevered intensity. She winced as he captured her pussy lips between them, and rolled them back and forth in a teasing fashion.
"Getting wet already, ain't you, baby?" he laughed, savagely. "Damn, you always did get hot and wet in a hurry, didn't you?"
She jerked spasmodically, for his pinching caress was painful and even worse, degrading.
He was sitting on one leg, now, and through his jeans, she could feel the hardness of his tool growing rapidly.
"Damn, getting hot and hard, baby," Frank Mims cackled. "My little girl is getting her Daddy all excited, just like she used to."
"God, Daddy... please... don't," stammered the young woman, fearfully. "Please... Daddy...
not... not here! God, no, not... not here... like this!"
Frank Mims ignored his daughter's breathless pleading. It made no difference to him now, where he was, for the throbbing need that was boiling in his groin was all that was important to him, then.
Her pussy was damp and slippery, and a steady pulse beat of heat flowed from within her, baking his fingers with an enticing warmth. Groaning as he massaged her slippery mound, he ran his mouth hungrily over hers, kissing and lathering her lips with his tongue.
"Ummm, we ain't had any fun in a good long time, have we, baby?" he whispered harshly.
"Bet you been dying for you Daddy's prick, hug, bitch!"
"You bastard, you son of a bitch," she sobbed. "Don't, damn it, don't!"
Frank laughed again and pinched her soft, velvety cunt lips between his fingers, while he moved his mouth downward over her smooth, elegant throat. She gasped as she felt his teeth nipping at her, hungrily, his tongue lashing at her creamy flesh.
The bus was hot and stifling, now, and the stench of sweat hung heavy in the air. She sobbed as she felt her father trying to probe the entrance of her cave with his fingers, ruthlessly twisting and turning them against her moist opening.
As his lips reached the tips of her breasts, she screamed. At the same time, he succeeded in forcing two fingers beyond the opening of her cunt, slithering them hard and fast into the damp, hot tunnel of her loins.
Now, Shelly threw back her head and screamed in shame and horror. Her father locked his teeth around one nipple and bit hard, twisting it between them to silence her.
"Keep quiet, whore," he growled. "Or I'll make sure you can't walk for a week!"
He bit down hard on the nipple once more, and the pain shot through her like a knife, making her poor, imprisoned nugget tingling with a dull, throbbing hurt.
"Ohh, please, Daddy," she sobbed, quietly. "Don't hurt me like this, please, don't, Daddy, don't!"
"Then shut up, whore," he snapped, slamming his fingers brutally into her cunt once more.
"Learn to keep your mouth shut, bitch!"
Whimpering, the young woman tried to relaxed her vaginal walls as her father's fingers ruthlessly probed the soft, damp sleeve. He twisted and turned them against her aching inner walls, rubbing the silken flesh, briskly with the offending prongs.
His tongue lashed at her nipples, wildly, stabbing and darting at them greedily, enjoying the sweet taste of her young flesh, as he sucked on the poor, trapped nubs.
His free hand wandered over her body, greedily, kneading and caressing her at will. She felt the hand slithering down under her taut, firm buttocks and she gasped as he dug his fingers into the pert, spongy half moons.
"Still got a sweet ass, don't you, bitch?" he cackled. "Always wondered what it would be like to fuck that little asshole, you know?"
She moaned, jerking uncontrollably as she felt the fingers slithering up and down along her taut, moist anal cleft. She felt the digits sinking deeper into the warm valley, pointedly probing at the tight dot of her rectal entrance.
Shelly screamed softly as she realized her father's intent. She felt the probing digits growing more insistent, pushing at her rectal dot, demandingly.
At the same time, his other fingers were pumping back and forth inside her pussy tunnel, twisting and turning in a ruthless manner, trying to stimulate her, crudely.
Frank Mims moaned as he rubbed his groin back and forth along the slim, supple limb of his daughter's thigh. Even through his jeans, he could sense the softness of her flesh, and the enticing warmth of her skin inviting his own.
He gasped thickly, sucking on her breast as if in anxious hunger. "Ahh, baby, I want you so bad," he chuckled. "Damn, I'm glad you came by, bitch!"
His finger was now more demanding in its probing. He pushed hard against her warm, unyielding dot, and the young woman winced in savage pain as she felt him brutally penetrating her bum with the hard, thick digit.
Ruthlessly, Frank twisted and turned his finger against her bum walls. He pushed hard, grunting with the effort as he forced the finger deep into the young woman's anal tunnel, scraping it painfully against her delicate inner walls.
"You need an ass-fucking, bitch, that's for sure," he snarled. "That's what you been needing for years, you righteous little whore!"
Savagely, he jammed his finger as tight and deep into her asshole as he could. She gasped with the pain, sobbing as she felt the hard, cruel prong twisting against her inner walls, forcing them to widen beyond their natural circumference.
The vicious caress of his digit all but distracted her from anything else he was doing. As she felt him slowly pumping the finger in and out of her bum, she moaned in pain, hardly noticing it when he removed his fingers from her pussy to unzip his jeans.
She felt the sudden warmth of his cock against her thigh, however, and she gasped as he thrust his fingers back into her pussy, while rubbing his prick against her limb.
"Ahh, baby, little girl," Frank cackled. "Damn, been aching for this, all right!"
Frank Mims groaned fiercely as he rocked back and forth on her leg and almost rhythmically pumped his fingers in and out of her pussy and asshole. Each stroke was harsh and demanding, forcing her tunnels to expand, painfully.
It was obvious that he didn't give a damn for how she was feeling, for he drove his fingers at her relentlessly, scraping her inner flesh with the tips of them in a manner designed, it seemed to give her even more agony that before.
"I want you feeling it, bitch," he snarled coldly. "By Christ, you're gonna remember your Daddy, cunt, remember him real well, I promise you!"
Shelly gasped once again as he buried his finger to the hilt in her bottom and kneaded her buttock flesh with the rest of his hard, rough digits. She felt his fingers plunging deep into her cunt, as well, and her inner flesh felt as if someone were turning knifes against her inner walls.
"Daddy, God, no," she moaned breathlessly as she felt her father forcing her to turn around on the seat. "Please, Daddy, not this way, not this way, please!"
"Be quiet, you little slut," her father growled. "You been needing this kind of dicking for years. It's about time you got a prick where you deserve it, bitch!"
She was pressed against the side of the bus, now, her body pulled out along the rear seat.
Her wrists were strained tight against the handcuffs, and he was forcing her legs to part across the width of the narrow, hot seat.
She sobbed as she felt him squirming around behind her. He pulled his fingers from her pussy and quickly rubbed the sticky film of lubricant over his hard, throbbing shaft. When the cock was coated with her cream, he began to settled down between her thighs, jamming them even further apart with his knees.
She squealed in fear and shame as she felt her father inching up over her, spreading her buttocks apart with his hands. His fingers were dug deep into her fleshy buttocks, now, and she could feel the heat of his manhood resting between them.
"Ohh, yeah, this is gonna be fine, honey, just real fine, indeed," he cackled.
Shelly gasped thickly as she felt her father thrusting the hard, hot knob of his shaft against her tender rectal entrance. The huge prick was throbbing powerfully, a knot of flesh, determined to find the warm, moist damp of her anal channel.
Frank Mims moaned as he thrust forward, pushing the helmet of his tool into her bottom, he felt the taut, unyielding dot giving way, and felt his daughter's body jerking painfully, as he drove his cock into her narrow, slippery channel.
The pain of his invasion was worse than anything she had experienced in her short life so far. The cock felt like a huge, red hot iron barreling into her, despite the creamy lubricant her father had smeared on the pole.
She could not help but scream as he drove his weapon deep into her anal tunnel, grunting like an animal in the throes of mindless lust. She jerked violently as her father moaned his delight, for her suffering was so vivid and intense, that it wiped out every other thought she might have had in her mind.
Squealing with the agony, the young woman jerked violently on the rear seat and yanked her wrists desperately at the shackled. Frank Mims laughed at his daughter's suffering and ground his loins hard against the soft, warm curve of her behind.
"Ahh, damn that's nice and tight," he cackled. "Yeah, bitch, this is the way, this is what your Daddy wants from you, cunt!"
The young woman jerked spasmodically again as her father rocked his shaft back and forth inside of her. She felt him bucking and thrashing back and forth in her bottom, clearly unconcerned with anything but pleasing himself with her flesh.
"Ohh, God, Daddy, it's too big, too big," she moaned. "It hurts, Daddy, hurts!"
"Sure it does, bitch," Frank growled. "You got to relax, that's all, relax!"
As much as she hated to, the young woman tried desperately to release all the tension in her anal chamber as her father began to pump his cock in and out of her.
He took harsh, vicious strokes, twisting and turning ruthlessly with each one, driving his prick back and forth along the tender sleeve with increasing frenzy.
Frank Mims was nearly mindless in his lust as he fucked his daughter's poor, aching bum.
His cock was on fire with need, throbbing savagely in her bottom, and each time he slithered it back along her pit, he could feel her inner walls undulating in an involuntary, yet delightfully sensual manner.
He groaned and shivered, powering the huge, hot prong into her asshole, ruthlessly. Her bum was so hot and tight, that merely being inside of her was more than enough to stimulate him. The sheer intensity of his need was consuming him, by now.
"Oh, you sweet whore," he cackled, pumping the cock back and forth as hard as he could.
"Ohh, do you ever feel good, my little baby girl."
She hissed and sobbed, jerking uncontrollably in her agony. The cock was spreading her rectal sleeve apart, savagely, and the sheer agony almost made her faint.
Again and again Frank powered into her. His cock was huge, now, twice it's normal size, pounding with the greed and lust that were overwhelming the man. He began to thrust into her even harder, and from the savage beating in his flesh, the manner in which his tool was throbbing against her walls, she sensed he was about to come.
Frank dug his fingers into the soft, warm flesh of his daughter's bottom then. He loved the texture of her skin, the warm the silken softness of it. He kneaded and massaged the precious half moons, laughing as he drove relentlessly into her pit.
He could feel his cock burning up inside her tunnel. His balls were pounding with a power and tortured ache that was more enjoyable than anything he'd ever felt before. He lurched into Shelly's bum once more, burying his cock to the hilt in her tight, slender channel.
He was nearly breathless with greed by now.
He could feel his climax swirling in his groin. The hot come and boiling blood were reaching a feverish pitch in his flesh, about to explode with an unbelievable power and force.
"Ohh, you sweet bitch, you lovely cunt," he laughed, wildly. "Ummm, little darling, gonna come, Daddy's gonna come in your asshole, soon!"
Shelly lay there, enduring this shame and agony, feeling more alone and helpless than she ever had before in her life. This was the ultimate degradation, she thought, the final humiliation that would scar her forever.
As her father roared into her asshole so savagely, twisting and turning his prick along the length of her slim, taut sleeve, she felt as if she could die at that moment, only feeling happy that at last her agony was ended.
He pumped harder and faster, now, driving his prick into her like a piston, moaning as the pleasure reached a feverish pitch in his loins. His breathing was labored and forced, and his mouth was wet against the nape of her neck as he pumped into her.
The prick that was ravaging her tender asshole seemed to have swollen to an unbelievable size by now. As she shut her eyes, she could only feel it driving back and forth along her anal tube, twisting and turning in its frenzied greed.
She heard her father moaning wildly, the felt him bucking into her even harder. Something hot and wet spurted from his tool, suddenly, searing her delicate, damaged inner walls, and she sobbed as she realized he had finally reached his orgasm.
"Ohh, motherfuck, honey, coming good," Frank Mims cackled. "Damn, yeah, cunt! Your Daddy is coming real nice in his little baby's pit, all right. Damn, yeah!"
The man continued to powering the bursting prong into her again and again as he emptied his seed into her bottom. She sobbed, choking as she cried, feeling the ruthless shaft driving into her. Harder and faster he slammed into her bum, until at last he gasped a final time, and thrust into her as far as possible.
He leaned over her, then, shuddering with the lingering spasms of his release, feeling his daughter's body quivering with her crying beneath him. His cock was still hard, his passion spent. But his anger was only beginning.
CHAPTER FOUR
Brennen's face was impassive as he listened to the screams and begging that came from the bus during Frank's assault on his daughter. His mind was on other things.
From the looks of the two young men in front of him, he felt a thick cloud of danger hovering over him. There was trouble coming, he could smell it.
There is a certain odor to trouble, he knew.
A certain, distinct scent. It's the rank smell of sweat, and the tingling aroma of unleashed passion.
Brennen had lived long enough to know that passion did not merely have to be confined to that of sexual desire. Lust could take other forms, he knew. Such as a craving for blood, the spilling of it, that was what worried him.
The two young men were harshly evil-looking in their features. They listened to the attack, their faces showing no trace of concern or embarrassment.
What might shame other sons, seemed only to stimulate these to young men. They grinned fiercely, and licked there lips as if they yearned for a part of the action.
"You don't look so good, big man," Dirk Mims chuckled as he gazed at Brennen.
"He's trying to act mean, Dirk," his brother cackled sharply.
"He don't look so mean," sneered Dirk. "Are you mean, big man?"
Brennen smiled thinly. "I mind my own business," he said, evenly.
"That's good, big man, because if you didn't, I'd have to do something about it."
Beside him, Wilbur Pickering was trembling violently, unable to control his own fear and horror. The piercing wail of his wife's torment was unnerving him.
"Look at the fat man, Dirk," Billy Mims snickered. "He's getting a little green."
Dirk snorted. "What's the matter, fat boy, you worried about, your wife?"
He stepped forward then, poking Wilbur in his, massive belly with the barrel of his pistol.
"Don't be so bothered by it, fat man," he advised. "She's with family."
"Come now, you boys know me," Wilbur said, uneasily. "There's no need to hold a gun on me, you know that."
Dirk chuckled and turned to his brother again. "Listen to that, Billy, he's trying to be friends, ain't that neighborly?"
"I don't believe he's all that worried about Sis," Billy growled. "I think he's more anxious about what's gonna happen to his fat ass."
Dirk turned back to Wilbur, then. "That true, fat boy?" he snarled. "Is that really how you feel? You don't give a shit about my sister, is that it?"
"Boys, boys," the fat man gulped. "Please, you're talking about my wife."
Dirk spat in contempt. "Shit, I believe Billy's right, you turd," he hissed. He slammed Wilbur hard in the belly with the pistol and the fat man groaned in pain.
Brennen watched all this, making no move to go to the fat man's aid. If he was going to make a play, he knew, this wasn't the time or place for it.
Out of the corner of his eye, Dirk was watching him carefully and Brennen knew that like a snake, the young man was waiting for him to make a move, so he could strike.
Dirk turned away from the shuddering, groaning bulk of Wilbur Pickering, just as his father stepped down from the bus, zipping up his trousers. He waved the two boys away the men and glared at them.
"Quit moaning, Wilbur," he snapped. "Your wife needs tending."
"Mister Mims, please, we can't be any use to you," Wilbur moaned. "My God, we have no money, let us go on our way, Sir."
"Shut up, you miserable excuse for a man," spat the old man. "Shelly needs to be cleaned up, now get to it. You're trying my patience, you toad!"
He prodded Wilbur in the back to get him moving, and whimpering in a small voice, like a squeaking kitten, the fat man laboriously climbed the steps into the bus.
Brennen was kneeling beside Smokey Charles as he had before, and Frank Mim turned his suspicious eyes on the tall, lean man once more. He tapped Brennen lightly on the ankle with his boot.
"He's dead, Mister, ain't no use bothering with him anymore," he muttered.
"I'd like to get him out of the sun," Brennen said, quietly.
"Hell, you can bury the son of a bitch when we get where we're going," Frank laughed.
"Just don't try anything stupid, Mister."
"I'm not a fool," Brennen whispered. "I like living, I've gotten used to it."
"Well, that's mighty sensible of you, Mister," Frank chuckled. "That old fart thought the same way, he might not be singing with the angels, now."
He turned to his boys, then and shook his head, sourly. "You just had to kill him, didn't you," he barked, slapping Dirk hard across the face.
Dirk stumbled back, gasping in shock, holding his suddenly split lip. Blood seeped through his fingers, and there was murder in his eyes, though he did nothing.
"He was pulling a gun, Daddy," he snarled. "What'd you want me to do?"
"There's a whole lot of body on a man, asshole," his father snarled. "You don't always have to aim for the killing parts, you know."
"Fuck that, Daddy," Billy Mims growled. "What do we do now is the question."
Frank Mims snorted. "Don't you worry about that, boy," he spat. "I'll be thinking about something, you just do as you're told, understand?"
He waved his pistol at the two of them, and they climbed up into the bus. When they were inside, he turned to Brennen, gazing at him carefully.
"Now you listen close, Mister, if you want to stay alive," he said, evenly. "You're gonna follow me in this bus, understand? One wrong move, and I'll let Dirk do what he's been dying to do since he laid eyes on you."
Brennen nodded. "You won't get any trouble out of me," he sighed.
Frank Mims smiled. "That's real good, friend. I like a man that knows the game and how to play it. You just stand pat with your hand, and you'll be fine."
Brennen nodded and leaned over, picking up the strangely light body of Smokey Charles.
He carried it into the bus and laid it across the first to seats, then took his place behind the wheel.
As he started the engine, he glanced in the rear-view mirror. Directly behind him was Dirk Mims, his gun between Brennen's shoulder blades. In the seat behind Smokey's body, was his brother Billy.
In the back of the bus, he could see Wilbur Pickering and his wife. The man was sitting rigid on one side of the rear seat, his wife cowering against the other side.
It didn't look like the man was making any effort to comfort the young woman, and Brennen shook his head in distaste. Dirk poked him with the pistol he was holding and hissed at him to pay attention to the road.
The drive took about an hour. The sun was beating down fiercely and Brennen was sweating at the wheel, both from fear and the powerful heat. When they finally arrived at their destination, the tall, lean man had only a vague idea of where they were.
Set on the side of a gradually rising hill, was a small, wooden shack. At Frank Mims direction, Brennen pulled the bus to a stop behind the shack, hiding it from view.
He got up from the drivers seat and picked up Smokey's body again, gingerly stepping down onto the ground with it in his arms. Frank pointed toward the rise of the hill.
"You can bury him on the other side," he spat. "Dirk, you go with him."
As Brennen began to climb the hill, Billy was waving Wilbur Pickering and his wife down out of the bus. As Shelly passed, the young man patted her on the bottom.
"Good to see you again, Sis," he cackled. "Been a long time, ain't it?"
Shelly stiffened at the pat, but said nothing. She was walking with difficulty, her body still throbbing with the pain of her father's rape.
She leaned against the side of the bus, while Wilbur stared nervously at Frank Mims.
"What... what are you going to do with us, Mister Mims?" he asked.
"I don't know yet," Frank snarled. "But you'll be the first to know, Wilbur."
He pointed toward the weather-beaten shack and hissed at them to get inside. As they walked around the front of the tiny structure, Frank and Billy behind them, the young man whispered intently to his father.
"What was she like, Daddy?" he asked, anxiously. "Still as good as ever?"
Frank glared at him. "Never mind that, boy," he snapped, then he grinned. "You be real good, though, and I might let you find out for yourself!"
The young man giggled happily and nodded. When the two people were inside the shack, he and his father went to work setting up a camp fire. They leaned close together, talking softly in voices that could not be heard by the two in the shack.
"What do they want?" moaned Wilbur Pickering. "What is going on here?"
Shelly was seated on a small, narrow bunk, leaning against the wall. "Stop worrying about it, Wilbur," she moaned. "You'll only get upset."
"I am upset," he snapped. "I'm worried to death. They're crazy, your family!"
"Yes, aren't they," she spat. "How observant of you, dear husband."
"Very funny, Shelly," he growled. "It's all right for you, you're their flesh and blood. They won't harm you. But I'm a different story."
She glared at him coldly. "You bastard, what the hell do you think happened to me in that bus?" she spat. "They don't give a damn about me, either, Wilbur!"
"Oh, God, God, what have I gotten myself into," he sobbed pacing back and forth. "I never should have married you, I swear, I knew it from the start."
"Would you like me to tell them that, Wilbur?" she laughed bitterly. "I'm sure that would make a lot of difference to my father, to hear that."
"You keep your mouth shut, bitch," he snarled. "I'm in enough trouble over you. You just keep quiet and let me do the talking, that's all."
Shelly sighed, heavily. "Talk all you want, Wilbur," she murmured. "You were always very good at talking, you love the sound of your own voice, so much."
He crossed the room quickly and grabbed her by the hair. "Don't push me, damn you," he hissed, shaking her. "I mean it, Shelly, don't push me too far."
Angrily, she pulled her head away from him. "Go to hell, Wilbur," she growled. "That's what you can do for me, just go to hell, all right?"
He contemplated slapping her for a moment, then decided against it. With those there maniacs out there, it was no telling what might set them off. He pushed her back against the wall, roughly and walked to the door, again.
Behind the hill, Brennen was patting down the dirt on the shallow grave he had dug for Smokey Charles. His shirt and trousers were soaked with his sweat, and his back aching from the effort of digging in the hot sun.
He stared down at the small mound and whispered softly. "There will be a reckoning for you, Smokey," he promised. "I'll see to it."
Dirk Mims did not hear what he said, and finally growled in impatience. "Okay, you said your words over him. Now let's get back to Daddy, big man."
At the fire, Billy was cooking up a pot of beans and pork, stirring it casually. Beside it, a few feet apart, sat Wilbur and Shelly. His father was standing, his back turned, staring into the high sun, about to set.
"Nothing to do tonight," he muttered. "It'll all have to wait for morning."
"What are you going to do with us?" Wilbur groaned, unable to eat.
Frank snapped at him. "You keep asking that, fat man, and I keep telling you I'll decide it when I'm ready," he growled. "Now quit pestering me about it."
"Gonna be a couple of days before that payroll comes through," Dirk muttered through a mouthful of food. "I suppose we'll just sit here until it arrives."
Wilbur moaned. "I... I can't wait that long," he whispered. "I'm expected in L.A. If I don't get there on time, they will start to ask questions."
Frank turned and glared at him. "Why don't you and your wife go on inside the shack and amuse yourselves," he snapped. "You're boring the hell out of me, Wilbur."
For the first time in hours, Shelly spoke again. "He can amuse himself," she spat. "I'm through being his entertainment."
Frank laughed. "You gonna let her talk to you that way, Wilbur?" he sneered.
The fat man glared at his wife. "Keep your mouth shut, I'm your husband."
She shook her head sourly. "You're a great deal less than that, Wilbur."
The two boys laughed and Frank Mims joined them. Wilbur was shaking with rage and humiliation, and he stood up, taking hold of his wife's dress, pulling her to her feet. He leaned into her face, shaking her violently.
"Don't talk that way to me, bitch, I mean it!" he barked.
"Fuck off, Wilbur," she hissed, clawing at him with her nails.
He yelped in pain, then slapped her hard across the face, knocking her down to the ground again. She moaned, holding her cheek and glaring at him, coldly.
"Seems to need a whipping, don't you think, Wilbur?" Frank Mims chuckled.
"Yeah, that's a good idea, give her a beating, fat boy," Dirk cackled. "I always did figure that bitch needed a good tanning every once in a while."
Wilbur Pickering was shivering with rage and excitement. He wanted desperately to get on the good side of these men, and this seemed to be the chance he was looking for.
He glanced around the camp site quickly, and his eyes fastened on a length of thick, gray cord that lay beside the door of the shack. Grabbing hold of his wife's hair, he began to drag her toward the shack.
"You're gonna get it now, bitch," he snarled. "By Christ, you're gonna get it!"
She stumbled along the ground as he dragged her, moaning each time she fell. When they reached the shack, Wilbur tied her wrists together with the cord and looped it over a beam that jutted out from the roof of the shack.
Pulling hard, he drew the woman to her feet, continuing to tug on the rope, until she was nearly standing on her tip-toes, her arms taut with the tension of the rope.
He lashed it tight to a metal ring beside the door and then slipped off his jacket. Reaching up, he took hold of her dress and tore it down, pulling it off of her.
She moaned as her naked body was revealed to the men, all of them but Brennen now standing to watch. She turned her head and glanced over her shoulder at their excited faces.
Motioning him out front with his pistol, Frank Mims ordered Brennen to rise. When the tall, lean man was in his line of vision, Frank turned to Wilbur Pickering.
"You're gonna put on a little show for us, Wilbur," he chuckled. "I want to see you give that bitch of yours a good licking, then you're gonna fuck her for us!"
Wilbur Pickering smiled grimly. His blood was flowing hot and fast through his veins, and the dull, persistent throbbing of passion was beginning to rage in his groin.
He nodded sharply, then pulled his belt from his trousers and took a place a few feet behind his shivering, helpless wife.
"A few licks of this ought to tame your mouth, whore," he snarled.
Shelly Pickering turned tier head around and tensed her shoulders as he swung the belt at them. She gasped as the leather made contact with her flesh, stinging her deep and vicious in her flesh.
As Wilbur beat his wife, Brennen watched grimly. He knew better than to say anything, or even take his eyes off the horrible scene for even an instant.
The blows fell in a regular pattern. Each one was timed to have the longest effect possible, before the next struck. By the time five minutes had passed, Shelly was hanging heavily from the cord around her wrists, her back, from shoulder to knees, a harsh, vicious ribbon of ugly, red welts.
"Now, Wilbur, give her some loving, now," Frank Mims whispered harshly.
"Yeah, fat man, fuck her," cackled Dirk Mims. "Fuck her real good!"
Wilbur moaned, for his own excitement was harsh in his loins, now. He could see the smooth, supple curves of his wife's slender limbs, and the delightful swell of her luscious buttocks, trembling with the pain of his beating.
He quickly walked to her and cupped his hands over her bottom, kneading her buttocks harshly. She moaned in pain as he massaged the damaged mounds, shuddering as he bent into her, lathering her shoulders with his tongue.
"You want it, don't you, bitch?" he hissed, grimly. "Tell me how much you do!"
Shelly Pickering gasped in pain, feeling her belly rumbling as his wet, sloppy tongue washed over her. He dug his fingers deep into the spongy tissue of her buttocks and she sobbed, twisting helplessly back and forth against the raw, cutting cord around her wrists.
"Ohh, baby, you get me going," Wilbur moaned in a half-laughing voice. "Damn, but you do, bitch! I got a hard-on, just thinking about it."
"Turn her around, Wilbur," Frank Mims chortled. "Let's see you playing with those tits and that pussy, fat man!"
Shelly sobbed as she felt her husband twisting her body around to face her. Her eyes blinked rapidly against the tears inside them, and she winced as the man rode his hands up and down the length of her damp, sweating frame.
"You animal," she gasped, painfully. "You want to, don't you, you pig?"
Wilbur laughed, harshly, pressing his lips to hers in a greedy kiss. "You bet I do, whore," he snarled. "And I'm gonna do it too, bitch! All of it!"
Cruelly, his fingers were at her breasts, then, kneading and tugging on the small, shapely spheres. He tormented them, squeezing, and massaging her tender mounds, rubbing his thumbs briskly back and forth across her aching nipples.
"Such a hot bitch, ain't you?" he snarled. "Big cunt, with a big mouth, huh?"
"Damn you, Wilbur, don't," Shelly groaned. "For the love of Christ, don't!"
His mouth crushed against hers, hotly, then, his tongue stabbing at her teeth to pry them apart. She gasped, unable to turn her head away from his persistent attack.
"Open up, whore," he hissed, tweaking her nipple, savagely. "Tongue me, now!"
Gasping in pain, Shelly parted her teeth as he demanded and felt his tongue slithering between them, hungrily. It lashed at her own, and she gagged at the foul invasion.
As he mashed his lips against her soft, warm petals, and curled his tongue, obscenely around her own, Wilbur Pickering continued to knead and massage her breasts, pinching the nipples until they were as hard and red as two pink pebbles.
He was rubbing his crotch against her thigh, now, moaning as he kissed and fondled her.
In back of him, the other four men watched intently, three of them groaning with excitement.
"Diddle her pussy, Wilbur," Frank Mims, hissed. "Get that juice flowing, man!"
Wilbur gasped with excitement and slithered one hand down to his wife's warm, quivering mound. She sobbed quietly as she felt his fingers cupping over it, eagerly exploring the soft, silken cunt hair, and the trembling lips of her cave.
Wilbur's fingers danced and teased her delicate petals. He rubbed his thumb hard against her clit, making her jerk spasmodically in response to the harsh caress.
"God damn you," she whimpered quietly. "God damn you for this, Wilbur!"
"Fuck you, baby," he cackled. "I'm hot for you, bitch, and I'm gonna have you!"
His fingers continued to knead and squeeze her breasts and loins, now, while his mouth was greedily over hers. He kissed and tongued her the wetness of his lips coated her face with slimy film.
He could smell the sweet, acrid aroma of his wife's loins, and feel the frightened heat rising from her pit. As the creamy, warm juice began to flow from within her tunnel, his balls and prick began to pound with urgent wanting.
Wilbur Pickering was hardly aware of what was doing by this time. All he could think about was the fact that his wife was as defenseless as he liked her to be, and his passion was taking hold in a familiar and powerful fashion.
"God, bitch, I love you this way," he whispered fiercely. "I love it like this!"
Greedily, his mouth slithered downward to her tiny, quivering breasts. His tongue flicked at them wickedly, lathering and stabbing at each nipple in turn. She moaned in sickened helplessness, shivering with the sensation of his stabbing dart caressing her.
He lifted one breast to his mouth, then, and caught the nipple between her teeth. Shelly groaned harshly as he sucked on the tender nugget, rolling it back and forth.
"Ohh, you bastard, you rotten bastard," she sobbed. "You son of a bitch, damn you!"
Wilbur only grew more excited by her quaking voice and the sobbing despair her moaning contained. He drew more of her breast into his mouth, then, and began to squeeze and fondle her loins with increasing urgency.
She gasped in pain and humiliation as she felt his fingers slithering up and down along the damp cleft between her pussy lips. He was twisting and turning them against the wet, creamy petals, cackling breathlessly as he explored her vaginal entrance.
"God, you're ready, ain't you, bitch?" he moaned. "Jesus, you're on fire down your cunt!
Just aching for a mean fucking, aren't you, whore?"
Moaning, she shook her head, wildly in denial. "I hate it, you son of a bitch, I hate it," she gasped. "You're a monster, a God damn, animal!"
Wilbur bit hard on her breast, digging his teeth into the fleshy globe, and the young woman screamed in pain. She threw back her head, wailing, shivering as the gnawing teeth chewed savagely on her defenseless globe.
His fingers, meanwhile, were probing deep into her pit, twisting and turning their way into the depths of her tight, narrow passage.
As the fingers buried themselves to the hilt in her channel, she could feel them cruelly pressing against her delicate inner walls, forcing them to expand, rapidly.
His mouth continued to lather and suck on her breasts, while he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her pussy. She felt the dull, pounding thud of them slamming into her, making her inner walls tingle with a harsh, searing hurt at every stroke.
Anxiously, his free hand slithered down to his crotch, where he quickly unzipped his trousers and drew out his shaft. It was semi-erect, growing rapidly, and he moaning in tortured pleasure as he pressed his expanding-tool against her slippery limb.
"Ahh, yeah, bitch, this is good," Wilbur cackled. "Jesus, real good, whore!"
The others drew a little closer, and Brennen was forced to follow their lead, for he could see the eyes of Frank Mims and his son, Dirk, constantly shifting back and forth between him, and the scene in front of them.
Wilbur's other hand slithered around his wife's back and slid down to the base of her spine. Cupping his palm over her ripe, jutting behind, he dug his fingers into one soft, spongy half moon to hold her steady.
He laughed as he kneaded the pert, lovely cheek, and flicked his tongue back and forth against her nipples. She winced and moaned under his caress, shivering in continual spasms of pain as his fingers pumped ruthlessly along her cunt sleeve.
She could feel the hardness of his shaft against her thigh, huge and searing with the boiling blood that was quickly engorging it. As it pounded erratically against her thigh, she knew that Wilbur was becoming consumed with his own, ruthless desire.
Her vault was wet and slippery by this time. The thick, creamy lubricant was flowing freely, and she was grateful that she was able to produce the fluid, for it was sparing her more pain than she felt she could endure.
She shut her eyes tightly under her husband's foul and relentless attack. It would do no good to plead with him, she knew, and she would not give him the satisfaction of hearing her beg, no matter what he did.
As Wilbur Pickering moaned with aching need, his cock now as hard as a steel bar, his balls swollen with boiling come and churning blood, he dug his fingers deeper into the warm, moist valley between her buttocks.
Shelly Pickering gasped with pain, throwing her head back and opening her eyes again. In front of her, she saw the four other men, Brennen off to one side.
Her father and brother's had eyes filled with gleaming excitement. All of them were licking their lips, greedily, rubbing their groins with harsh, anxious need.
Brennen's eyes were cold. His face was tight, his teeth bared in a nearly vicious snarl. She could see no excitement there, no delight in what he was watching, but she could see no compassion for her, either, and it made her sob with hopeless despair.
The fingers were pumping hard and faster into her cunt, now, and his other hand, greedy and insistent, was now determinedly exploring the soft, warm damp of her bum.
She moaned as she felt one of his digits twisting and turning against her anal dot. The poor, raw entrance to her bum was throbbing with pain from her father's assault and she winced harshly as her husband continued to worm a finger into her pit.
She sobbed as Wilbur thrust his prong into her bottom, cackling with glee. As much as she could, she relaxed the rectal passage, allowing him room to maneuver.
As the one finger drove deeper into her asshole, the two in her cunt twirled back and forth.
The three digits scraped together through the thin membrane of flesh that separated them, and Wilbur seemed to grow more agitated by the sensation of his caress.
For Shelly, now, the pain was constant and unrelenting. She felt her husband pumping his three fingers in and out of her tight, aching sleeves, and his cock throbbing powerfully against her quivering thigh.
His mouth was even more frenzied than before as he kissed and lathered her breasts.
She could feel his wet, sloppy tongue washing over them, and the aching sensation of his teeth nibbling at her flesh, reduced her body to one huge mass of suffering.
Shutting her eyes once more, she twisted and turned with the impact of his driving fingers.
She felt her cunt tunnel expanded fully, then, his fingers plunging into her with little effort at all.
Her inner muscles, trembling erratically, flexed against the plunging digits, and the young woman shuddered involuntarily as he drove the fingers deep inside her once more.
"Ohh, yeah, baby, that's the way," Wilbur groaned savagely. "Yeah, bitch, use those muscles, help me along! You love it, whore, I know you do!"
She tried to control her fluttering inner muscles. She tried to stop them from kneading his digits and urging his horrid lust on, but it was no use.
Her body was racked with pain by now, and her flesh seemed to instinctively know how to spare her as much suffering as it possibly could.
Now, Wilbur was rubbing his cock up and down along her thigh in and even more anxious manner. The huge, hot prong was pulsating violently, throbbing with the angry excitement of the man's greed.
She felt the knobby head pounding near the apex of her limbs, rocking back and forth against her slippery flesh with ever increasing power. Soon, she knew, he would be forcing the burning tool into her, taking her, brutally in front of the rest.
"Ohh, bitch, I need you now," Wilbur gasped. "Jesus Christ, I'm hot for you!"
"Fuck her, Wilbur," Frank Mims cackled. "Stick it to her good!"
"Make her squeal, fat man," Dirk Mims growled. "I want to hear her begging!"
Wilbur Pickering didn't give a damn if Shelly screamed or not. All he wanted by this time, was to get his prick inside of her, and empty the roaring seed from his tortured groin. For him, all that mattered at this moment, was his climax.
"You want that, baby, you want my dick?" Wilbur whispered viciously. "Come on, cunt, tell me how much you want it! Let the others know, whore! Tell them!"
As she had so often in the past, Shelly Pickering resolved to play her husband's game.
She knew he would only continue to torment her this way if she didn't, so she gulped anxiously and spoke in a desperate, breathless voice.
"Yes, Wilbur, yes, fuck me, now," she groaned, harshly. "Do it, Wilbur, give me your prick!
Fuck me, damn you, fuck me hard, right now!"
Wilbur Pickering felt like a man ten feet tall as he savagely plunged his fingers into her cunt and asshole. He could feel the heat of her baking his digits and the sweet, thick cream covering his prongs with a sticky film.
His balls were roaring by this time, his cock hurting so bad in need that he nearly screamed in tortured ecstasy. He pulled his fingers from her pussy, then, and took hold of his shaft, guiding it quickly to the hot, quaking mound of her cunt.
Shelly Pickering's body was as relaxed as possible for his invasion. She felt his fat, clammy fingers spreading her pussy lips apart, and she moaned as the man eased the hard, knobby helmet of his tool between her sensual petals.
"Yeah, man get it in there," whispered Billy Mims. "Ohh, fuck, man, stick it to the bitch!
Fuck her, mean, fat man, fuck that whore real mean!"
Wilbur Pickering grunted in ecstasy as he thrust his cock up into his wife's channel. The hard, long pole slid along her slippery, inner walls, pounding with the greed of his wanting, filling her with the sickening sensation of his penetration.
Steadying himself in front of her, the fat, heavily breathing man, grunted as he pushed his cock deeper into his wife's cave. She sobbed, shuddering under the cruel impact of his invasion, her cunt quaking uncontrollably around the probing rod.
Wilbur moaned in pleasure as he felt once more the sweet, taut snugness of his wife's pussy. He ground his fat belly against hers, and turned his finger inside her bum.
"Ohh, baby, this is good," he whispered fiercely. "Hot and tight inside you, Jesus, it's good!
Ummm, gonna fuck you now, whore, fuck you right, now!"
Shelly Pickering tried to prepare herself for the final act of her husband's ruthless lust. She groaned as she felt his cock twisting and turning inside her aching sleeve, pounding with increasing power, growing hotter and harder all the time.
Wilbur clasped his free hand over her left buttock, now, and began to ease his tool back out of her pit. She moaned as she felt the prong slithering along her aching cunt walls, creating the stinging pain of a violent and uncaring assault.
When he was nearly all the way out of her, Wilbur groaned and thrust into his wife's pussy once again. He drove his tool hard and fast into her, smacking his ample belly hard against her taut, firm stomach as he buried himself to the hilt inside her damp, precious chamber.
He began to thrust in and out of her, then, twisting and turning with a ruthless and uncaring passion. He rocked back and forth on his heels, thrilling to the sensation of his cock sliding along her gripping cunt walls, roaring with angry need.
"Umm, bitch, I just love fucking you this way," he cackled. "God damn, it feels great, whore, just fucking great! Your cunt belongs to me, baby, just to me!"
Harder and faster Wilbur drove into her, now. Each stroke was more violent and frenzied than the last, each plunge he took, a cruel, greedy assault on her pit.
He was moaning uncontrollably, and shuddering in quaking spasms as the lust in his flesh took hold of him. He pounded his weapon in and out of her delicate chamber, sobbing with the thrill of her steaming pit kneading and undulating against his rod.
He shivered violently, laughing as the hot come and boiling blood seemed ready to explode in his balls. He slammed into her pussy savagely, driving the huge meat to the hilt in her pit, while he clutched, feverishly to her soft, spongy buttocks.
As he massaged his cock through her cunt walls, he jerked violently with the first rippling tremor of release in his groin. He bucked harder and faster than ever before, now, for the roaring, tormented need in his groins was reaching a moment of eruption.
"Ohh, Jesus, bitch, gonna come," he whispered frantically. "Gonna come, bitch, gonna come in your fucking pussy, now! Yeah, whore, so good, so fucking good, you slut!"
Shelly could feel the hot, hard prong rippling inside her pussy and she steadied herself for his explosion. He sobbed wildly, and bucked in a frenzy, the hot come suddenly bursting from his tool and invading her tender, ravaged pit.
As Wilbur Pickering twisted and turned in the throes of his passion, the thick, creamy seed pouring from his spurting tool, his wife gasped with relief that it was very nearly over. She hung there, shuddering, her husband's semen bursting into her pussy relentlessly. As the swollen, quaking tool relentlessly powered into her aching pit, Shelly Pickering thought only one thing.
She was certain, more certain of it than she had any other time in her life. She was not going to leave this place alive, nor were any of them. Grimly she thought to herself: Have a good time, Wilbur, I think it's your last.
CHAPTER FIVE
As the sun set, finally, and a grim shroud of darkness settled over the desert, Brennen was thinking much the same thing, as Shelly had through during the assault.
He sat at the camp fire, staring into the flames, not needing to look at the others to know that they were there. A feeling of cold death surrounded him.
He felt all together certain that Frank Mims not just thinking about the payroll bus that was due in a couple of days. He was sure that the big, bulky man was more desperate than he acted, and that made him very, very dangerous.
Shelly Pickering was in the shack, now, alone. Her husband sat next to Frank Mims, trying to talk to the man. He was bargaining frantically, for his escape.
"You know, you don't have to wait for the payroll bus," he said urgently.
"Just what else am I going to do, Wilbur?" Frank Mims snorted.
"You have us," the fat man moaned. "You could trade us for your money!"
Frank sneered at him. "Everybody knows your old man don't give a shit about you, Wilbur," Frank spat. "He'd probably be just as glad to get rid of you!"
Wilbur sobbed at the painful insult, and shook his head. "Maybe so, maybe so, but he wouldn't want to get rid of her," he insisted, fearfully.
"Shut up, fat boy," Dirk Mims growled. "All this talking you're doing ain't gonna change our minds, so quit boring us with your ideas."
Frank glared at his son. "Let's hear him out," he said, evenly. "I always like to give a man a chance to protect himself."
Wilbur mopped his brow with his handkerchief and whispered fiercely. "My old man loves her," he hissed. "He'd pay anything to make sure that she was okay!"
Frank Mims stared at him thoughtfully. "Go on, Wilbur," he said, evenly. "This is the first time I've heard you make sense in all the time I've known you."
"Listen, let me go to the nearest town and call my old man," he grumbled. "I can make him see the way it is, I swear it!"
"You swear shit as far as I'm concerned, Wilbur," Frank spat. "But go ahead."
Wilbur was becoming excited, he glanced around quickly and nodded his head again. "I'll tell the old man he's got to pay for her. As much as you want, he'll do it!"
Frank Mims laughed, harshly. "Now, you know, that doesn't sound like a bad idea, after all," he chuckled. "It would save us a lot of work, running down that bus!"
"We'll drive in tomorrow," Wilbur whispered. "I'll call him and tell him!"
Frank shook his head. "No, we'll drive in, tonight," he hissed, rising to his feet. "I want to be there when you make that call, Wilbur!"
"But... but it's too late," the fat man sobbed. "Why not tomorrow?"
"Because I don't trust you, Wilbur," snarled the man. "Dirk will go with you, just to make sure you don't get any ideas of leaving us flat out here!"
"Do I look like the kind of man that would desert my own wife?" Wilbur gasped.
Frank laughed. "Matter of fact, Wilbur, you do," he growled harshly.
Wilbur moaned, but realized that there was nothing he could do. He got to his feet, nervously, and watched as Dirk Mims brought the jeep around to the front of the shack and camp fire. The young man was bristling with anger, not wanting to leave.
"If he tries anything, kill him," Frank Mims snarled as Wilbur climbed into the jeep. "But stay your hand until you're sure. I mean it, boy!"
"I'll take care of him, Daddy," Dirk snarled. "He won't be any trouble."
Wilbur Pickering shivered with fear as he stared into the cold, cruel eyes of the young man beside him. He gripped hold of the dash board, then, and sobbed as Dirk threw the jeep into first gear, and quickly drove off.
Brennen watched the tail lights disappearing, into the distance, then turned back to stare at Frank Mims and his son Billy as they sat down in front of the fire again.
Frank had a grim, thin-lipped smile on his face as he returned Brennen's stare. "You scared of us, Mister?" he asked softly. "You afraid, Brennen?"
Brennen nodded. "I'm scared," he said, evenly. "I'm smart enough for that."
Frank chuckled. "That's good, Mister, I like scared people," he chuckled. "You won't make any silly mistakes, then, will you?"
Brennen shook his head. "What are you planning to do to us?" he asked after a moment.
"What do you think?" Frank growled softly. "What should I do?"
"I think you're gonna kill us," Brennen whispered. "I think you have to."
Frank laughed. "You think too much, Mister," he spat. "You're gonna worry yourself into an ulcer, if you keep that up."
"Won't make much difference, if I'm not around to suffer with it," Brennen replied.
Frank cackled in delight. "By Christ, you're a hard one," he snorted wildly. "You got it all figured out already, don't you? Damn, friend, you're good!"
Brennen shrugged. "There isn't much I can do about it, is there?"' Frank laughed again and shook his head. "No, there isn't," he sighed. "But you just keep your mouth shut, and do as you're told. I'll see to the rest of it."
Brennen nodded then stood up with a groan. Billy Mims was grabbing for the small pistol beside him and his father snarled at him to stay his hand.
"Getting some sleep then, Mister?" he said to Brennen, happily.
"Ain't no sense staying up and waiting for it, is there?" the lean man replied.
Frank shook his head. "No, you might just as well catch a nap," he chuckled. "Whatever is going to happen, is going to happen, anyway."
"That's how I figured it," Brennen sighed. "Now if you'll excuse me."
He turned and walked toward the shack, Billy and Frank's eyes on him. When he had ducked into the small shanty, the young boy turned to his father, whispering.
"What are we gonna do with them, Daddy?" he asked, impatiently.
Frank glared at him. "Whatever has to, boy," he spat. "But first, we're gonna see if we can make some money out of your sister."
As he was making plans on guarding the two people in the shack that evening, Brennen was just inside the door, staring at the huddle figure of Shelly Pickering.
She was curled up on the narrow bunk, her body on its side, facing the wall. Brennen said nothing for the moment, then walked, carefully over to where she was.
She gasped as she heard him approach, and threw up her hands to protect herself.
Shaking his head and putting a finger to his lips to silence her, he pulled up a chair beside the bed, and sat down with a grim, weary sigh.
"What do you want?" she hissed at him, her voice quivering with fear and anger.
He shook his head again. "Hush, we have to talk," he whispered fiercely.
She laughed, grimly. "About what, the God damn weather?" she snarled.
"Look, Mrs. Pickering," Brennen growled. "This in no game they are playing."
"Mister Brennen, this is the only game for them," she moaned. "I know, they have been playing it with me all my life. All the men I known have been playing it!"
"Stop that, damn it," he growled. "We don't have time to whimper over what's happened to you. There are more important things than your dignity, Lady!"
She laughed bitterly, once more. "Thank you for your concern," she sneered. "I'll always remember how deeply you felt for my plight, Mister Brennen."
He gripped her shoulders tightly and forced her to sit up. She winced more in fear than in pain as he shook her harshly in his strong, vise-like fingers.
"Damn you, woman, do you want to die?" he snarled. "You want to end up like Smokey?"
She pulled herself away from him and sobbed. "I don't care what happens to me," she moaned. "They can do whatever they want, now, I don't give a damn!"
"Well I do," Brennen growled. "I care a lot about living, Lady, a whole lot!"
"What do you want me to do?" she sneered. "Be brave, is that it?"
Brennen pulled her close to him, snarling as he spoke. "You're not quitting on me, Mrs.
Pickering," he hissed. "You're not bringing me down, I mean it."
Their heads were just inches apart in that moment, and she could feel the heat of his breath against her cheek as he whispered to her. His fingers were dug deep into the flesh of her upper arms then, making them tingle excitedly.
"Now you may not care what happens to you, Lady," he said again. "But you're the key to all of this, and you're going to help me, whether you like it or not!"
"What are you talking about?" she sobbed. "I don't have any idea what you mean!"
"Your husband just road off with your older brother," Brennen hissed. "They are going to get in touch with your father-in-law."
She laughed wildly. "You mean they are ransoming me?" she cackled. "God, that's a joke.
Me instead of Wilbur. A wife instead of a son!"
"Joke or not, that's the way it is, Lady," Brennen snarled. "And if you don't keep your wits about you, that father-in-law will be buying nothing!"
"Why should I care?" she moaned, shutting her eyes in despair. "Why should I give a damn? It's just not worth it, I tell you, it isn't worth the trouble!"
Brennen pulled her very close then, and his lips were just barely touching hers as he growled at her. She felt the brush of them, and it made her loins quiver.
"You'll give a damn, because it mean's staying alive," he told her. "That's all that's important, now, Mrs. Pickering, just staying alive, understand?"
Brennen could feel the woman quivering in his grasp, feel the tingling that ran through her smooth, supple arms as he gripped them. The heat was coming off her body in waves, and it was sensual and enticing as he felt it caressing him.
"What kind of a man are you?" she whispered harshly. "You just stood by and watched!"
"I'm not getting killed on a damn fool play," Brennen snarled. "Smokey should have done what they told him to do. Now we have no choice but to watch and wait."
Shelly felt her body leaning into his, her breasts, quivering behind the rough work shirt her father had given her to wear. They were aching from the abuse they had taken, but even so, there was a lush, pleasing tingling in them that had nothing to do with the painful punishment that they had been suffering.
She moaned as she felt her nipples hardening against the material of the shirt. Her loins, covered by the jeans she was now wearing, were growing warm and damp, and she hated herself for the obvious excitement she seemed to be experiencing.
"You're just like all the rest," she snarled. "I know what you want."
Brennen laughed coldly. "You're a fool, Mrs. Pickering," he spat. "I could think about a lot of things right now, but raping you wouldn't be one of them."
Her belly churned at the sound of his voice and coldness in his words. She turned her head away from him, whimpering so violently, that she shivered in his grasp.
"Yes, I know, I know," she moaned. "I'm filthy, now, covered with the slime of my father and husband. I can see how you wouldn't want me."
"Don't be a fool," he growled. "Quit feeling sorry for yourself, damn it."
"I'm nothing, now," she sobbed a bit louder. "God, no one would want to touch me after what's happened! No one! Why bother, just why bother!"
Savagely, Brennen shook the young woman in his arms, turning her to face her again. He peered into her stricken eyes, and saw the fire behind the misty tears.
"I'd bother, you crazy bitch," he hissed. "I would, believe me!"
He mashed his mouth over hers, then, and kissed her hungrily. She felt his lips roaming across her quivering, sensual petals, and she gasped in shock and wonder. His kiss, though greedy and intense, was not cruel nor uncaring. His mouth was strong and masculine, but not fierce and painful. She shivered uncontrollably, the urge to surrender to his passionate kiss throbbing wildly in her flesh.
He pushed her away from him, suddenly, then, and sat back up in the chair. She fell against the wall, trembling as he stood up and walked to the door. Outside, he could see Frank Mims resting on his back, his son watching the shack, intently.
"Why did you stop?" the young woman whispered behind him.
He turned and glared at her. "I'm not one of them," he snarled. "I don't need to take anything from anybody. I earn my way, in money and pleasure."
"You don't hate me, do you?" she moaned, softly. "You don't think I'm dirty and unclean, not fit to touch! Tell me you don't, God please tell me!"
He crossed the room again as she turned to the wall, weeping. He stared at her for a moment, then sat down beside her and pulled her to his chest. His hand was patting her head as he spoke, his free arm, holding her tight.
"Of course not, Mrs. Pickering," he said softly. "There's no reason to. You're a good woman, Lady, a strong one, if you'll just let yourself be that way."
She peered up at his face and smiled weakly. "I like you, Mister Brennen," she murmured.
"I like you a lot. I think I can trust you."
Brennen's heart was pounding fast with the woman so close. He could feel her weight against his body, and her warmth flooding from her to him. At his groin, he sensed his shaft growing thicker and his balls begin to pound.
"I could," he whispered vaguely. "I really could, believe me, Mrs. Pickering."
Impulsively, as if seeking some strength from him, she pulled his head to hers again, her moist, warm lips parted, greedily. She whispered frantically as they met.
"Kiss me, Brennen," she moaned. "God, kiss me and make me forget them!"
Her mouth was wet and enticing, her lips soft and teasing as they caressed Brennen's tight, grim mouth. He heard himself groan a bit as her tongue slithered between his teeth, lashing anxiously at his own, in a greedy attempt to surround it.
Brennen shuddered spasmodically and kissed her harder in response. His hand kneaded her strong, taut spine through the work shirt and her own fingers dug into the flesh of his upper arms to hold him tightly to her.
"Your mouth is delicious," Brennen whispered fiercely. "You're beautiful!"
She laughed, nervously and kneaded his arms, arching her back as his hand slithered down to the swell of her buttocks. She moaned softly and flicked her tongue at his.
"Ummm, take me, Brennen," she murmured frantically. "God, please take me!"
One of her hands slithered around to the front of her shirt and began to pull at the buttons.
They parted quickly and she tore the garment out of her jeans and allowed the folds of the shirt to fall free, exposing her firm, up-right breasts.
"I want to be taken by a real man, Brennen," she moaned. "Someone that knows what it is to love a woman! I'm tired of animals Brennen, I want a man!"
Brennen gazed down at the pert, trembling spheres. In the pale light streaming in through the window, he could see the nipples hard and erect, her flesh glistening with the feverish sweat of her desire.
He slithered one of his hands over the top of her precious globes and squeezed each of them in turn. His caress was firm, but gentle, making her tender spheres ache with a sudden and powerful wanting that she had not experienced in years.
"Ohh, God, that's the way, Brennen," she sobbed. "What I've dreamed of, yes!"
Brennen rubbed the tip of his thumb back and forth across her taut, delicate nipples. She shivered with delight, the sensual pleasure rippling through her under the brushing digit.
Groaning, she ran her hand down over his chest and dropped it to his lap. She cupped her hand over his groin, felt the hardness behind his jeans and squeezed it, tightly.
Brennen gasped as a harsh, tearing pain of delight ripped through his cock and balls. Her small, slender digits kneaded his tool, intently through his jeans, and the roaring throb that had been building in his manhood grew in intensity.
"Damn woman, you're driving me crazy," he whispered grimly. "Driving me nuts!"
She laughed and nodded, clasping her hand over his and pushed his palm hard against her quivering boob. "Do it, Brennen, God, please do it," she moaned.
As her soft, ripe mound quivering under his fingers, Brennen found himself rhythmically kneading the sweet globe. He could feel the nipple digging hard into the calloused flesh of his palm, and the texture of her flesh was almost incredible in its softness.
His free hand wandered over the rim of her buttocks, now, gently squeezing them through the tightness of her jeans. She sighed contentedly and slithered her fingers back and forth across his groin, teasingly pinching his cock through the material.
Brennen shuddered involuntarily as he felt her fingers urgently pulling on the buckle to his belt. He groaned softly as she rode the _zipper down, and slipped her delicate hand into his jeans. By now, his cock was pounding viciously, and when she curled her lovely digits around the hard, hot tool, he nearly screamed with pleasure.
Anxiously, Brennen slid his hand over to the front of her body and unsnapped the button to her jeans. She shivered a bit in anticipation as she felt the zipper riding down, the harsh, roaring demanding increasing wildly in her loins.
"Yes, Brennen, ohhh, God, yes," she groaned as she felt his fingers slipping into her jeans to caress her hillock. "Ummm, so nice, damn, so nice, indeed!"
Brennen gently rode the digits through her cunt hair, marveling at the silken texture of her strands. Her mound was pulsating rhythmically under his touch and as he explore the hot, damn rise of her cunt, he could feel her clit twitching beneath his kneading grasp.
She sighed as she felt the bib man pushing her back down on the narrow bunk. He took hold of her jeans, then, and slithered them quickly over her legs and feet, while she struggled to free herself from the work shirt. She was naked on the bunk in a few moments, and Brennen stood over her, gazing at her trembling, lithe body in obvious hunger. His cock was quaking between his legs, and she laughed in delight, wrapping her fingers around the huge prong again.
"Come here with me, big man," she murmured softly. "Ummm, I want to feel all of you, every inch of your big, strong body. Take off your clothes, Brennen, now!"
The man could not keep from shivering with excitement as he tore off his shirt and pushed down his jeans. Stepping out of them, he sat down beside her on the bunk, and rested his hands on her breasts and loins, fondling them, gently.
She sighed once more and quickly began to knead and massage his long, thick spear.
She slithered her fingers up and down the length of his tool, and pinched his hard, hot helmet between them, in a teasing manner.
She felt the roaring blood that engorged the shaft, quaking against her fingers, and the rippling wake of it racing through his prong, stimulated her own need.
As Brennen slithered his fingers back and forth over her pussy, gently, tenderly pinching her cunt lips and clit, she thrashed involuntarily on the bunk, gasping in delight.
"Ummm, Brennen, Brennen," she moaned, thrusting her pussy hard against his hand.
"Yes, you big, strong bastard, yes! That's so damn good, yes, yes!"
She opened and closed her thighs against his hand, then, and Brennen felt the creamy texture of her limbs tight against his fingers, and the slippery warm of them searing his flesh with an alluring and consuming pleasure.
He bent over her, now, and pressed his lips to the sweet, pink tips of her breasts. She sobbed as she felt his tongue, incredibly light in its attack, lashing gently back and forth between her globes, lathering her nipples with a wicked demand.
She shuddered once more and slid her free hand under his balls. The fat, hard bag was pounding with need, and the heat of wanting was fierce in his flesh as she curled her fingers around his sack, and began to knead it methodically Brennen felt the stabbing, almost unbearable pleasure of her caress tearing through his balls as she massaged them. Tenderly, she rolled the throbbing nuts over her fingers, teasing them and pinching them in a sweet, loving fashion.
Now, the big man began to nibble on her breasts in a greedy manner. His teeth surrounded one taut, lovely nipple and he caught it between them. She winced in delight, then sobbed as she felt him draw it into his mouth, and lather it with his tongue.
"Jesus, Brennen, that's it," she gasped wildly. "Ummm, more, Brennen, more. Do it all to me, man, do everything, I need it so badly, I do!"
She was pumping her hand back and forth along this shaft, now, every stroke she took making him moan and shudder with increasing need. His prick felt as if it had grown to twice its normal size, and was on fire with a powerful and demanding greed.
She rubbed her thumb briskly across the knob of his shaft and Brennen shuddered violently, sucking more of her breast into his mouth. As his teeth dug into the fleshy globe, using just enough pressure to stimulate her, the young woman writhed in total ecstasy, eagerly massaging his cock and balls with renewed fury.
Brennen shuddered and jerked under her caressing. At the same time, his own hands were not idle. His fingers at her mound were teasing and rubbing her cunt lips, insistently, while at the same time, tenderly rolling her clit between them.
Shelly Pickering was feeling sensations that were hardly new, but for the first time, wild and thrilling to her. She felt no guilt or shame under his caress, felt no sense of humiliation in the harsh, greedy sensations that she experienced.
Tenderly, Brennen pushed her cunt lips apart and slithered two fingers inside her channel.
At once, her pussy muscles locked hold of the plunging spears, squeezing them fiercely to urge the hungrily man on.
Gently, Brennen rode his fingers deep into her cave. They turned from left to right against her tunnel walls, lovingly scraping the soft, moist flesh of her hot, enticing pit. She sobbed, thrusting herself angrily against his kneading hand.
Instinctively, Shelly Pickering was tugging on the big man's tool, trying to bring it around to her eager lips. He felt her pulling on him, and he moved his body around, slowly running his lips down over her stomach and belly.
She began to tremble, violently, as his lips and tongue reached her mound. She felt the flicking dart stabbing at her clit, and a fiery, delightful wave of pleasure roared through her cave, making her squirm and gasp with unbelievable excitement.
"Ohh, no one," she moaned. "No one ever did that before!"
Brennen grunted harshly and lashed at the sweet-tasting, taut button with the tip of his spear. He could fell her body jerking and thrashing under his attack, writhing in excitement as he lathered the luscious little nugget.
Hungrily, he moved his lips over her clit, he was sucking the delicious juice from her button, drinking it greedily from her hot, quaking mound. At the same time, she had pulled his cock to her own hungry mouth and was eager to attack the pole.
She slithered her tongue across the surface of his rod and Brennen began to shake with unbearable delight. The stabbing, vicious pleasure of her licking attack burned in his loins, and his cock throbbed with a tortured need.
Eagerly, now, the woman began to ride her lips and tongue up and down the length of his pole. She could taste the bitter manliness of his sweat and smell the rich, dank aroma of his passion. She rode her loving arrow over the flesh of Brennen's meat, then, and hungrily brought the tip of his cock to her lips once more.
"I want to suck you, Brennen," she laughed, harshly. "I want to suck you long and hard! I want to feel your tongue inside me, I want everything, now, everything!"
Brennen groaned fiercely as the young woman hungrily ran her lips down to the base of his manhood again. He felt her teeth nibbling on his taut, hairy ball bag and he groaned in pleasure, jerking violently as she gathered them between her lips.
Hungrily, Shelly sucked his bag into her mouth and began to lash at his rocks with the tip of her soothing dart. She flicked them back and forth against her warm, moist cheeks and blew hot currents of air against his aching bag.
For Brennen, the sensations were so vivid and intense, that he could barely stand the pleasure he was experiencing. He had had a lot of women in his life, but few had attacked his flesh with such obvious and overpowering eagerness.
"Jesus, that's good," he moaned, breathlessly. "Ahh, God, do it, Shelly, damn, do it, now!
Suck me, woman, suck my balls and my cock so fucking good!"
He buried his head between her legs, then, moving his lips and teeth hungrily over her quivering thighs. He nipped at the soft, damp flesh and lashed at her cunt petals with the tip of his spear.
She screamed softly in delight as she felt the rough, anxious dart slicing back and forth between her cunt petals, and his teeth nibbling greedily on her aching lips.
Her greed was more passionate and fiery than she ever remembered, as she rolled his balls in her mouth- She thrilled to the pounding of the stones against her lips and inner cheeks, and loved the feeling of his cock beating wildly in her hand.
Hungrily, she moved her lips away from his sack, then, and quickly worked them back up along his pole. As Brennen's tongue savagely penetrated the moist, tight channel of her pussy, Shelly locked her lips and teeth around the rim of his helmet.
Frantically, she slid his huge, hot pole into her throat channel. Her slender, gripping sleeve was wet and warm, and the velvet texture of it made Brennen gasp with delight.
As she quickly buried his cock to the hilt in her mouth, Brennen did the same with his tongue in her pussy. He gripped her thighs tightly in his hands, now, and drove his darting spear in and out of her hot, wet tube, sucking on her pussy lips, fiercely.
Shelly Pickering felt Brennen's long, fat spear pulsating against the silken flesh of her throat walls, and she sucked as hard as she could on the root of his shaft. She began to slide it back and forth along the length of her sleeve, lathering the pole with her tongue, and dragging her teeth along his aching flesh.
The cock beat wildly in her mouth, and she loved the tiny spasms of delight that raced through it, each time she stabbed at the meat with her tongue. As she pumped the huge prong in and out of her tender canal, Brennen's tongue was lathering her cunt walls with a growing and demanding need.
Never had Shelly Pickering felt passion like this. The thrilling heat that was boiling in her flesh was delightful, and the aching desire to find the climax she was searching for, was more vivid and overwhelming than she could have imagined.
Bobbing her head up and down on his tool, twisting and turning her lips and teeth against it, the young woman could think of little else but the pleasure she was giving and receiving. This was what sex was supposed to be, she realized, happily.
Brennen loved the taste of her pussy, the scent of it. He thrilled to the texture of her inner flesh, and the basking warmth of her fever cunt. He felt her muscles flexing about his darting spear, greedily and he lathered her pussy walls, with abandon.
His prick was pounding with an exquisite agony, now, so fierce and demanding in its lust, that Brennen feared he might come at any moment. His flesh seemed to be compressed into one large organ, shivering and roaring with sensual pleasure.
He felt Shelly's head bobbing up and down on his cock, twisting and turning almost savagely, obviously eager to bring him to a powerful and consuming release.
Moaning, the man pulled his mouth from her pussy and gasped in. aching wanting.
"Damn, I want to fuck you," he growled. "I want to fuck you hard and fast, now!"
Shelly Pickering laughed in delight, thrilled to the beating of his massive tool in her mouth.
In her cunt, every inch of her flesh was boiling with desire and the very idea of his cock being deep inside her, was almost enough to make her come.
She began to push and pull on the man, frantically trying to draw him around and over her again. "Give it to me, Brennen," she whispered feverishly. "Now, let's do it now! I want it, Brennen, ohhh, God, how much I want it, now!"
Brennen moaned and slithered his body around, riding his lean hips over her soft, quaking thighs. He settled down between her warm, lovely limbs and rested the length of his hard, quaking tool against her belly and mound.
His mouth suddenly covered hers, as her greedy hands grasped for his shaft. His tongue drove between her teeth, entwining around her own, while she pulled on his cock, forcing it down between her wet, swollen pussy lips.
Both of them gasped wildly as Brennen's hard, angry tool penetrated her creamy vault.
They groaned savagely as he slid his shaft into her-cave, twisting and turning his way into her, until his cock was buried to the hilt in her luscious channel.
For the first time in her life, Shelly Pickering felt pleasure at having a prick inside of her.
She moaned and sobbed, almost crying as she felt the hard, powerful weapon beating rhythmically against her tight inner walls.
"Ohh, Brennen, it's good, so very good," she whispered. "Now, Brennen, fuck me, now!"
Brennen felt her cunt muscles squeezing his tool harshly. The urgent manner in which she was trying to stimulate him was almost as exciting as the feeling of her flesh surrounding his tortured manhood. With a gasping sigh, he slithered his cock out of her once more, then plunged deep inside of her a second time.
His cock was roaring, now, boiling with a furious intensity that was overwhelming to the young woman. She was helpless in the throes of her ecstasy, totally consumed by the pleasure she experienced. She shivered and quaked, thrusting herself against him.
Now, Brennen slid his hands under her pert, taut buttocks and squeezed the spongy cheeks, tenderly in his grip. Slowly he began to ride his cock in and out of her tunnel, rocking back and forth, from side to side to urge her on.
Each stroke that he took was smooth and leisurely, unlike the hard, vicious thrusting that she was used to, under her husband's brand of passion. She lay there, quivering and lurching beneath his attack, thrilling to the slithering pleasure of his cock riding along her hot, tight passage.
"Ohh, God, it's good, so damn good," she moaned, quietly. "Yes, darling, Brennen, yes!
Ohh, harder, faster, do it -all, Brennen, ummmm, I love it, so!"
From the way her cunt muscles were kneading and massaging his prick, Brennen could tell that she was truly enjoying this. He felt the firm, taut muscles locking hold of his shaft, squeezing him fiercely, and he gasped as the powerful greed roared through the length of his prong, making him jerk violently in delight.
His fingers squeezed and massaged her buttocks, now, digging deep into the soft, warm half moons, but never hurting her for a moment, he pulled her cunt tight to his groin and ground his belly against hers, thrilling to the lovely contact of their bodies as both of them shuddered in ecstasy.
His prick boiling, his balls raging, Brennen could hardly breathe because of the pleasure he was feeling. He moaned passionately, pumping harder and faster now, as her cunt drew tighter around his cock, and the shaft itself grew harder and thicker with need. his thrusting assault grew more frenzied and wildly, but still, there was no pain in his attack for the young woman, only wild and thrilling pleasure that consumed her.
She kneaded his prick anxiously with her muscles as she felt the climax welling up in her loins, and gasped with a breathless fever, as it began to erupt in her cave.
"Brennen, God, my sweet Brennen, I'm going to come," she whispered fiercely. "Ohh, darling, yes, now, going to come! Ohh, my God, so good, yes, so good!"
Brennen felt her pussy walls lock around his tool, and the roaring heat of her climax begin to ripple through her vaginal passage. He pumped even harder into her then, and tightened his grip on her buttocks in anticipation of her release.
She screamed wildly ad the climax ripped through her loins. The searing waves of liquid warmth washed over her inner flesh, and she thrashed violently beneath him.
She was bucking and jerking spasmodically, locking her cunt muscles tightly around his plunging meat as she came. He could feel the lovely, thrilling warmth of her caressing his tortured shaft, and he pounded his prick into her channel even harder.
Brennen's cock was burning fiercely as he felt the come and blood reaching and explosion point in his groin. He gasped thickly and drove into her pussy relentlessly, his body shuddering and quaking as much as hers as the orgasm burst in his loins.
The hot some spurted savagely from his tool, pouring into her tunnel with a frenzied power, she laughed as he bucked into her, holding him tightly by the shoulders as she felt him come. For the first time, the splash of semen against her inner walls was something that she thrilled to.
"Ahhh, yeah, so good," Brennen moaned as he quivering in her pit. "Beautiful, Shelly, it's fucking beautiful. Feels so good, so damn good, coming in you, now!"
They lay there shivering with the lingering tremors of their passion for a long time. Shelly held him close, thrilling to the weight and feel of his body close to hers. He was kissing her.
CHAPTER SIX
Dawn came early, for Frank Mims was restless, waiting for his older son, and Wilbur Pickering to return. He had Billy rouse Brennen and Shelly Pickering, and the youth was glowering as he emerged from the shack.
"They was all tangled up, naked," he spat. "He was fucking her, Daddy."
Frank Pickering laughed, fiercely. "What's a matter, boy, you jealous or something," he snorted; "You want some of that pussy, too?"
"Damn right," his son grumbled. "I don't see why I shouldn't."
"Just hold onto your horns, boy," his father snarled. "Business before pleasure."
As Brennen and Shelly stumbled out into the morning, Frank Mims chuckled, waving them over to the fire. Shelly sat on an over-turned barrel, while the tall, lean man picked up a cup and held it out for coffee.
"Rest easy, did you?" Frank Mims chuckled. "Have a good night, friend?"
Brennen grunted. "I slept sound," he lied. "I nearly always do" Brennen had slept very little, for he had spent most of the night trying to think of how he could get around what was coming. He knew that once Wilbur Pickering and Dirk Mims returned, his chances of staying alive were going to be cut to pieces.
"That's good, Brennen, real good," Frank laughed. "I'm happy to hear it."
Brennen gazed at him coldly. "When- you gonna do it?" he asked.
Frank shrugged. "No need to hurry in this life, friend," he sighed. "We'll all get to the same place soon enough, you know. Why rush it?"
"You ain't like your kids," Brennen said, suddenly. "Those two boys of yours, they're fools.
You're different. Why are you running this way, Mims?"
Frank shook his head. "Man gets old, he gets tired. I need to rest, and to do that you need money," he grunted. "It don't grow on trees, you know."
"You picked the hard way to come by it," Brennen growled. "It won't work, you know."
Frank cackled. "You just keep right on believing it won't, friend," he chuckled. "If it'll make it any easier for you, you just keep right on believing that."
Brennen was about to say something, when the sound of an engine whining suddenly filled the air, growing louder and louder all the time. He turned his head in the direction it was coming from, and stood, as did Frank Mims, to peer at the approaching vehicle.
Dirk Mims was racing over the rough, dirt road, and over the growl of the engine, his laughter could be heard. He pulled up short beside the camp fire, throwing Wilbur Pickering hard against the dashboard of the vehicle.
"He's coming in at noon, Daddy," the young man cackled. "Bringing it all!"
Wilbur Pickering moaned as he stepped down from the jeep, shivering, covered with dust that sweating had turned into grime on his face and hands. He stood by the jeep, flicking his eyes back and forth, worriedly as Dirk walked toward his father.
"Where are we meeting him?" Frank asked, grimly.
"Out by the old mission, I told him," Dirk chuckled. "He swore he'd come alone."
"He'd better," grumbled Frank Mims. He turned and stared at Wilbur. "You look a little green around the gills, Wilbur. Better have some coffee."
"I... I've done what you asked," the fat man moaned. "Can't I leave, now?"
Frank chuckled. "Hell, man, what about your wife?" he snorted. "Don't you want to stay around until we make the trade, friend?"
Wilbur sobbed. "You don't need me," he moaned. "You can do that yourself."
Frank glanced at Brennen, then his two sons, and finally his daughter. "How about that, little girl?" he murmured. "What do you think about your husband?"
Without looking up, Shelly spat her words out. "Let him go if he wants to."
Frank turned and smiled at Wilbur. "Well, I suppose you're right," he sighed. "I guess we don't need you anymore, fat stuff. Go on, take off."
Wilbur's face lit up with a nervous smile. "You mean it, you mean I can leave?" he whispered. "You'll let me go? God damn, I knew you were a good man, Frank Mims."
He turned then, and began to walk slowly up the road. The five people at the camp site watched him for several minutes, until his was a small shape in the distance "Fat, stupid fool," snarled Frank Mims. He turned and nodded to Dirk.
Grinning savagely, the young man walked to the jeep, pulled a rifle from the back and took careful aim. The harsh report of the weapon filled the air, and in the distance, the small figure of Wilbur Pickering whirled around, just as Dirk fired again.
He tumbled into the dust and Shelly gasped in horror. She stood up but Brennen held out his hand and shook his head. Frank Mims nodded to his son in approval.
"That was right nice, boy," he cackled. "Good shooting, don't you think, Brennen?"
Shelly sat down heavily, her heart pounding in her chest, tears in the corners of her eyes.
Angrily she wiped them away, catching her breath as she sobbed.
"Hell, little girl, I did you a favor," Frank snarled. "He wasn't worth a fuck."
"What about the trade, Daddy?" Dirk Mims said, quietly. "How do we handle it?"
"You don't handle nothing, boy," Frank snapped. "You stay with these two, I'll see to the old man and his money. We'll settle everything when I come back."
Shelly looked up. "You hurt him, Daddy, and I'll see you pay for it," she hissed.
Frank smiled at her, thinly. "You just relax, little girl. I worry about him."
He walked to the jeep and climbed in, turning the engine over. He glared at his two sons as he put the vehicle in gear. Shaking his head, coldly, he spoke.
"I want to see them alive when I get back," he growled. "Keep that in mind."
Then he turned the steering wheel, and took off in the jeep at a leisurely pace. The others watched as he drove past the small speck of Wilbur Pickerings body without stopping, then disappeared around a large hill, the sound of the engine dying fast.
Brennen sat down again, drinking thoughtfully from his coffee cup. The two young men were huddled across from him, chattering in anxious and greedy voices.
He let them talk to each other for awhile, then spoke up. "You know, I wouldn't let him go off by himself," he said, casually. "Might not see him again."
Billy glared at him. "You're talking about our Daddy, asshole," he snarled. "You keep your mouth shut about him, you hear? Or I'll shut it for you."
Dirk growled at his brother, harshly. "Shut up, Billy. Let him talk."
"I figured you were a smart one, Dirk," Brennen said, evenly. "Your old man and I had a little talk. Seems he don't think all that much of you two."
Billy started to rise, but Dirk held him back.
'He's right about that," he snarled.
"I think he's planning to keep on going, once he gets the money," Brennen sighed.
Dirk chuckled harshly. "You'd love to see us race off after him, wouldn't you," he whispered softly. "Just leave you and sis here to amuse yourselves, is that it?"
Brennen shrugged. "It's no concern of mine," he sighed. "It's your business."
Dirk turned to his younger brother. "Might not be a bad idea if Daddy had someone to back him up," he said, evenly. "No telling what might happen."
Billy blinked rapidly, the worry and doubt that was growing in him, quite clear on his face.
He glanced quickly at Brennen and his sister, then back to his brother, who was slowly getting to his feet. He watched as Dirk walked toward the shack.
There was a small motor bike leaning against the side of the building and Dirk tested the engine by kicking the starter. When it roared to life, he let it idle.
"Let's tie the big man up," he said to his brother. "And you watch them."
Together, they lifted the unresisting Brennen to his feet and bound his hands and legs together with a length of the cord Wilbur had used to tie up Shelly the day before. They placed him on the ground beside the camp fire and then Dirk grinned at his brother.
"You keep an eye on them," he whispered. "I'll be back with Daddy in awhile."
With that, he hopped on the motor bike and drove off in the direction that his father had taken. Brennen watched him go, waiting until he disappeared before speaking.
Billy was sitting by the fire, watching him, and his sister, idly. Brennen sighed, squirming around to make himself more comfortable. He shook his head with a moan.
"Sure must be tough for a boy like you," he groaned. "Not having any fun."
"I have fun," Billy sneered. "Gonna have a lot more when we get that money."
Brennen chuckled. "Yeah, but you're not gonna get what you've been dying for, are you?"
he laughed. "No, that's one thing you're just gonna have to do without."
Billy glared at him, then lifted his eyes to his sister, sitting on the barrel. She glared back at him, a cruel smile at the corners of her mouth. She laughed, harshly.
"At least I'm going to be spared that," she laughed. "At least that much."
Billy snarled. "Don't mouth off to me, sister," he hissed. "I'm warning you."
She stood then, shaking her head defiantly. "Fuck you, Billy," she hissed.
She turned then, walking toward the shack, and Billy leaped to his feet. He caught her at the door, and pulled on her hair, turning her around, savagely. Leaning his face into hers, he growled in a vicious, rasping voice.
"You been playing with me too long, bitch," he hissed. "Now it's my turn!"
Shelly screamed as her brother threw her into the shack, slamming the door behind him.
She fell against the small, narrow bunk, shivering with fear and anger.
"Keep away from me, Billy Mims," she whispered. "You just keep away."
Billy cackled savagely. "By Christ, I'm tired of just watching," he whispered fiercely. "I'm gonna start joining in, whore. You're gonna start taking care of me!"
She leaped for the door, but he caught her by the wrist and spun her around, pulling her tight to his skinny chest. His eyes were on fire with passion, his mouth cruel as he crushed it down over hers, and began to kiss her hungrily.
She bit his lip, hard, and he gasped in pain. "You little slut," he snarled. "I'll teach you to bite me, bitch! I'm gonna really give it to you, now!"
He slammed his fist hard into her temple and she groaned in pain as she fell away from him. She slumped to the floor, dazed by the blow, and Billy quickly pulled her arms around her back and lashed her wrists together with a strip of leather.
She whimpered as he dragged her to her feet and forced her to sit down on the edge of the bunk. He slapped her several times until she was sobbing, fully alert.
"Now, sweet sister," he chuckled. "Old Billy's gonna have his taste of you!"
Shelly gasped in horror as she felt her brother slowly unbuttoning her work shirt. "Please, Billy, don't," she moaned. "God, don't Billy, you can't, you can't!"
Billy laughed coldly. "Who says I can't, bitch?" he murmured, tugging her blouse apart and bearing the lovely, twin globes that trembled enticingly on her chest.
"God, you got sweet little tits," he cackled. "I've been wanting to play with them for years, slut. Now I'm gonna have all the fun I've been aching for."
Rudely, he cupped his right hand under one breast and took hold of her hair with his other hand. She moaned as she felt his fingers curling around her delicate sphere, kneading the smooth, creamy flesh of her boob in a harsh, painful fashion.
He laughed harshly as he rubbed the tip of his thumb back and forth across her small, tender nipple, making the soft, pink bud grow thick and taut atop her globe.
"Jesus, you're even softer than I figured," he moaned. "Damn, this is gonna be fun."
"Please, Billy, don't," Shelly whimpered, tears coming to her eyes. "Don't, please."
"Shut up, bitch," he snarled, tweaking her nipple, cruelly. "You just keep that mouth of yours, shut! I've been waiting for years for a chance like this, whore!"
Shelly groaned again as she felt him pull her head back and clasp his mouth over hers once more. This time, however, she did not attempt to bite him, but held her lips tight as he kissed her, revolted by the stabbing on his greedy tongue against her teeth.
"Open up, bitch," he hissed, pinching her nipple again and tugging on her hair.
She winced in pain, and realized that it would only gain her more pain if she resisted him.
She parted her moist, sensual lips then, and let him force his tongue between them.
Gagging, she felt the rude spear lashing at her own, pink dart.
His hand rode down the front of her body, then, kneading and massaging her boobs, then her belly, until he was fumbling with the button and zipper to her jeans.
Shelly sobbed as he pulled them free and tugged on her hair, forcing her to rise. As she stood up, she felt her brother pushing the jeans down over her smooth, supple thighs, until they were bunched around her ankles, exposing her loins to his greed.
"I want you naked, bitch," he snarled, pulling on the jean, ruthlessly. "I'm gonna feel you all over, whore, and then you're gonna give me the best blow job you ever gave. If you don't, I'm gonna beat the shit out of you, understand?"
She moaned as he pulled the jeans from her tiny feet, tossing them aside. He sat her back down on the bunk again, and pushed her thighs apart with his dirty hands.
"Mighty good-looking body," he cackled. "Even if you ain't so pretty."
He gazed at her parted limbs, and the soft, downy hair that covered her mound. It was damp with sweat, now, the silken strands glistening erotically as he peered at them.
Rubbing his groin, anxiously, Billy clasped his hand on one soft, warm leg and began to squeeze it, harshly. Shelly moaned as she felt his other hand clasping over her breast once more, and his mouth bending to kiss her.
She felt his lips on her own, moist petals and she gasped, shivering as the young man kissed her, hungrily. His tongue stabbed between her teeth once more, and she felt it entwining around her own in a greedy and anxious manner.
His fingers cupped and kneaded her breasts in turn, pulling on the nipples to make them as hard as two rosy pebbles. She sobbed, jerking spasmodically as the fingers at her thigh crept upward, until they were brushing, obscenely, against her mound.
"Damn, you're wet already," Billy groaned. "You are a little whore, ain't you?"
Shelly groaned as he continued to knead her boobs, while at the same time, pinching the warm, quivering petals of her pussy between his thumb and forefinger. He pressed his thumb against her clit and she gasped as a mixture of pain and pleasure ripped through her.
"Daddy was right, you love it," he snarled. "Just like the slut you are!"
Billy was cruel and vicious in his attack, not caring if he hurt her as he allowed his fingers to explored the moist, warm mystery of her flesh. His mouth roamed over hers, savagely, kissing and stabbing, biting her lips, painfully in delight.
She was revolted, of course, but nonetheless prepared to accept his attack. In her mind, she knew that Brennen was up to something, and it was her job to keep her brother occupied while he did it. Moaning with resignation, she did not resist.
Billy Mims cock was throbbing in his pants as he fondled and massaged his sister's body.
He cupped his hand over her mound and darted two fingers between her pussy lips, laughing fiercely as the young woman sobbed with shame and disgust.
"Umm, sis, you're just beautiful, ain't you?" he chuckled. "All hot and wet, ready to go to work! I'll bet you're dying to suck on my prick, huh, baby?"
She groaned, feeling the harsh, painful stab of his fingers slicing back and forth along her cunt tunnel. At her breasts, his other hand was squeezing them harshly, digging his fingers into the warm, trembling globes, as hard as possible. She nearly screamed in pain as the kneading caress make her breast tingle with agony and the pumping action of his other fingers assaulting her cunt sent harsh, stinging waves of hurt racing through her tender passage.
She shivered and quaked as the young man attacked her flesh, his breathing becoming more labored and forced as his cruel, blind wanting reached a frenzied peak.
"Mother, I'm hurting in my balls," Billy moaned. "Got to have you suck them, bitch, that's all there is too it. Got to have you blow me, now, you whore!"
He reached her breast and tore down his zipper then. Shelly moaned as she saw him pulling his hard, long prick from within the jeans, balancing it in his palm.
"Like the looks of it, bitch?" he cackled. "Can't wait to suck it, can you?"
She sobbed as he leaned forward, rubbing his shaft between the pert, up-lifted cones of her breasts. She felt it beating erratically against her shivering spheres, the harsh, angry blood tearing through the shaft at an incredible pace.
His fingers dove deep into her pussy then, twisting and turning as they buried themselves to the hilt inside of her. She screamed softly at the pain of his thrust, her head thrown back as the horrible ache tore through her, anew.
Billy felt his sister's hot boobs quivering sensuously against his cock and he moaned, rocking back and forth against her. He felt her hot, damp tunnel undulating about his buried fingers, and the tortured need he was experiencing, grew ten-fold.
"God damn, I feel tight and hot," he muttered. "Jesus, bitch, you sure know how to get a guy going, I'll give you that much, whore!"
He took hold of her hair, then and roughly pulled her from the bunk. He forced her down to her knees, then, and thrust his surging groin at her face, pulling her head to his crotch in a harsh, demanding manner.
"Now you suck good, bitch," he snarled. "I want a real nice job, understand?"
Shelly whimpered, feeling the hot, throbbing flesh of his tool at her cheek. She turned her head then, and pressed her lips to the side of his prong, kissing it nervously. As her mouth moved over his prick, Billy sobbed with pleasure, and rocked from side to side on his heels, in ecstasy.
"Yeah, Jesus, the balls, baby," he groaned. "Take those balls in your mouth!"
His taut, hairy bag was pounding beneath his tool as Shelly pressed her sensual petals to the sack. Billy gasped in delight, moaning wildly as he felt his sister's tongue stabbing at his nuts, rolling them back and forth against her kissing lips.
She parted her teeth then, and fed the hard, pounding sack into her mouth, locking her teeth against his flesh as she sucked on the bag. Billy gasped again and thrust forward, grinding his loins against her face, while she lathered his balls with her tongue.
She worked methodically on the sack, darting and stabbing her spear against his angry stones, blowing warm currents of air at them. She rolled them back and forth against her moist, sucking cheeks and hummed vibrations in her throat.
Billy's loins were on fire as his sister worked steadily on his ball bag. His nuts were aching with the churning blood and come in his bag, and his cock pounded against the side of her head with a violent and frenzied need.
For several moments, he allowed her to continue sucking on his balls, while he rubbed his cock against her cheek. She could feel the fat sack expanding, growing fiercely taut with the building of his lust and wanting. Savagely, she attacked him.
Billy sobbed as he began to tug on her hair, pulling her mouth from his swollen, aching bag. "The prick, bitch, suck the prick," he whispered wildly. "Suck it, now."
She worked her way back up along his shaft, then, licking and stabbing with her tongue until she reached the hard, hot helmet of his prong. She gathered the knobby head between her teeth, then, and gagged as he thrust forward, viciously.
"Sweet Jesus, that's nice," Billy moaned as he shoved his cock deep into the soft, warm sleeve of her throat. "God damn, suck it, whore, suck it good!"
Gulping frantically, Shelly sucked hard on the root of his prong, rolling her tongue against the fiery shaft to urge him on. He shivered and quaked, bucking spasmodically in delight, feeling her teeth grinding into his flesh, ruthlessly.
He pushed and pulled on her hair, then, forcing her to bob her head back and forth on his prong. As the long, hot pole slithered in and out of her throat, she lathered it with her tongue and sucked on the shaft as hard as she possibly could.
Billy's loins were boiling by this time, churning angrily with the need to explode. He felt his sister blowing him fiercely, riding her mouth swiftly back and forth on his tool, using her throat muscles to urge him on.
The pounding in his tool reached a feverish pitch, now, it was roaring with demand, pulsating in a manner that was almost too exquisite to bear. He sobbed, jerking spasmodically as he rammed his cock deep into her velvet channel once more.
"Yeah, baby, good, make me come, make me come," he moaned. "Ahh, bitch, gonna come in your mouth, so fucking good! Gonna come in your mouth, ahh, yeah!"
Shelly shut her eyes as she felt the cock begin to quake violently against her throat walls, she felt something hot and wet spurting from his shaft, then, and she swallowed wildly to accept his thick, creamy seed into her belly.
Billy Mims laughed and shivered as his orgasm roared in his groin, he thrust his tool deep into her throat, shuddering as the semen pumped out of his shaft in a cruel and searing manner. He held her head tightly to his crotch, and shivered in ecstasy.
"Baby, that was beautiful," he sobbed. "Just beautiful, yeah, yeah!"
He shoved her away, then, and moaned softly as the young woman, sobbing with grief and disgust, turned away to spit out the last of his seed from her mouth.
Billy Mims cackled in delight and nudged the moaning young woman with the toe of his boot. He turned then, zipping up his trousers, the smile on his face quickly disappearing as he gazed into the hard, cold face of Brennen holding his pistol on him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
"My brother will be back," Billy hissed at the man in front of him.
Brennen nodded, coldly. "I expect him," he hissed. "That story was just to get rid of him long enough for this. Now you move, or speak, and you're dead."
He handed the pistol to Shelly then, as the subtle whine of the motor bike suddenly drifted to his ears. He growled at her. "I can't hold it with my hands, anyway."
She looked at his hands, and gasped. They were nearly black from holding them over the fire to burn the cord free. He shook his head and pulled Billy's long hunting knife from him.
Them he turned and quickly walked back out and lay down again beside the fire. Then Billy started for the door and Shelly snarled at him.
He grinned at her, just as his brother drove up on the motor bike. "You ain't gonna do nothing," he snarled, "you ain't got the guts bitch."
"Try me, Billy," she snapped. "After what you just made me do, I think I would even enjoy it a little bit, you bastard. Now sit down and shut up."
Billy shrugged and walked over to the bunk, grinning as he sat. "You ain't got a chance, sis," he chuckled. "Neither does he. Dirk will chew him up and spit him out."
Shelly Pickering shuddered involuntarily and backed away from the young man on the bed." Behind her, she could hear Dirk calling out his brother's name, angrily.
On the ground, Brennen gazed up at the young man, chuckling softly. "He's inside," he murmured. "I don't think you have to guess what he's up to."
Dirk glared at him suspiciously. "What have you been telling him, big man?" he growled.
"If you've been messing with his mind, I make sure you regret it."
"Why don't you join him?" Brennen whispered. "I had her last night, she's a fine piece of meat, Dirk. You'd be surprised at how tight that pussy is."
"I don't need to fuck my sister," Dirk snarled. "I get all the ass I can handle whenever I want it. You just keep quiet, big man, if you want to stay healthy."
Brennen moaned. "My wrists are killing me," he sighed. "Could you, maybe loosen up these knots a bit?"
Behind his back, he was clutching the knife, staring pointedly at the young man a few feet in front of him. Unless Dirk was right next to him, Brennen knew he wouldn't have a chance against the young man.
"I give a shit you're hurting," Dirk sneered. "That ain't my problem."
"I thought you were going after your old man," Brennen said, evenly.
Dirk chuckled. "Think I'd buy a story like that?" he snorted. "My old man is too smart to ditch us. I just wanted to see what kind of game you'd play."
He pulled out his pistol then and waved it at Brennen. "Roll over, big man, I want to make sure your wrists are that tightly tied before I loosen them."
Brennen moaned again, squirming his body painfully, fighting for time. He pushed the knife away from him, hoping that it would be out of sight when he finally turned over.
Grunting with the effort, he rolled onto his belly, his hands falling to his sides.
Dirk chuckled. "I thought so," he murmured. "Now where's Billy, asshole?"
"Inside with your sister," Brennen whispered. "She's got his gun.
"Then I'll make a little trade right now," Dirk laughed. "You for him."
He cupped his hand over his mouth and shouted to the shack. "Come on out with Billy, sis," he called. "Or I'll take care of the big man, and then you."
Inside the shack, Billy was cackling wildly. "What now, sister dear?" he laughed. "He'll do it, you know. He's been aching to do it ever since we got you."
Shelly waved the weapon at her brother. "In front of me, Billy," she hissed. "You're going out first, and I'll be right behind you, you bastard."
Billy shrugged. "Don't matter to me," he laughed. "You're game's up, anyway."
Brennen wasn't looking at the shack as Shelly and Billy emerged. His eyes were fixed on Dirk Mims, watching his every move as the two people walked slowly into the sunlight. He licked his lips, nervously, feeling his own chance slipping away.
"Give Billy the gun, sis," Dirk growled. "Then get your ass out of the way."
Shelly shook her head. "Back off, Dirk," she hissed. "We're leaving here."
"Don't fuck with me, Shelly," Dirk growled. "I've had enough of it."
She shook her head. "So have I," she snarled. "And I'm not giving this up for anything. I know what you're planning, Dirk, and I'm not playing anymore!"
Dirk Mims was shivering with murderous rage, now. His eyes were flashing wildly, and in his blind anger, he took a step toward his sister. Brennen saw his eyes leaving him, and he leaped toward the young man, with a scream.
He slammed into Dirk's legs, knocking him to the ground. They struggled wildly in the dirt, rolling back and forth as they both tried to hold onto his pistol.
In front of them, the other two people watched in tense anticipation, Shelly's hand shaking violently as her fear and horror grew steadily. Billy was grinning viciously, sensing his sister's fear and doubt growing in back of him.
On the ground, Dirk Mims was pounding at Brennen's head, lashing at him with his fists.
Brennen's hands were throbbing with agony, almost so unbearable that he could not hold nor hit the younger man.
He felt Dirk's fingers around his throat then, squeezing fiercely, and he clawed at the young man's vise-like grip. He could feel himself getting dizzy and weak from the lack of air, and he brought his knee up hard into Dirk's groin.
Grunting with pain, Dirk released his grip of Brennen and the man fell back into the dirt, scrambling toward the knife. At that moment, Billy Mims turned around and slapped his sister hard across the face. She fell back and he leaped for her hand, grasping wildly for the gun she was holding.
Dirk Mims roared with anger and grabbed a piece of fire wood from beside the camp fire.
He lifted it high over his head, aiming to smash it down on the head of Brennen, but the tall, lean man jumped forward, driving the knife he held, deep into the pit of the young man's belly.
Dirk gasped in pain and horror and stumbled back, clutching the handle of the knife in both hands. He twisted around, lurching from side to side, trying desperately to pull the blade out of his bleeding belly.
With a sobbing moan, he fell to his knees, wailed in pain and frustration, then tumbled to his side without another sound. Brennen was breathing heavily as he gazed at Billy struggling with his sister. He crawled quickly toward Dirk's gun lying there in the sand, and grabbed hold of it, just as Billy ripped the pistol from Shelly's hand.
The young man shoved her aside, viciously and turned, firing wildly. Brennen lay face down in the sand and took careful aim as the shots sang over his head. He fired three times, hitting Billy twice in the chest and once in the upper left thigh.
The youth uttered a surprised grunt as he spun around with the impact of the shots and slammed hard against the side of the shack. Moaning quietly, he slid to the ground.
For several seconds, neither Brennen nor Shelly Pickering moved. Then the lean man got to his feet and quickly pulled the shivering, sobbing young woman to hers.
"No time for that, now," he snarled. "We have to get them out of sight."
She gasped, taking a few deep breaths then nodded. "I'm ready," she whispered.
Together, they dragged the bodies of the two young men into the shack and then slipped around behind a group of rocks, several feet from the camp site. Brennen held Dirk's pistol gingerly in his aching fingers, licking his lips, nervously.
They waited there all afternoon, gazing intently into the direction from which they knew Frank Mims would arrive. Shelly Pickering dozed now and then, and she was startled awake by the sound of the jeep in the distance.
As Frank Mims pulled up in the jeep, he jumped out, a brief case in his hand. He glanced around the camp site suspiciously, then put his hand to his mouth to call out. Brennen took careful aim with the pistol and shouted to him.
"Don't bother, Mims," he called. "They're both dead."
Frank Mims' face grew taut, then he smiled, thinly. "Well, Friend, looks like you got the best of me," he chuckled, dropping the suitcase in the dirt. "I guess I'll just have to call it quits and be on my way, then, right?"
"Stay where you are, Frank," Brennen called. "I'm taking you in."
Frank Mims turned his back, cackling wildly. "You won't fire on me, Brennen," he laughed.
"I know the kind of man you are. Now I'm gonna leave, so just relax " He walked slowly to the jeep, gunned the engine and drove off, leaving the two people staring at him from behind the rocks. When he was a small speck in the distance, Brennen sighed and stood up, shaking his head in self-disgust.
"They'll get him," murmured Shelly Pickering, coldly. "You did the right thing."
Brennen grunted and together they walked down to the camp site. Brennen picked up the brief case and opened it, shaking his head at the mounds of bills inside.
Their backs were to the road, and they only vaguely heard the roar of the jeep's engine approaching as Frank Mims came racing back over the road, firing the rifle wildly as he braced it against the hood of the jeep.
Leaping to their feet, Shelly dove for cover, while Brennen emptied his pistol at the approaching vehicle. He punctured a tire and the jeep over turned, throwing Frank Mims to the ground. Quickly the man stood and fired wildly at Brennen.
One of the shots tore into Brennen's shoulder and he stumbled backward, the pistol flying from his hand. He fell hard to the ground and Frank Mims cackled in delight, getting to his feet and jamming more shells into the breech of the rifle.
"You should have finished it when you had the chance, friend," he hissed.
"No, Daddy," growled Shelly Pickering, holding the pistol on him. "No."
Frank laughed and spun around, pulling the trigger on the rifle. The shot went wide, and very calmly, Shelly Pickering pulled on the trigger to the pistol, snapping it again and again, until it was empty and her father was face down in the smoldering camp fire.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Brennen smiled as Shelly Pickering walked into his room, dressed in a bright, flowered dress. Behind her was her father-in-law, beaming with pride. "I won't stay long," the man said. "Only to tell you I intend to back you in your ranch all the way, Mister Brennen."
Brennen smiled, then turned to Shelly. "You look pretty," he whispered. "Better than ever, Pickering."
She turned to her father-in-law, and with an embarrassed grunt, the old man turned and left them alone in the room. Grinning, Shelly Pickering quickly locked the door.
"Nurses won't like that," Brennen whispered as he watched her unzipping her dress.
"Daddy Pickering will take care of them," she murmured. "I have business with you."
She shrugged her shoulders, allowing the dress to slither down the length of her lithe body, and gracefully stepped out of the garment. Placing the dress over the back of a chair, she then turned to face him again.
Brennen was staring at her body, hungrily, his eyes locked on the twin cups of her shapeless bra, straining to hold her tiny, but firm breasts within. His eyes wandered down to her hips and thighs, and he shuddered as he gazed at her crotch.
"Like what you see, Mister Brennen," she giggled. "Want to see more?"
She didn't wait for him to respond, but reached behind her back and unhooked the clasps to her bra. It slid down her shoulders, quietly and she tossed the garment onto the chair, allowing her breasts to swing back and forth in an enticing fashion.
Brennen moaned, his cock beginning to harden beneath the sheet that covered him and his balls starting to pound with excitement. He watched carefully as she hooked her thumbs into the waist band of her panties and slithered them down her legs.
Giggling, she walked over to the bed, then, and pulled the sheet back. She smiled at the long, hard shaft quivering between his legs and bent over, curling her fingers around the pulsating weapon. The smooth, teasing sensation of her fingers caressing his manhood made Brennen shudder uncontrollably on the bed.
"Ummm, already hard and hot, huh?" she chuckled, pushing him over with her buttocks as she sat down on the bed. "Bet I know what it would like."
"Damn, you're too much for me," groaned the lean man. "Just too much, Lady!"
Shelly Pickering laughed, and turned around, leaning over the hot, thick prong she held up-right with her hand. Lovingly, she bent her head to his rod and kissed the fevered surface of it with her moist, luscious petals.
Brennen shivered once more as he felt her tongue lashing at his cock, darting and stabbing at his knob in a wicked manner. He grasped at her thighs, anxiously, digging his fingers into the flesh of her smooth, supple limbs. He pulled her body around and pressed his own hungry mouth to the rim of her soft damp quivering hillock.
"Ahh, yes, this, is what I want to eat," he moaned softly. "Every bit of you!"
Shelly moaned in pleasure as she felt his teeth nibbling on her cunt lips, and his tongue darting greedily at her clit. She sighed contentedly and rolled over his body, resting her legs on either side of his head, when she pressed her lips to his tool.
"So big and hard, I love it," she murmured anxiously. "Love every inch of it!"
She moved her lips and tongue over his tool, then, and wrapped her lips around the hard, hot helmet. Brennen moaned fiercely once more as she fed his prick into her mouth, greedily slithering the prong to the depths of her silken throat.
Her cunt was throbbing with intensity as the man rode his lips and tongue over the luscious mound. He slithered the tip of his dart in a lazy circle around the twitching button of her clit, then caught it between his teeth and sucked, greedily..
As she buried the prick deep in her throat, sucking frantically on the root of his shaft, Brennen dug his fingers into the spongy flesh of her buttocks and pulled her cunt tightly to his face, driving his tongue between her soft, damp pussy lips.
She shivered in delight as she felt his spear lathering her inner walls. It flicked back and forth along the length of her channel, teasing her flesh, greedily.
She rocked back and forth on his face, and pumped her mouth up and down on his prick.
Dragging her teeth along his flesh, she lashed at the hard, hot pole viciously, while she sucked on it as hard as she could to urge him on Brennen's prick felt as if it were on fire.
Her teeth and tongue stimulated his need beyond belief, and every time she rode the shaft into the depths of her velvet sleeve, he felt as if his shaft might explode from the sheer intensity of his delight.
He shuddered and quaked under her bobbing mouth and lashing spear, and pumped his tongue back and forth inside her pussy, ruthlessly. He felt her cunt muscles kneading his dart, and her pussy lips fluttering wildly against his lips as he sucked on them.
The nightmare of a few days before was all but erased from their minds in this moment.
Their flesh was on fire with greedy wanting, the harsh, stabbing pain of desire.
Brennen could feel the hard points of her nipples digging into his belly, and her bottom was tingling with the excitement his kneading fingers were giving her.
The young woman shivered and quaked as he powered his tongue into her pussy, and each time he drove it deep into her pit, and sucked the luscious cream from her cave, she thought she might die from the sheer, overwhelming pleasure she was receiving.
Hungrily, she rode his prick in and out of her throat. She loved the taste of his manly need on her tongue, and the throbbing delight of his cock beating fiercely against the moist, taut walls of her lovely channel.
Again and again she rode his prick into her mouth, bobbing her head wildly, now, while squirming her cunt down hard on his face and thrilling to the exquisite lash of his tongue.
"Ohh, Jesus, yes, Brennen, yes," she gasped as she pulled her head from his tool. "God, that's so good! That's everything, Brennen, everything I ever wanted!"
Brennen moaned softly, his balls and cock on fire with a lovely, stinging pain. He felt her tongue stabbing at his tool again, and her teeth nibbling greedily on the rim of his helmet, and he was certain that he was going to explode at any moment.
Her cunt walls were undulating uncontrollably against his tongue. He could feel them growing tight and ready, rippling with the orgasm that was building in her loins. Moaning savagely, he pushed her off of him, and began to turn his body over hers.
"I want you, Shelly," he gasped. "Jesus, do I want you, now!"
She laughed wildly, spreading her thighs wide apart to accept him, her arms over her head, clutching at the end of the bed. She felt him settling down between her damp, quivering limbs and she gasped in delight as she felt his cock resting against her belly, pulsating with a hot, savage power and greed.
"Ummm, you're all I ever want, Brennen," she chuckled breathlessly. "I'm telling you, big man, you're all I will ever want or need!"
Brennen moaned, clasping his mouth over hers and kissing her fiercely. Her lips and teeth were parted, and as their tongues met in a greedy, demanding kiss, he felt her cunt rubbing against his groin insistently.
He slithered his tool down along the cleft between her cunt lips, then, and the taut, pounding head of his meat slipped between them. Shelly groaned as he entered her, her pussy once more alive with the excitement of having his shaft inside of her.
