Slaveduties BDSM Blog of a 24/7 slave

Chapter 1

The stars were just beginning to appear in the evening sky. They came
out one by one, like shy virgins, and then twinkled magnificently in the
clear deep dark blue of the early evening.

Lena hurried from the farmhouse with her milk pails in her hands. Her
face was thrust into the dark heavy collar of her coat, and it scratched
her soft cheek. The harsh words of her parents, screaming at each other,
still rang in her ears, and it wasn’t until she was halfway across the
yard that she looked up and saw the bright stars in the sky. Then she
stopped and gazed at them, and wished on the first one she had seen for
a better life.

She didn’t know any other kind of life except that which took place
within the small confines of the little Iowa farm where she lived with
her parents. Life had been better when her brother, Ret, had still lived
with them. But he had grown up and gone away run away from the life of
brutal words and harsh treatment that their father meted out to everyone
on his land.

“You screaming bitch, you’re no better than a whore! You deserve to be
treated like a whore!”

Lena turned and saw her father’s raised arm strike her mother to the
floor through the lighted kitchen window. With a sob she turned again
and hurried to the barn. She opened the big door and then closed it and
went down the row of cows to Tess, her favorite cow.

Tess’s udders were heavy tonight and Tess mooed in great pain and
pleasure as she saw Lena approaching with her milking pails. Lena had
barely positioned the pail under Tess and placed her hands on the cow’s
heavy tits when the milk began to come. Lena deftly directly the
steaming hot stream into one pail, which quickly filled. Another pail
was filled from the same udder, and then two more pails from the second
udder.

She talked to the cow as she milked; “That’s it Tessie, girl. Feel
better now? Didn’t you know I would come out here to milk you? You know
I wouldn’t forget all about my Tessie.” She stroked the cow’s hot sweaty
flanks and the cow turned to look at her with her big, wordless cow
eyes. Lena imagined that the animal understood Lena’s own pain and
sorrow. Every time she witnessed her father striking her mother she felt
a sickness for which she knew no cure. She had been witnessing such
scenes ever since she could remember. But now, as she approached
puberty, the cruelty of her father toward her mother seemed to affect
Lena’s sensitive spirit even more.

She was twelve years old and a very pretty girl, wholesome and healthy
looking with a good clean, farm girl’s complexion: fair with a rosy
blush on her cheeks from working outside, summer, winter, spring and
fall.

She was well developed for a twelve-year-old, as so many farm girls are.
Perhaps it was the environment in which she grew up, witnessing the farm
animals in all the stages of their existence: from birth, infancy,
mating, adulthood, and death. They kept pigs and chickens as well as
cows on their farm, and there were four horses: two old plow horses
which they had from the days when they had a horse drawn plow, and two
beautiful stallions which her father kept for his own riding pleasure.

As she went down the line of milkcows, the barn filled with the warm
soothing smell of fresh hot milk. Together with the smell of the hay in
the loft, and the twinkling of the stars through the loft window, the
barn seemed a world apart from the farmhouse across the yard. The barn
was a place where Lena felt she could be alone, and dream.

Tonight Lena felt she had a lot to dream about. Tonight was a special
night. She had gotten her very first period that very day. Now she was a
woman, though the size and shape of her breasts and the shrinking of her
waist had told her she was a woman for a few months now.

“If I am a woman, now,” she thought to herself, “I should have plans.
I’m not going to spend the rest of my life on this farm, after all.”
Thus ran her thoughts as she stooped under the cows’ bellies with her
pail, and spoke to them soothingly. She liked the feel of her hands
against their smooth full udders. And the hot milk splashing against the
pail and hitting her hands made her laugh. She licked her hands off when
she finished Linda, the brown cow, and moved on to Millie. She had
special names for each one of them, and she spoke to them and told them
of her dreams.

She was just starting on the last of them when she felt a cold blast of
air at her back and she didn’t even have to turn around to sense that
someone was standing behind her. Like an animal, the short hairs at the
back of her neck told her of the man’s presence. She turned around. It
was her father.

She just stared up at him. He was wearing his riding boots under his
greatcoat. Although it was still spring, it was still very cold in the
little northern Iowa country. There might still be more snow this year.

“Finish your work, child,” Roland Hanson said.

Lena turned back to Josie, a pretty dappled creature, but she could feel
her father’s eyes on her back and this made her nervous. She gripped the
cow’s tits clumsily and the milk squirted onto her feet, wetting her
toes through her torn boots. Josie sensed Lena’s nervousness, and let
out a pained moo and swatted her tail furiously. Lena grasped her
harder.

One hoof shot out and the pail was lying on the barn floor, the new milk
flowing over the hay.

“Stupid cunt!” shouted her father. The milk had splattered him too.

Lena kept milking furiously.

She got only half a bucket from Josie and then stood up.

“Are you going riding, Poppa?” Lena asked. She was bending over,
counting the buckets of milk she had filled. Under her coat, her long
breasts fell against her wool sweater.

Her father stood right in front of her and he put his hand under her
coat and squeezed the pendulous breasts.

“What are you …?” Lena began. She had often been aware of him looking
at her, these long winter months this year. But never before had he been
so bold as to touch her.

“Shut up, cunt,” he said and put his big, strong, knobbed hand over her
mouth, effectively gagging her.

“What …?” she tried to break away from him, but her struggles only
made him grip her tighter. As if she was a package he was taking into
town to mail, he picked her up under his arm and carried her in to a
corner of the barn. He threw her down on the hay. He opened his
greatcoat and Lena saw that he wore nothing underneath. She saw his huge
erect genitalia which he seemed to be parading before her, for he just
stood over her and let her look for a few moments, while he swung his
cock a little and let it bounce on top of his balls.

She had seen the genitalia of all the animals on the farm before, but
she had never seen the erect genitalia of a man.

Her father must have weighed 250 pounds. He was a big man who worked
hard all year round and the work put muscles all over him, where city
men have only flab. He fell on her now. She smelled the alcohol on his
breath and tried to turn her face away from the loathsome smell.
Harshly, he had pulled her wool sweater up over her breasts.

“Nice boobs,” he was muttering more to himself than to her. “Nice, nice
boobies,” he was knocking them from side to side, batting at them and
rubbing his unshaven chin in them.

One hand went down and pulled up her skirt and forced its way into her
panties.

She tried to scream and move, but he held her tightly pinned, and his
big knobby fingers forced their way between her tightly closed thighs.

“Fucking virgin tit-woman, fucking shrinking virgin,” he was muttering
as he pinned her legs apart with his legs. Each of his legs was like a
pillar and Lena knew now there was going to be no escape. She looked
down and saw the huge reddened cock taking aim between her thighs and
then he rammed his cock at her unwilling opening.

Her flesh tore and she tried to scream but he had his hand over her
mouth. Straw, hay, pubic hair all got sucked in to her battered hole as
he rammed her again. The first time he had only managed to ram the head
of his cock into her vagina. The hymen had held him out.

Now he battered this last defense. She screamed and screamed under his
hot hand as now he just rammed and rammed his cock into her fully opened
and bleeding hole, seeming to say with each plunge, “I am going to make
a woman out of you. You want to know what it’s like to be a woman? Here,
I’ll show you,” and he’d ram his shaft into her bleeding vagina again.

When he was through he just stood up and left her lying there. He stood
over her again for a moment. He didn’t need to threaten her not to tell
anyone what had just happened. She knew all his threats by now, even
when they were silent.

Then he turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving her alone.

She lay there a long time, crying silently to herself. Was that what
lovemaking was like? Was that what her mother suffered every time her
parents lay down in their bed? Was this what her mother’s frequent
screams in the night signified?

Lena wondered if her mother knew where her husband was going when he
left the house.

With some straw she wiped the blood away from her thighs. But her hole
was still bleeding. She tried to stuff some soft grass up her to stem
the bleeding, but it didn’t seem to help. She wiped her eyes, and pulled
her clothes back on.

Then she went to take the full milk pails around to the kitchen, where
she emptied them into the vat. Then she had the rest of her evening
chores to do.

She scattered feed to the chickens and then climbed up on the pigsty and
threw the pigs their evening swill. Her walk was unbalanced, as if the
ripped, torn and bleeding place between her legs had disjointed her
legs. She had to walk a little bowlegged. The chickens gabbled at her
feet like the Lilliputians around the giant Gulliver. The pigs snorted
and rolled over in delight at receiving their slop. She balanced on the
fence around their sty and put a hand to her crotch, as if to try to
soothe it.

When she turned in to bed that night, she was in still more pain. The
bleeding had stopped but the blood was all in clots now, and every time
she tossed in her restless dreams, she felt a tearing of flesh around
her vagina and she dreamed again and again that she was being raped.

“Good morning, sunshine!”

Lena opened her eyes to bright spring sunshine and the smell of bacon
frying in the kitchen. The world seemed bright and beautiful. It was a
Saturday and after her chores she would have the day to herself. She was
young and she was a woman now–today was the second day of her first
period. These were the first thoughts to run through her head.

She swung her legs off the cot.

“Ohhhhhhh!” she stopped short as the ripping pain between her legs
brought back the most brutal memory of yesterday.

“What did you say, honey?” called her mother’s voice from the kitchen.

“Nothing!” she called back. Slowly she raised her flannel nightie and
surveyed the damage. Her menstrual flow was all over her thighs as well
as some additional bleeding that had started up in the night from the
torn membrane of her virginity. She cleaned herself up sadly, and very
gently inserted a Kotex up her raw vagina.

She showered and got dressed, dreading to see her father again.

But her mother had good news for her.

“Your father left early this morning. He went in to town and he’ll be
away all day, until supper.”

Lena said nothing. She sat down at the place her mother had fixed for
her and hungrily devoured the eggs and bacon and biscuits. She and her
mother never discussed her father, but there was an unacknowledged
understanding between them, that mother and daughter were allies against
the stern man. As allies, they were both helpless, but the flow of
sympathy between them was strong, if unspoken, when, after he had abused
mother or daughter with his blows, he left them alone to each other.

“What did he go to town for?” Lena asked sullenly.

“He went to see about Joe King’s bull. He wants to mate it with our
cows,” said Mrs. Hanson. She had been a pretty woman in her youth, with
long blonde hair and a creamy complexion that Lena, her daughter, had
inherited.

But Mara Hanson, though all of 39 years old, was only a faded image of
her former pretty self. Years of hard farm work, and her husband’s
contempt and brutality had made her blonde hair grey, and her face worn
and anxious looking. She had brought five children into the world. One,
the oldest, a son, had been born stillborn. Two had died in infancy.
Then Clark and Lena had come. A sixth baby, unknown to her husband, had
died under a local midwife’s hand, in a barn. Mrs. Hanson’s body, under
her thin housedress, reminded Lena of an old cow that has birthed too
many calves and has no milk to give any more.

“Did you sleep well, my darling?” asked her mother.

“No, Mom,” Lena confessed.

“You know you shouldn’t let what your father said last night worry you
too much. He seems harsh but he only has your best interests at heart,”
said the self-deluding woman, scrubbing the greasy skillet at the sink.

“Mom, come sit down for a minute,” said Lena. The night before she had
left the house in the middle of her parents’ argument about her.

When she had discovered her period yesterday afternoon, she had told her
mother about it. Her mother had told her father. That night her father
began laying down the rules of her new life, at dinner.

“You will not leave this farm unaccompanied by your mother or myself,”
he said forking a slab of roast beef into his mouth. “You will not let
yourself be alone with any of the boys at school,” he continued sloshing
up the gravy on his plate with a hunk of bread.

“Roland, I think we can trust the girl a little bit. She’s only twelve,
after all. She doesn’t have such thoughts on her mind yet.”

“They’re never too young for such thoughts,” spat out her father. “I
won’t have any pulling bastard babies sitting at my table. If I ever
find you with your legs open to any of the stupid yokels around here so
help me I’ll …” the thought made him so angry he choked on the meat in
his throat and at his inability to find words harsh enough to explain
what he would do to her, if he ever found her in the positions of love.

“Momma, why did you TELL him, about my period, I mean,” Lena took her
mother by the hand and made her sit down at the table.

“Well, he’s your father, I thought he should know that his little
daughter is a woman now. In my day, when a girl had her first bleeding,
her mother and her grandmother slapped her on the face and then kissed
her and there was a big celebration. It was an occasion of celebration,”
she said sadly and the vague look that came into her eyes more and more
often now, crept in.

Lena shook her mother’s hand to bring her back. “What was it like in
those days, when you were a girl?” she asked.

“Oh honey, you know I’ve told you all about it many times.”

“Yes, but tell me again.”

Lena came over and sat in her mother’s lap and her mother stroked her
hair as if she were a little girl still and began reciting, “In those
days we were a huge family. Grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and
uncles, cousins oh my! the cousins. And for every holiday we’d all get
together, at one of the sisters’ or brothers’ houses, and all the women
would start cooking and all the men would be smoking and talking, or
playing games, horseshoes the older men would play, while all the
children would be a’playing together, and getting into trouble. My, the
fine times we had,” she sighed.

“And what happened when you grew up?” asked Lena, snuggling against her
mother’s breasts.

“Well, then the beaus came. One by one, all the sisters of all the
branches of the family married off. The young men would come a’calling
on Ôem, and end up leading them off to the church. And my turn came, and
I went like the rest of them.”

“What was he like in those days?”

“Who? Oh, your father. He was a good-looking man. Still is. Oh yes, I
always thought he was good-looking. Roland Hanson, son of one of the
first family of Swedes in this district. With his family’s canning
business to inherit, I couldn’t believe that that good-looking well-off
man was interested in ME! Course I was pretty then,” her eyes became
clouded again, as if a cloud were passing over her mind.

“Momma, WHY did you tell him?” Lena got up and stood over her mother.
Mrs. Hanson didn’t move. Lena shook her by the shoulders.

“Mother! Why did you tell him?”

“Tell him what? Tell who?” Mrs. Hanson raised her worn and weary face to
the bright eyes of her daughter. Wisps of her thinning grey hair fell in
her face.

“Father! About my period!”

“Honey, I thought he ought to know. You know I have to tell him
everything,” her mother’s voice became vague.

“I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU FOR TELLING HIM!” Lena screamed and she ran out
of the kitchen slamming the back door behind her.

Mrs. Hanson looked after her in astonishment. She heard Lena’s heavy
steps across the yard and then the sound faded. She must have gone into
the barn, thought Mrs. Hanson. She turned back to her kitchen table and
stared at the unwashed cups and plates on the dirty tablecloth.

When Lena left the house she ran across the yard scattering the
chickens, past the barn, across the driveway and out into the pasture.
Her father had let the cows out early that morning, and they had already
worked their way to the far corner. She kept running past them. It was
only when she got to the top of the wooded rise that divided their land
that she stopped running. She walked across the field being plowed for
spring planting. The dark earth lay in broken furrows; the hard dark
earth lying in freshly turned clumps. This field would be wheat.

She reached the far field that was being left to lie fallow for a
season. The short spiky husks of the stalks of last summer’s corn
stubbled this field. At the end of this field she saw the stallions
running across the land.

Her father’s stallions were beauties. Tall, proud creatures, strong as
oxen and very fast, her father had paid a king’s ransom for them. He
loved to ride but didn’t have time to ride them everyday, so he had
hired one of the neighbor boys, Brad King, to exercise them.

Lena watched Brad now, riding the back of one of the stallions, Black
Pride. The other animal, Red Beauty, was running free alongside. Brad,
on top of his horse, looked like a toy figure in the distance. He was
waving one arm and shouting or singing something. She watched them ride
by across her horizon.

The days passed very slowly now. Life was like a burden to her. Everyday
she woke with a sick feeling in her stomach to face a lifeless kind of
life, of not speaking to her father, while doing his bidding in the
house, barely speaking to her mother, whose silent hurt look made Lena
hate herself even more. The best part of the day was going to sleep and
the worst part was waking up. Every waking moment was spent dreading her
father’s next attack.

And he did attack again. He caught her from behind in the kitchen the
next Sunday when her mother was out at church. Father and daughter both
refused to go to church. Lena had figured if she stayed in the house he
wouldn’t try to touch her, but she was wrong.

With his arms around her waist he dragged her outside across the yard to
the barn. Her screams and cries of dismay made him laugh, and as she
beat on his head as hard as she could with her fists he only laughed
more. His head dodged her fists as if they were flies.

“Okay, my beauty, I know you’ve been waiting for this.” He threw her
down on a dank pile of straw.

He stood over her grinning. His face was unshaven and his teeth
blackened with snuff and tobacco juice. His lips were split and dry. He
brought his thick tongue out over the lips and softened them. He pulled
out his pants and brought out his cock.

She stared at the pink raw thing, pointed like a spear, and the huge
balls that bulged under them. She lay on the straw panting from fear.

At his next move, which was to fall on her, she scrambled to her feet.
He got up as quickly and then they stood there, facing each other across
a milk pail like two wrestlers sizing each other up. The barn door was
behind her and she wondered if she could run for it.

She didn’t have time to think for he took her by surprise with his fist
in her jaw which sent her sprawling. Once she was down he kicked her in
the cunt and she lay there writhing in pain.

He left her and went and got a harness from one of the stallion’s
stalls. Before she knew it she found he was tying her up to a post in
the barn with the straps of the bit around her face.

When he had her tied down so that she couldn’t move, he ripped her dress
off and just stared for awhile at her large white tits and the brown
nipples that hung on the ends of them. He walked up to her and pressed
his cock into her tits. She writhed with revulsion.

Then he pressed his cock into her mouth. She screamed and tried to shake
her head from side to side, but the huge male member was firmly forcing
its way into her throat.

Her father squatted on top of her, turning to look at her tits and twist
her nipples from time to time, and as he did this he drove his cock home
deeper and deeper into her throat until she was almost choking which was
when he came in a sea of creamy come.

* * *

Lena went out to the stallions’ stalls at one o’clock that night. She
couldn’t sleep, the house seemed stifling. Her mother had come home from
church that night and made supper. She had remarked on how unusually
quiet her family had become and had said, well if no one had anything
else to say she would tell them what happened at church that day. She
had talked all through dinner, and after dinner Mr. Hanson had left the
house. Lena sat up with her mother for a few more hours letting her
mother chatter, and then had gone to bed, complaining of being very
tired.

However she hadn’t been able to sleep for a moment. Turning and turning
in bed she waited until she heard her mother go to sleep. Her father
wouldn’t be home at all that night, she knew. Often he went off in the
truck and didn’t come home until morning. Now she slipped into the
stallion’s stall, which was on the other side of the barn from the cows.

Black Pride and Red Beauty were both awake. Their bright black eyes
stared at her with curiosity. Lena didn’t know what drove her here.
Perhaps it was because after the sordidness of the experience tonight,
she sought out some contact with real beauty.

She was never allowed to ride the stallions. Her father said a woman’s
flesh on their backs would spoil their dispositions permanently. But she
rode the other horses and loved to ride.

The stallions knew her. She slipped them apples and sugar from time to
time. She had some sugar with her now, and each horse licked the cubes
in her hand. She began stroking them. Red Beauty was her favorite. The
creatures reddish tone was brilliant beneath the open sky and sun, and
even here in the dark barn his coat gave off a reddish glow.

She stroked his neck and flanks. She found a brush and began brushing
his coat on his back and stomach. Suddenly she noticed that the animal’s
genitals were erect. His cock was black but his balls had the reddish
tinge of his coat. To her the size of the horse’s cock was the normal
size of a cock. The male horses’ genitals were a familiar sight to her.
Her father’s cock, small and paltry in comparison, made her laugh now.
The mere thought of it: the stupid man’s pride in his genitalia, so
unimpressive beside the fine equipment of this animal here.

Without thinking what she was doing, she slipped underneath the animal
and began stroking his cock and balls. The animal bridled at first but
it stood quite still, quivering as she slipped her hands quickly across
the erect span of HARD flesh. The penis became wet under her hands.

She stopped once and heard the animal growl.

She slipped off her panties and bent over under the horse. His legs were
so long that she could stand bent over under his stomach. She parted her
buttocks with her hands and backed onto the horse’s cock. It went
smoothly into her.

The animal stood quite still as the girl slid back and forth on his wet
cock, hard and pointing like an accusing finger. She laughed as she came
at the wonder of the animal’s hugeness and the depths to which his cock
could reach.

Chapter 2

The spring became sweet again. Or bittersweet. She always loved the
ripening of the leaves on the trees, the slow emergence of green all
over the land, the softening up of the earth. It rained for one week
straight and then the whole farm became mud and she had to muck through
the yard in big boots to do her chores.

She went to school every day and avoided the advances of the local boys.
If her father ever found her flirting with one of them he would kill
her, or come close to it she knew that. Now he would come to the
schoolyard sometimes and watch her playing through the fence. Her games
became stiff and self-conscious then, and her girlfriends noticed the
strange situation, and they became distant. They were all afraid of
Lena’s father and ran to the far yard of the schoolyard when they saw
him watching them.

Sometimes he waited for her after school, waiting in the truck while all
the other kids went by, until he saw her. He would signal to her with
his finger, and she would have to leave her other girlfriends.

“My father’s here to pick me up again, I have to go,” she said with an
unhappy look on her face. Her girlfriend Ellen squeezed her hand and
kissed her cheek before running off with the other girls. Lena would
climb into the truck next to her father.

He usually took her to an abandoned barn he knew about down by
Kingfisher River. Usually she was sobbing at first, as he stopped the
truck and pulled her out. He pulled her stumbling behind him to the
shack where he made her lie on the floor and put his cock in her mouth
or cunt.

He whispered to her coarsely at these times: “I like your cunt, my girl.
Not every man’s got a daughter with such pussy on her.”

He liked to part her cunt with his dirty fingers to ready it for his
reddened cock. He liked to force his cock between her teeth and down her
throat.

For a few weeks he would take her only from behind, forcing her to her
knees so he could drive his shaft home into the mound that stuck out
between her thighs.

He couldn’t keep his hands off her boobs, and he began to grow bolder,
sticking his hands inside her shirt to squeeze her boobs couched in her
white bra, as he passed her in the hall at home.

Still, every time her father took her as his sullen victim, she sought
revenge by going out into the barn that night and finding pleasure with
his horse. For as much revulsion as her father evoked in her, ten times
greater was the pleasure with the stallion Red Beauty.

She rigged a harness for herself, by which she could strap herself to
the animal’s underside, belly to belly. Her legs boldly apart, her cunt
pink and wet and wanting, strapped to her hero, she rode to glory with
his long horsecock poling into her hole.

She had seen horses mate before, and she had seen these stallions mate.
The male of the horse species mates ferociously with its female.

But for her, Red Beauty remained almost completely still, as if
hypnotized. The horse seemed to sense quite clearly that another than
one of his kind was mounting him, and with his silence and his
acquiescence he seemed to be paying homage to the higher species which
sought him out. He seemed to understand the honor she was paying him,
and he let her pay it freely.

Horsecock was the only thing that could satisfy her now. She laughed at
school when the boys took interest in her, or when the other girls had
crushes on this boy or that. The other girls didn’t understand her. She
acted so superior when it came to boys but they never saw her go out
with one.

“Boys don’t interest me,” was all she would ever say to enlighten the
mystery. “And men? Well, I’m waiting to see a real man. I don’t believe
I’ve ever seen one.”

“What are you crazy? Mr. Nolte’s a man and he teaches right here in this
school. Your father’s a man and you see others, what do you mean you’ve
never seen a real man?” asked Ellen. Ellen was a tall thin girl who felt
very self-conscious because of her height. She towered above all the
boys in their class. Her body had not begun developing yet, and she
still had only little nipples for breasts.

Lena looked at Mr. Nolte walking by, a bald man with an undefined bundle
between his legs, under his baggy pants, and she had to laugh.

Ellen looked at her peculiarly and walked away.

Mr. Hanson did not appear at the schoolyard for a week. He was in town
arranging for the transfer of the King bull to his farm to mate with his
cows. Some of the cows were birthing now in the spring from the last
time he brought the bull to them. He wanted another litter in the
making. He received good prices on his calves.

Joe King agreed to bring his bull around the next Saturday. Roland
Hanson looked forward to the occasion. He forgot about his daughter for
a while and contented himself evenings taking his stallions, first one
then the other, out for rides across the countryside.

Lena watched from behind the fence as the figure of her father, burly
and heavy, on the swift shape of Red Beauty became a speck on the
horizon. She grew angry thinking of her father’s thighs goading Red
Beauty’s flanks. She knew that her father’s whip would be no more
sparing to his horse than his words or actions were to his wife and
daughter.

But there was nothing she could do about this anger. She couldn’t even
speak of it to anyone, and now, her beauty, which was taking shape and
growing every day, began to take on a sullen, inward look.

Brad King came by one evening to pick up his pay from her father and she
was in the yard when he pulled up in his car. He had a ‘68 Chevy with
all the chrome polished on it, and she admired the car.

“You like her, huh?” Brad stuck his head out the window and asked her.
“Yep, I paid for her and fixed her all up myself. You should have seen
her when I first got her,” he shook his head.

“Well my father’s not home right now He went out riding about an hour
ago.”

“Well, I guess I could wait a while, see if he comes back. I sure could
use that dough,” he eyed her up and down. She was wearing a pair of old
blue jeans and thin red shirt.

“You and me should go out some time,” he said. “I’ll take you for a ride
in my jalopy.”

She laughed sadly. “No, I don’t think so.” Brad was already graduated
from high school. He was eighteen years old and already looked like a
man. He had been working his father’s land since he was a kid and had
grown straight into a man’s big body. He had sandy-colored hair, like
her own, and blue-grey eyes with a kind look to them. He had thin hungry
looking lips. He shifted in his seat.

“Why not? Don’t you think I’m good enough for you?” He looked at the
plump mounds jiggling right under the thin red fabric of her blouse and
he allowed his glance to slip down to the v-shaped wrinkles of her tight
jeans as they gripped her between the legs. He remembered that she was
only twelve years old.

“I’m too young to go out with boys. Besides, my father would kill me.”

“Oh, so your father don’t want you seeing no men,” he eyed the shape of
her ass as she bent down to tie her moccasin.

They heard a galloping against the earth and saw Mr. Hanson come riding
across the field behind the barn. He rode up and stopped the horse
between them.

“What are you doing there, son?” he asked speaking down to the boy in
the car. “Just talking to your daughter while I was waiting for you,
sir. Remember you said you’d have my pay for me today?”

“Oh yes, I’ll go in the house and get it. And you, get on with your
chores, sister. Don’t be wasting your time chitter-chattering with those
mooney eyes.”

“I swear,” he went on in the kitchen as he counted out the money to Brad
King, “they say in the church that women are pure and saintly, but every
woman I’ve ever known has been hornier than a female feline in heat.

Except the female of the human species is like that ALL THE TIME.
Fifty-sixty-sixty-five,” he counted out.

“Don’t you agree with me, Brad?” he asked.

“Yessir,” said Brad.

“Listen, don’t you let me catch you hanging around my little Lena. That
girl’s very precious to me, and I won’t have no country hicks knocking
her up before her time. You hear me, boy?”

“Yessir. Nothing could be farther from my mind,” Brad said.

* * *

Her father took her brutally that night. He made no show of hiding what
he was about. After dinner, while her mother was at the sink doing the
dishes, Lena tried on a new dress she had ordered through the mail. It
had just come that day. Her mother pinned it up for her and then she
went to her room and changed back into her jeans. She sat cross-legged
on the floor, watching TV, with pins in her mouth, as she sewed. She had
a good, clever little stitch. All the while her father sat smoking and
watching her. He watched every movement of her tits beneath her blouse,
and every strain of the denim across her cunt.

Lena was aware of his eyes, but felt safe because of her mother’s
presence. Surely he couldn’t take her right in front of her mother.

Suddenly he swooped down on her, scattering her dish of pins, and simply
picked her up and carried her through the kitchen and out of the house
under his arm.

“Roland, what are you doing?” screeched and flapped his wife Mara at the
kitchen door as she watched her husband carry her daughter to the barn.

“Shut up and keep out of here,” he merely roared at her over her
shoulder.

She stood for a moment nervously wringing a towel in her hand as she
stared at the closed barn door.

Inside, Roland Hanson tied his daughter’s neck to the base of one of the
posts. He didn’t have to fear her flailing arms and legs.

“Mother! MOTHER!” she was screaming.

“No, cunt, I’m your father,” he slapped her face back and forth until
she stopped screaming. He left the red imprint of his fingers across her
face He parted her thighs with his rough knees. His own thighs were like
mountains, thick and heavy and strong. The white skin of her own thighs,
cruelly parted, against his, was like cream lying beside mutton.

His cock was hurting him in his pants. The tip of it stuck above the
waistband. He tore the buckle open on his belt and unzipped his fly. He
squashed his cock into her face, dragging the end of the huge member
across her cheeks and lips and nose, across her eyes, smashing her face
with it.

“So you got the hots for Brad King, do you. Open your eyes and take your
fill of the likes of a real man,” he snarled in her ear.

She opened her eyes in time to witness his cock take aim for a moment
over her mouth. His hands, one on her upper and one on her lower jaw,
pried her mouth open. She watched the cock descend into her small gaping
mouth.

It filled all the space between her tongue and the roof of her mouth,
then pushed further into the hole of her throat. Again and again he
raised and then lowered himself down into the soft cunt-like flesh of
her throat, while she choked and sputtered and tried to keep breathing
through her nose.

“You think Brad King’s thingie is as big and bad as mine,” he whispered
evilly into her ear.

She was just breathing and trying to open her mouth wide to allow him
the kind of access he insisted on, so he would get his rocks off and let
her loose.

But he wanted an answer to his question.

He reached behind him, as he sat on her chest plunging his cock into her
face, for her boobs. He found one with one hand and he juggled it in his
hand so full and weighty was it. He found and juggled the other one.
Then his fingers sought the nipple, which he treated with a sharp twist.

“Owwww,” a gurgled sound came out of her full mouth, and she tossed her
head, which made her choke even more as she was brought up short by the
leather thong around her neck.

“Do you think his cock is as big as mine?” he demanded of her again
giving the nipple another good hard twist.

“Nnnnn,” she shook her head from side to side.

He seemed satisfied with her answer for he jumped out, pulling his cock
out of her mouth and he stood above her naked body.

Kneeling he forced her legs apart again and he surveyed the pink pussy
lying helpless before him, couched in her wheat-colored cunt hair. He
spat on the cunt to make it slippery wet.

“Driest fucking cunt in the Midwest,” he said with contempt.

Then he made a fist and began to try to shove it in her now wet cunt.
She shrieked with pain, for he had grabbed some of her hair in his fist,
and he was mercilessly trying to get all five of his crumpled fingers
and knotted knuckles up her at once, and indeed he did. He kept at it
until he had worked his fist all the way in.

He chortled, “Look!” he said. “Look!” he shook his fist in her cunt
swinging her body around, and she, exhausted, tried to raise her head
and look as he said.

She saw him, the end of his arm sunk way deep into her. He looked like
an amputee.

“Now I’ve got you where I want you!” he said. “If you ever so much as
breathe in Brad King’s direction, do you know what I’ll do to you?” he
asked.

Again he forced her to make some kind of answer. She shook her head. He
told her.

“I’ll stuff all kinds of things into you, I’ll fuck with anything I can
find lying around. I’ll fuck you so good and so long and so hard that no
man will want your raggedy meat after that. I’ll make your cunt loose
its memory that there’s any such thing as a another man’s cock in the
world.”

Now he yanked his fist out. He prepared his cock for its meal, basting
it with some of his own spit.

But as he opened her cunt with his fingers he looked at the pussyflesh
and realized he wanted to eat her out. Father sank his mouth into
daughter’s cunt and his thick hot tongue was ravaging her cunt, biting
on the nub of flesh between the outer labia. He poked her clitoris with
a bent finger, while his tongue stuck into her cunt depths, and she
writhed and screamed at this new humiliation.

To have this huge, hideously ugly man who had fathered her, open her
legs and stick his tongue in her sickened her and made her scream
hysterically. Finally he removed his face from her cunt with a big grin
for he had woman come smeared all over his lips.

“Sickening, they’re all the same,” he muttered to himself, and now he
took his cock in his hand and plunged into the melting butter of her
cunt. She was softer and juicier than she had ever been before, and he
sank right into her cunt up to the hilt of his shaft. She was all
pussysoft inside, like a juicy quilt. His dick throbbed and trembled as
he withdrew it slowly, only to plunge it again. His foreskin slid up and
down over his cock and there was cuntjuice all over.

He increased the friction over his penis’ head by jamming in and out
faster and faster. The cock made a sucking sound every time it came in
and out of her passive cunthole.

Suddenly he was riding freely, as if he were on a stallion. He was no
longer propelling himself on her, but it was as if he had simply let go
of all control of his body and was being moved up and down through
space, an inner space, a black starry universe, by some other force than
his own. Smoothly, riding high and low and high and all the way, he came
gushing into his daughter’s cunt.

He stood up and smeared the come on his cock all over her belly, then
left her lying there to untie the rope around her neck with her own
hands. He didn’t even bother to put on his pants as he strode across the
yard and got into his car. He drove off for a night of honky-tonking,
leaving the mother staring out from the kitchen window, waiting for his
headlights to disappear, before she ran to her daughter lying in the
barn.

“My darling, sweetheart, what has he done to you?” sobbed the mother,
untying the rope from around her daughter’s neck.

It was minutes before Lena could talk, so long did it take her to get
her throat back into working, breathing, and talking order. The strap
had left a red mark around her neck.

The worn, older woman tried to carry her daughter to the house, but it
was no use. The younger woman was much stronger than the mother, and it
was Lena who ended up helping her hysterical mother across the yard.

Lena tried to soothe her mother in the house, after she had put on some
clothes.

“Calm down, mother, it’s all right. Maybe if he’s on top of me, he won’t
be hurting you so much anymore,” she said. She wondered if this was
true. She hadn’t heard her mother’s midnight screams in a few months,
and her parents certainly seemed to fight a lot less than before.

“What can we do? What can we do?” Mrs. Hanson was grasping at the wispy
bits of grey that fell on her face. She was speaking hysterically.

“Mother, go to bed. I’ll make you a cup of warm milk and maybe that will
help you to sleep,” Lena found she felt decisive and firm before her
mother’s helpless state.

“There now,” she said tucking her mother in.” We’ll figure it out in the
morning.” And she watched over her mother, and held her hand, until the
tired old, young woman fell asleep.

As soon as her deep breathing indicated a deep state of sleep, Lena laid
her mother’s hand down on the bed and went back out to the barn.

She saddled up Red Beauty, and led him out of the barn and through the
fence into the pasture. She mounted him easily with one movement, and
then took him galloping out behind the wheat fields.

The moon was high and full that night and it was deep spring. The creek
was full and high and she could see by the moonlight the shadows of the
minnows that were newly spawned darting about in the blue water.

Red Beauty whinnied and again they took off, galloping across the
countryside in the moonlight, the girl with her blonde hair streaming
out behind her, and the red stallion, his mane sweeping her face.

They came back to the gully where it winded further on and made a pool
of water. The stallion bent down his long neck for a drink and Lena
slipped off him.

While he was drinking Lena went under him and started stroking his balls
and the furry sheath that housed his penis. She placed her lips on the
furry hair and kissed the sheath, pressing hard with her lips. She felt
the mouth of the sheath open and the cock begin to protrude. She
slavered over the growing, emerging cock with her tongue until it was
fully-grown. It looked like a flame or a wet tongue, except that it was
about seventeen inches long.

“Mmmmmmmm,” she groaned. “Beauty, Red Beauty,” she whispered squeezing
the long hard wet dick with her hands, and the horse whinnied and went
up on his two front legs while she held on.

She laughed and slipped off her jeans. Her hands clinging to the
stirrups, and her legs wrapped around the stallion’s back legs, she
eased her sore pussy over the long cock. It touched bottom in her before
it was halfway in.

Again the horse whinnied and went up on his hind legs as the obsessed
girl rocked up and down over the slick horsecock. The long slick wet
thing soothed the cunt which had been violated only hours before.

The horse brought her to heights and depths of orgasmic pleasure such as
normal women do not dream of. She clung with her thighs to the horse’s
penis and slid it in and out of her, allowing her uninhibited groans of
pleasure to rise from the flat plain straight into the starry sky and up
to the full moon.

“Jesus Fucking H. Christ,” came a voice in the darkness.

Lena froze in her clasp on the underside of the horse. The horse too
sensed the stranger’s presence, for he froze and a frightened sound
escaped from between his flared nostrils.

“Why it’s Lena! Roland Hanson’s daughter!” and a long amazed whistle
followed.

Lena had fallen to the ground and she lay still now, abject and
humiliated.

The man, when he came over to look at her, was Brad King.

He stood over her, looking down, surprise in his eyes. He bent down and
helped her sit up, supporting her shoulders with his knees. He pulled
her jeans up over her crotch, trying not to look at the white semen,
horse semen, flowing all over her thighs.

“Jeesus Christ,” he said again. “On her Daddy’s stallion.” He shook his
head again. “Where’d you learn to do that, girl?” he asked. She clung
miserably to his arms. What would he do with her now? Tell her father?
She couldn’t even think of what her father might do to her if he knew.
Killing wouldn’t be enough, she knew.

“I mean I’ve heard tell of this sort of thing–I mean girls with
animals, horses and dogs and such, but I never really believed,” he
whistled again.

She turned to look up at him as she lay in his arms. “My father rapes me
once or twice a week,” she said looking firmly into his eyes. “And every
time he does it to me, I go out in the barn afterwards, when he’s left
the house to go whore-hunting in town, and I do it with his best horse.”

She looked unwaveringly at him to see how he would take it, take the
truth.

He was looking at her while she talked, but when she finished he looked
away.

“Oh lord, there’s all kind of critters in this world. All kinds, the
good lord preserve us. You know, I never did like your daddy. Cruel man,
unnecessarily cruel, I always thought. With his animals and with his
wife. And with his daughter now, too, I should have known.”

He lay down on the ground beside her now and held her in his arms as if
to protect or nurse her.

“Well, what are you doing way out here in the middle of the night,
anyway, yourself, Brad King,” Lena murmured in his ear.

“I was out riding myself, little honey,” he said kissing her hair. “You
done wandered onto my daddy’s land. I saw someone come riding across the
plain on what looked like Mr. Hanson’s stallion so I came out to
investigate. You didn’t even hear me ride up.” He licked the lobe of her
little ear.

“Only twelve years old,” he muttered to himself and shook his head.

“Brad, if my father finds out that you and me ever lay together like
this, Brad, he’ll kill me. He will. I’ve got to get away from you,” she
said, suddenly hysterically rising.

“Wow, now there little filly,” he said gently pulling her back down to
the fertile earth. “How’s he gonna know, that we met way out here?”

“I think he’d be angrier about finding out about me and you than about
me and Red Beauty. Red Beauty, at least he’s his horse.”

“Well now, who’s gonna tell him either story? Not me. You can trust me
baby,” he said moving his lips down her face until they met her lips.

He hugged her big soft boobs against his flat hard chest, and then
unbuttoned both their shirts so he could feel her big soft tits directly
against his hairless chest Her nipples felt like little raisins at the
end of big marshmellowy mounds and he stuck his face in one then the
other like a little baby at its mother’s breasts.

His dick was like a hard arrow in his pants, and he pressed his groin
against her soft stomach.

“I don’t know if I should,” she whimpered. She was confused now, and
didn’t know who was mounting her.

“You don’t know if you should?” he said, rubbing his hardened jeans
along her open yawning cunt which he had revealed by pulling off her
panties. He looked at the black gash in the big pink pussy. There was
still some creamy come floating in her pussyhair. It was from the horse.

He unleashed his cock from his jeans and pointed it toward the black
gash in the pink, the gash that led into the dark pussydepths.

Her legs parted willingly now, she pulled at her thighs with her hands
to open her cunt wider now for his entry.

When he plunged into her now, her clit was like a tuning fork that has
just been hit: it was vibrating and large and full of juice. His cock
was like a blade that slayed her. It passed right over and back across
and over again her throbbing clit and every time the head of his cock
pushed across her clit, slicking it as it passed, she sank into oblivion
and came, and came again.

He took his coming slowly. He kissed her lips, sucking them into his
mouth. Her lower lip was full and red and he took it between his own
thin lips as if it were a big cherry in a cocktail. Her upper lip too he
savored with his tongue and teeth. Then he darted his tongue way into
her mouth as his cock plunged into the black cave of her cunt. Quivering
it came up even harder than before.

It was going to take a lot of fucking to fuck the hardness out of his
dick that had yearned for this little girl’s pussyhood for so long.

She opened her eyes and looked at the landscape behind her. The moon
glared eerily on the landscape. Everything seemed drenched in the moon’s
silver, the fields, with their newly sown seed, the brown earth, the
newly-green trees that leaned over the creek and the singing water of
the creek itself.

“Oh look!” she cried.

Against the horizon two black horses reared up on their hind legs. It
was Red Beauty, her father’s stallion, mounting Brad’s filly.

Brad halted his movement on top of her for a moment to watch the
coupling of the animals. The stallion whinnied and neighed fiercely as
he boldly threw his front hooves on the filly’s buttocks.

The filly was fierce too, as she pretended to try to pull away, as if
she didn’t know what the stallion was doing or didn’t want him to do it.
She made the stallion knock her with his hooves and grasp her tighter.
They could see the male’s huge cock stand up and then sink into the mare
while both animals sang out a wild fierce chorus of animal lust.

Brad stroked her clitoris and she was filled with throbbing desire
again.

This time he spared no ounce of energy as he rode his cock into the
willing girl. She encircled his back with her long lovely legs, legs
like a filly’s, and she clung to him, raising her buttocks off the
ground to hang suspended from him as he bore his cock into her pussy
cunt.

His horn bore a hole into her which made her forget the her father’s
sledgehammer, and also the horse’s long strange cock.

Brad King fit right into her and she took one final breath and squeezed
him with all her pussy muscles and she hung on squeezing and squeezing
his cock in her pussy with all her might while he continued his fierce
plunging. Like this she brought him off. The last plunge was into a sea
of come that he left floating in the very bottom of her cunt …

Chapter 3

“In an isosceles triangle, there are two sides of equal length while the
third side is shorter. The hypotenuse …” Mr. Nolte droned on in math
class.

Lena shared a desk with Ellen and they passed notes under the tabletop.

“Have you ever seen a man’s thingie?” read the note from Ellen.

Lena suppressed a giggle and wrote back.

“You have? Whose?” was the reply.

“My cousin’s,” Lena wrote back after a moment’s thought.

“I have too. This weekend. I saw Jed Raleigh’s,” was Ellen’s exciting
news.

“How did you like it?” asked Lena.

Mr. Nolte was standing over them. “Give me the note,” he said.

“Oh, no, please, Mr. Nolte, we’ll stop passing them only …”

“Give me the note.”

They sullenly gave him the slip of paper they had been writing on. They
looked shamefacedly at the floor as he perused it silently before the
class and then folded it into his pocket, blushing. He said, “Now
everyone pay attention. No note passing.” And he went back to triangles.

Lena fixed her eyes on the blackboard filling up with figures, but
behind her eyes she was lost in thought. She wondered what were the
circumstances under which the skinny Ellen had seen Jed Raleigh’s cock.
She wondered what his cock was like. Jed was in the eighth grade, one
year above them. He was thirteen.

Then her mind wandered to a thought of what a cock feels like slipping
inside you. Under the schoolgirl’s table, a pair of schoolgirl thighs
became moist. She was wearing only a thin pair of white cotton panties
under her skirt and her own moist smell came up to her from under the
seat. She remembered Brad King’s gentle hands opening her cunt gently
prior to inserting his pleasantly-sized member into her and she recalled
how it went in and out gently, exciting her further as it moved. How
they had reached some kind of white pitch together, at the same time, as
the horses moved violently on the horizon.

Then a shudder went through her body as her mind could not help
recalling a very different kind of sex: the brutality and fear of her
father’s bondage in the barn. The class was interrupted at that point by
a knock at the door. Everyone’s failing attention was awakened and
turned to the door.

Through the window they saw a scruffy contorted face.

Mr. Nolte went to the door and stuck his head out into the hall. Then he
turned back into the room and called, “Lena Hanson.”

She heard her name being called as if through a mist and just barely
managed to revive herself from her dreams and say “Yes?”

“You are dismissed from class. Go into the hall. Your father has come
for you. You have to go home,” said Mr. Nolte.

Was he laughing at her? Having intercepted that note he must know, Lena
felt. She felt as if the whole class were laughing at her, as if they
all must know what this strange midday summons from her father meant.
What could she say or do? Refuse to go? Announce to the class: my father
has come to get me and take me somewhere where he can rape me? Who would
believe her? And she would never have the nerve to do it anyway. At
least not while her father was there watching and waiting for her. He
would surely kill her once he got her away, if he heard her say
something like that.

Miserably, she got up from her little desk. Ellen clung to her hand
under the table then let her go. Ellen’s kind eyes didn’t look her in
the face. Ellen surely knows, she thought. Ellen senses it, even if she
doesn’t know exactly. She knows something horrible is wrong.

She felt the eyes of the entire class on her back as she walked to the
door, and it was almost a relief to escape their curious eyes and
confront her father in the hall.

“Why have you come for me?”

“Don’t ask questions.” He took her by the hand and started down the
hall.

“And the hypotenuse of this isosceles triangle is …Ellen?” she heard
Mr. Nolte’s voice getting fainter.

It was very strange to be walking through the school halls with her
father. It was like having one foot in the grave she enjoyed some
freedom from fear, freedom from attack. They walked together down the
well-lit corridors. There were pictures done by the second graders
hanging on the walls in the main lobby.

Mr. Hanson nodded to the school principal, Mr. Rice, a big, bald,
paunchy man in a cowboy hat. Lena’s father sold his heifers to Mr. Rice,
who kept a small herd of livestock.

Outside in front of the school, her father stopped to talk to Jimmy
Nails, the local cop who played cards with her father on the weekends.

“Mighty nice day, Roland,” said Jimmy, rocking back on the heels of his
black leather boots. He was in his blue uniform, and had his cop car
pulled up to the curb.

“Yep,” said her father, holding her by the hand, but stopping to chew
some tobacco with his friend.

“That sure is a pretty little girl you’ve got there. How old are you
now, Lena?” the cop said patronizingly.

“Twelve,” said Lena sullenly.

“She’ll be thirteen in August,” said her father squeezing her hand
tightly.

“She sure is right pretty. Sure is. Pretty soon all the little boys in
her class will be wanting to take her to see the double features down to
the Rialto,” Jimmy the cop spoke about her as if she were absent.

“She’s too young for such things,” said her father spitting.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” said Jimmy leering and looking frankly
at her well-developed bust.

“Well, I do know and I’m her father so I guess I get some say so in what
she is allowed to do and what she is not. And seeing boys is not
allowed. Come along honey,” he said dragging her into his waiting
pick-up. “We got some chores we got to do today,” he added.

“Father knows best,” said Jimmy grinning and he put on his dark
sunglasses and climbed into his own car.

“Please follow us,” Lena was praying. “Please be suspicious and follow
us and see what he tries to do to me, and rescue me and put him in jail,
or me in jail or just something, anything, to keep him off of me!” were
Lena’s hysterical thoughts. But as they pulled out onto the highway that
led to the old abandoned shack by Neversink Creek, one glance in the
rear view mirror told her that Jimmy the cop had had no such thoughts as
following them on his mind.

Her panic grew as they rode silently in the car. She couldn’t even go to
the police for protection from her father. They would never believe her
either. Half of them were her father’s buddies, and they would only pat
her on the head for making up stories and return her directly to him.

He threw her skirts up around her waist so he could look at her thighs
as they drove. He put one big hand over her thighs and tweaked at the
flesh that lay under her panties. Her soft white thigh flesh seemed to
pull away from his coarse intruding hands, but he didn’t seem to notice.
He was breathing heavily as they turned onto the dirt road that led down
to the creek.

He offered no explanation as to why he hadn’t been able to wait for her
after school, as he had other times. Why he had to add the extra
humiliation of removing her from class before everybody’s watching eyes.
It was as if he wanted her to have to bear this extra alienation, of not
being able to explain why her father came to remove her from school. He
was making her feel different, and there was no one to whom she could
tell her story when he stopped the car and jumped out of the cab, she
remained inside. He had to come around to her side, open her door and
pull her out. She clung to the gearshift, and then to the door,
screaming, “Please, father, no!”

He slapped her face a few times until she was silenced, then unwrapped
her fingers from his car’s door and slung her over his back. He carried
her down to the water’s edge.

It was a beautiful day, one of the first days of summer. The water in
the creek was high and spangled with sunlight. The leaves were almost
full-grown on the trees that hung over the water, and they dappled the
water with their shadows. There were flies in the air, just spawned by
the earth overnight, it seemed, and Lena’s eyes caught sight of a
dragonfly, the first she had seen this year, glinting just above the
surface of the stream’s rippling water. Her father threw her down on the
grass-covered bank and fell on top of her.

“You’re making me think of you all the time, you little cunt,” be
whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Can’t even work, now. Have to ride the
tractor, do the planting, oversee the crew of boys who are helping me,
but I can’t, and it’s your fault.” He stuck his thick, tobacco-stained
tongue in her ear and explored all the crevices of her soft pink
seashell.

She felt the tongue like an unpleasant animal, a worm or a conch,
worming down into the canal of her ear and it stirred her unpleasantly.

“In the yard I watch you bending over to feed the chickens, in the barn
where I watch you squat on a stool to milk the cows. I get jealous when
I watch you stroke their flanks. The cows. I get jealous when I see you
touching the fucking cows.” Now he was exposing her breasts to the open
sun.

They were beautiful, firm, oblong-shaped, and white as fresh cream with
brown nipples like the nougat inside of a candy bar. He slobbered his
mouth all over these mounds of flesh, taking the nipples between his
teeth and pulling lightly on them, watching as he raised the whole tit
to a standing position by pulling on the nipple. He had the playfulness
of a child today as he laughed gleefully when he released the nipples
and the breasts fell back onto her chest like water balloons thrown
gently on the ground. They did not burst, they rolled around and resumed
their former shape. He cradled the boob weight in his hands and looked
off in the distance as if her were judging the weight of one of his
prize heifers.

He rolled her over on her hands and knees so he could look at her boobs
hanging down. They almost touched the earth. The nipples were distended
now, from his biting them and from hanging down, and he reached under
her to cup his hands around her young tits and sway them and nip at them
with his fatherly fingers.

“All the time. All the time,” he kept whispering hoarsely in her ears
like a gadfly, like a record, unrelated to what was happening which she
nevertheless could not turn off. “I keep thinking of you, seeing you,
seeing the shape of your tits in the mounds of earth the tractor drops
seeds into, seeing your hair flowing over your boobies when I turn on
the hose and wash down the sacks of feed. I can’t even look a cow in the
ass, I think of your sweet pink cuntflesh between those white thighs of
yours, and I want Ôem. I want Ôem so bad I can’t think, I can’t work,
can’t do nothing but come to school and get you to take you away where I
can put my hands all over you alone and touch you everywhere and make my
mind stop trying to remember you.

His hands were all over her now, up her dress, around her waist,
slipping under her panties, scratching through her pussy hair.

“Father!” she tried to stop him. They were right out in broad daylight
now, after all. Someone might come along. She hoped someone would. But
maybe now, in broad daylight, he might listen to reason, come to his
senses.

“Father, it’s against the Bible. Don’t you know this is a sin? You can’t
fornicate with your own daughter. You’ll make the sky go black some day
with your dreadful deeds. Father, go to the women in town, go to mother,
go to anyone else, but please leave me alone, I beg of you. If you can’t
bear to see me around the house without wanting me, I’ll go away. I’ll
go away somewhere so you won’t have to look at me, but please don’t.”

He didn’t even hear her last words, though he was laughing at her
protests. He had gotten his forefinger in her slit now and he was
rubbing back and forth feeling the wetness increase. He moved his
forefinger up to rub the swelling mound of flesh between her labia and
then he slid the finger back down to the hole and entered her youthful
love-cave.

Her clit too was swelling and throbbing despite herself, and she was all
wet now. The wall-to-wall quilting of her twelve-year-old cunt was slimy
with female love muck and he laughed as he withdrew his horny finger and
heard a sigh from her.

“I thought you didn’t like it,” he said, raising himself up off her for
a minute to unbuckle his pants.

“Uh,” she opened her eyes. For a moment she had imagined that it was
Brad King who had been tickling her excitement up the crevasse between
her legs. Why did women have to have this stupid hole right up the very
center of them, she thrashed bitterly as she knew the inescapable truth
that it was her father, his breath sour on her lips, who was pressing
his huge member over her face.

Why did he like it in her mouth? It was so incredibly disgusting this
way. To have to take your father’s big hard dick into your mouth. He
forced it in, pulling her lips and teeth apart the way he would to
examine a horse. His balls knocked against her chin. She spit and choked
but still he did not relent as he shoved his long pointed spear into her
soft throat. He loved to watch his cock disappear into the face of his
daughter. He loved making women eat it. He loved watching it disappear
into the hole in the middle of their faces, even more than he enjoyed
sinking it into their cuntholes.

This way he could be sure only he got the real pleasure. He closed his
eyes and sank it deep in her throat again, holding her by her luscious
boobies. Her hair flowed over the riverbank and into the water. He
dreamed of being able to tie her up down here so that whenever he felt
like sinking it in her, he could just come down here, open his pants,
spread her legs or force her to open her mouth, and sock it to her.

She gagged on the wicked cone thrusting down her throat as if it wanted
to be completely swallowed. The thrusting quickened which meant he was
near his coming. She shuddered and retched at the thought but there was
no way of escaping taking his semen down her throat. He held her firmly
pinned by her arms and by the way he sat on her upper chest. She felt
like a doll, limp, just a bunch of boobs, a mouth with a flowing dick in
it, and somewhere down there, a mass of cuntflesh which was not at
present being used.

He felt his tide rising in him, and jiggled her boobies in his hands
behind him, like melons they were, and jogged up and down faster on top
of her face, sinking his cock into her small compliant mouth–open like
as if it were a dickhole, made expressly for his dick. He kept bouncing
it into her and the tip of his cock felt the smooth firm slimy quilted
throat tissue, while the shaft of his cock felt the pulling of the walls
of her mouth as he yelled, “Suck me off! Suck me off you bitch!” and
gave her tits a hard tweak.

He sank it into her and then was riding on a floating ocean of come. The
excretion filled her throat while the penis continued to sink in her
throat, and she didn’t want to swallow but she couldn’t get up, and
lying down the ugly foul syrup began to slide down her throat while he
whipped his now soft penis against the walls of her mouth.

He left the soft dick slip out of her mouth while she sat there
grimacing and swallowing and spitting up. He laughed at her. She had
semen all over her lips, and some even on her nose. Her nose and chin
were all red and chaffed from where his groin had rubbed against her.

“My little come machine. All my very own. No one else is allowed to use
it. Only me,” he was joking with himself. He seemed to be very proud of
his personal property.

Lena was relieved that at least it was through for one day. Would she be
allowed to return to school now, she wondered. No, he wouldn’t do that.
He lay down on top of her, his back against her stomach, so that she
couldn’t get up, and he enjoyed the sunshine. He played with his dick in
the breeze, trying to stand it up and laughing when it fell over, waving
away the flies.

Beneath him, the back of her head was being ground into a rock, and his
weight bore down cruelly on her hipbones. She could feel the copper
studs of his jeans digging into the soft flesh of her belly. With his
boots he amused himself by pushing her legs farther and farther apart
and thought about his daughter’s cunt.

Her cunt was sweet, and so young and tender, it reminded him of the
yellow-green buds coming out on the trees now. Her cunt was like a sour
apple that you wanted to bite into just to taste the sourness exploding
on your tongue. It made you wince, the taste was so wry.

He sprang off of her, and then pulled her up off the ground. She was
facing him, staring at the big ugly thing that was achingly big again.
He needed to be satisfied again, he needed to be relieved of that wad of
desire and passion that was pushing out of his jeans and the only thing
could relieve that pushing passion was to find a hole sufficiently
enticing to him.

He tied her to the trunk of a willow tree whose branches almost came
down to the ground. He tied her like a heifer, with a rope around her
neck, but he fixed the rope to the tree only three feet off the ground,
forcing her to bend over. Lena was only five feet tall.

“Papa, no! No, Papa! Please! Please let me go! Please don’t. Please! I’m
scared! I’m frightened! You shouldn’t do this! God will hate you!
Please! NO! PLEASE!” she cried, tied to the tree stooping over.

He laughed. She sounded like a heifer braying at being separated from
its mother. He lifted her skirt and watched her shake and cry in her
panties for a while. Women’s underwear always fascinated him, and now he
was curious to watch her ass move in her child’s white cotton panties.
They came up to her waist, and they had a damp, darker spot at the
crotch where her female secretions gathered, which no washing could
entirely eradicate.

Stooping over, her breasts were hanging again, and it was almost with
tenderness that he made her remove her blouse. Her boobies hung down
like a cow’s waiting to be milked and he crawled underneath her to swat
at and suck and play with them while he put the toe of his
shit-encrusted boot at the crotch of her panties and forced the panties
into the entry of her cunt. The toe of his boot went part way in too,
and she sobbed and shook while he thus abused her, all of which made her
fine large boobies shake like jello. He had a weird thought: he wished
he were a woman so he could try to insert her boobies up his cunt, and
he thought if he were a woman that is want he’d want to do.

He slid out from under her and stood up behind her. He pulled her
panties down to he knees and pulled her dress over her head so he
wouldn’t be distracted by her boobies and her cries anymore. He would
just concentrate on her rear dark meat. And it was fine. He just watched
and surveyed it for awhile, allowing his excitement and desire to grow
unbearably.

In her fear and far-advanced state of hysteria, she couldn’t stand
still. Tied by the neck, all she could do was shake her ass like a cow,
and he watched, fascinated, by the movement of the body. The flesh
flowed into her waist, making shadows there, and then spread way out
again into a fine pair of female hips, smooth and curvaceous. The curve
continued on into a well-rounded ass, flowing up, out and over; and
sliding into the all-enticing black crack of her ass.

Her pussy hair peeped out between her thighs and he brought her hands
around and attached them to her moons and made her pull on them so that
the mound of cuntflesh too protruded. It was pink and gaping. The labia
looked like a little woman’s little mouth pursed in a kiss. Her slender
little fingers pulling on her fleshy behind pointed in the direction in
which he was to go.

“Pull more! Pull harder! Stretch open your little hiney, honey, so that
Daddy can put his cock right into your cunt. There, how does that feel?”
And he stuck the slick wet head of his cock right up against the mouth
of her open, offered, gaping pussy.

Her hands on her ass, her head tied close to the tree, she felt her
father’s organ enter her cunt, forced open against her will. She thought
for a split second of an hour ago, sitting just like the other kids in a
schoolroom, at a desk, passing notes and giggling, learning about
triangles.

Now the shaft of her father’s cock was slowly forcing its way up her
cunt, under a willow tree by the river, while she, the part of her that
was really Lena, the part of her that had a name and thoughts and
reason, was tied by the head to the tree. She felt split in two.

As if there were two things going on: Lena, the reasoning part of her,
was swooning in shame and humiliation and despair. Lena’s cunt lived on
top of her legs which slipped farther and farther apart to accommodate
the huge apparatus her father had hanging between his legs. His cock and
balls were larger than Brad King’s. She really had to open her legs wide
to get him in, and she had to pull apart her buttocks to allow him the
kind of entry he needed. It was better than simply having him shove it
up her and tear her apart along the way.

He loved to sink into cunt outside in nature. He loved to sink into cunt
so young and so taboo as his own daughter that even his friends, if they
knew, would be shocked and disapproving. And envious. He wished Jimmy
Nails could see him now, or that fat paunchy self-righteous school
principal, Mr. Rice. He imagined Lena’s math teacher, Mr. Nolte, bald at
thirty-five, saying, “Mr. Hanson, I really cannot let you take your
daughter out of class unless I know what you intend to do with her.”

And then his wide eyes stared as he saw her stoop over under the willow
tree and part her ass so her cunt would get open and wet, so that her
father could stuff his very willing and big cock into her, and into her,
and into her again.

He loved to withdraw it all the way and then jam it back all the way in,
feeling the whole delight of re-entry from the tip to the bottom of the
shaft again. He felt her clit go by–it felt like buttered bread,
sliced, and his cock felt like the knife that was buttering it. He felt
like a creature, half-man, half-beast, fucking his own twelve-year-old
daughter. He felt like an old dog, and it was like an old dog, hoary,
dirty, crusty with old come, lots of old come from lots of women, when
he took a deep breath and shot his wad straight up into her cunt. He
grabbed his shaft and his whole body rode his cock to glory.

He left her there that day, and many other days following. When he left
her, he tied her to the tree more securely with her legs wrapped around
it. He would come back at the end of the day to fuck her some more. He
just couldn’t get enough of her.

She missed the last day of school because he wouldn’t let her go in.

The hours she spent tied to the tree, her “hitching post” as her father
laughingly called it, were passed fantasizing about revenge. How could
she go on living like this? Her father thought of her merely as a cunt,
a receptacle for his male organ. Her mind, meanwhile, held cruel
thoughts of dismemberment. She thought how she would tie him down and
take the knife used for gelding the hogs.

But then she would hear the pick-up drive up, and she was torn between
shame and anxiety and hope that it would be someone else, wandered down
to this lonely bend in the river, and relief and disgust and shame, and
hopelessness, when she would hear his familiar grunting laugh as he
raised the curtain of willow branches to find his own personal, private
cunt, tied up and waiting to service him. It was always with a sigh of
relief that he unzipped his pants and let out the cockled creature that
was cramped in the confinement of denim.

Every night, after such days of humiliation, she went out to the barn.
Late at night when her parents were asleep, or her father was away
catting around.

Lena’s mother seemed to have forgotten what she had practically
witnessed that one night when her husband had simply dragged his
daughter out to the barn. Or Mrs. Hanson’s brain could not digest the
information. Perhaps she thought that she had just imagined it, or
perhaps her own personal freedom from her husband’s sexual attention,
after twenty years of fear, rose above her concern for her daughter’s
safety. In any case, Mrs. Hanson did not mention the incident to either
husband or daughter, and she did not ask where Lena spent her days.

Lena was quite obsessed with fucking Red Beauty now. And she also had
turned to Black Pride for additional fucking-revenge. The horses had a
strange partnership with her. Black Pride looked on with horse-like
curiosity, his black eyes glinting in the starlight of the barn, as the
young girl slipped off all her clothes to meet her animal lover in the
nude. She brushed Red Beauty all over with the currycomb to make him
beautiful and get him in the mood. The horse’s sweat from the day
flicked off onto her own skin and sometimes she licked the drops of
horse sweat off with her tongue, savoring the sour taste. She loved to
play with the stallion’s furry sheath which housed his cock.

It was like a little furry bunting on a most slick, and unshy animal.
When the horse’s penis started to protrude, called forth by her able
hands, it looked like a slick roll of candy, like the rolls of candy she
bought in the store sometimes, except that it was much thicker. It was
so slick, much slicker than a human dick, that it was hard to hold it in
her hands and she liked to stab in into her mouth, and to think of the
wonder that she held a creature, a non-human by the cock in her mouth,
and felt less disgust than she did at the same act forced upon her by
her father’s member.

Sliding Red Beauty’s cock up the hole between her thighs, completely
nude, she let her hair sweep in the straw below and she caressed her own
lovely breasts.

“I hate you, I hate you,” she whispered in the dark to her absent
father. “I hate you so much I prefer taking the dick of your best
horses, your horses, father, your stallions, your stallions stick their
cocks in me. I take their long wet horse dicks in my mouth and I enjoy
it more, I enjoy it! I enjoy it more than your fat, horrid, hairy,
smelly excuse for manliness could ever bring me.”

Red Beauty had been mounted by her so many times that he had evolved a
way of pulling his cock in and out of her so that he could actually come
too. The slick red penis, like a dog’s, couldn’t get entirely inside
her, but the dick was stabbed in and out, while she clung to his
underside, spreading her legs wide. The horse knew its own pleasure,
too, she knew. For when it came, in a rush of horsecome, it whinnied and
shook, and kicked up on its hind legs a bit, taking her for a ride and
attempting to shove it into her woman’s inadequate vagina a little
further, knowing the bizarre excitation of fulfilling the sexual urge
with a creature not of your own species.

Black Pride she treated a little differently. Red Beauty looked on
curiously, and with a little jealousy, she thought, the first time she
made sexual advances to the second stallion.

Black Pride was very well hung, with balls that protruded around the
sheath of his cock. Black Pride was a more high-strung creature, and
Lena was afraid he might not allow her intimate touch. She approached
his genitals very slowly, stroking him with the curry brush all over,
first, braiding his mane, calming and exciting him at the same time. She
spoke to him, in a low, fervent whisper, telling him the story of how
her father raped her daily, and that the fornication of beast and
daughter was a fitting revenge on a man whose soul was lower than a
dog’s The horse’s big white teeth grinned in his mouth and she knew he
was ready and willing and able for she saw the bright red glint of his
dick between his black balls. She slipped under his belly. Again, he was
so tall she could bend over underneath him, and she back onto his cock,
holding her cunt open with her hands, the way her father had taught her.

She thought of her father thrusting into her as she stood bending over,
tied to the tree like an animal. It gave her pleasure to open her cunt
now to an animal tied by the neck in a stall. Horse-cock slid into human
pussy with great ease, as Red Beauty watched from the next stall. Black
Pride’s cock was not quite as long as Red Beauty’s, but it was thicker
by far, and she knew greater pleasure, for he could almost put it all
the way in, and it really filled her up.

She thought of the slickness of the horses’ cocks and wondered why men’s
cocks weren’t like that. Human male cocks were all dry, and human males
were so dumb they didn’t know how to excite a cunt to make it wet first.
They just shoved their dicks in and thought women enjoyed it!

Lena was coming with wonder at how anything less than this slick wet
fuck, in the stable perfumed with fresh straw and horse and cow dung,
could excite her. Her father’s bumbling fumbles down by the river, could
not compare with the adeptness with which his stallions, which he rode
out over the plain every day, stood still for his daughter, as she
opened her cunt and spread her legs wide and stuck her stuff down over
the horse’s willing cock. She slid in and out, back and forth, up and
down, feeling the horse’s delicious wet dick part her cunt down the
middle like a stripe of pleasure all down her body. When the horse
creamed inside her, she creamed too, and when she put her panties on to
sneak back to the house, horse come from her cunt filled her panties
with cream as she walked.

Chapter 4

The day her period was a week overdue and she knew she wasn’t going to
get it was the day she boarded a bus for Iowa City and ran away from
home.

She had been a woman now for a few months and had tried to do some
reading on the subject of prevention of pregnancy and on the biological
procedure of impregnating a woman. Biology class was vague on the
subject, and the information she could glean from the pussyfooting texts
in the school library was not very informative.

But when her period showed absolutely no sign of showing up, it did not
take a doctor to fill her up with the certain knowledge that she was
pregnant.

She was frightened. What would her father do if he found out? Would he
abort her? Loose interest in her? And then of course was the question of
the child’s father. She did not let her mind touch that grim subject at
all, until she had stolen her mother’s cookie jar money, all of
thirty-two dollars, and walked down the dusty road into town. Her father
was out in the fields working that morning, and her mother simply didn’t
notice.

She knew the stationmaster would remember that Lena Hanson had bought a
ticket for Iowa City, and that sooner or later he would get around to
reporting it to her father, once her absence was discovered. So she
bought a ticket first for a small town near Iowa City, and then bought
another ticket on the bus for the city. She had never been to a city
before. In fact, she had never been on a bus before, never been out of
her own hometown.

Ret, her older brother, lived in Iowa City, and she thought vaguely
about trying to find him. But she wasn’t sure if he would help her,
listen to her story and believe her, or simply return her to her father.
She would work out that problem when she got there, she decided as she
allowed herself to sink into free slumber, when had she ever felt so
free in her life? she wondered in her dreams, as the bus rolled out onto
the highway parting the fields of young growing wheat.

It was with great pleasure that she opened her eyes once just as the bus
was passing her father’s own fields. She could see him, as she slumped
behind the tinted window of the bus, bending over, struggling with a
root that lay in the tractor’s path. She could see the bulge of his
sexual apparatus and she laughed snidely and her hands instinctively
went down protectively over her crotch until the bus had rolled on.

The man sitting in the seat beside her raised his eyebrows at the very
luscious young girl, fully developed, with lovely breasts and arms and
thighs, holding her crotch with her hands. He turned a page of his
newspaper and decided he would talk to her later on, for now, he saw,
she had fallen asleep in the same position.

She had horrible dreams: of being in a cramped, filthy apartment that
smelled of her mother’s boiled cabbage. She was lying down with the
lower half of her body naked and her knees raised as a hideous old woman
tried to extract a baby from her cunt. She was asking the old woman if
it were possible for a human girl, a woman to become impregnated by
another species, say, by a horse. The old woman didn’t answer. She just
kept pulling at something that was stuck in Lena’s cunt.

Lena kept asking and asking, but all she heard was the old woman’s
wheezing and cackling. Lena felt something hard, like a hoof, kick
against her stretching, straining thighs and she asked again, “Could a
woman couple with a horse and have a …”

“Could a couple live in a house?” the man beside her was repeating.

She wakened to find it nighttime. The bus was pulling into a city. She
knew it was a city because there was so much noise and motion all around
them, and for as far as she could see there were bright shifting lights.

“You were talking in your sleep,” the man said. “You were asking
something about if a couple could live in a house. My name’s Bill. Where
are you going?”

“Um, Iowa City,” she said. “To visit my relatives. Are we here,” she
turned to the window.

“Almost,” he said. He was a handsome, friendly looking man. He carried a
leather attach_ case and he spoke to her as if she were his age, which
made her feel very grown-up. She was grown-up, she thought ironically.
She was going to have a baby, or rather, an abortion.

“We’re still in the suburbs. But we’ll be in Iowa City soon. I’m getting
off there too. Will your relatives be meeting you at the bus stop
there?” he asked.

“N-no,” she said.

“Then perhaps I could accompany you for a while, until they come to pick
you up. I could help you get a cab, or find a phone.”

“Thanks. Maybe,” she said. She had to think fast now. She didn’t know
what her plans were going to be. She looked slyly at this man named Bill
now, wondering if he would help her if she confided in him. Maybe he
could tell her where she could go to get an abortion, and how much it
cost.

When they got into Iowa City proper, she allowed him to take her into
the bar across from the bus station. She had made a stop in the ladies
room and put on some make-up that a girlfriend had given her as a joke
for a birthday present last year. She had never before had occasion to
wear it.

When she came out of the bathroom, she walked over to where Bill waited
for her at the bar.

“Well,” he said when he saw her. “I bet they won’t even ask you for an
I.D. now.”

He was right. They served her a martini, which was what he was drinking,
without carding her.

“Just how old ARE you? For the record’s sake,” he asked her, whispering
in her ear. In her jean skirt and red blouse and nice sandals, all
filled out with her lovely buxom, womanly form, she looked quite adult.

“Eighteen,” she said.

“That’s old enough,” he replied judiciously ordering two more martinis.
He knew of course that she was lying.

After a few martinis they were quite good friends, and she didn’t even
flinch when he slid his hand right up her skirt to her thighs.

“You’re not new at this, are you?” he smiled. He had a cute wispy blond
mustache and he didn’t seem so old to her anymore.

“What do you do?” she asked him. “Why are you in Iowa City tonight?”

Bill said, “I’m a traveling salesman, honey. I sell soaps and perfumes,
and anything else a lady might like, door to door. Iowa City’s my home
base. I’ve come home for a little rest spell before hitting the road
again. Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight little honey? Looks like
your folks didn’t know you were going to be on this bus.”

“Look, I do need a place to stay,” she admitted.

It wasn’t until they had helped each other down the streets, to a crummy
side street near the train station, and up a flight of foul-smelling
stairs and into his furnished one room, that she confessed to him her
real need.

“I’m in trouble. You know, my boyfriend got me in trouble. And I’ve come
here to Iowa City to … get rid of it. Can you tell me where to go?
What to do?” she asked. She didn’t even sound or feel pathetic as she
asked for this stranger’s help and advice. She was sitting quite
comfortably, one leg over the arm of a moth-eaten chair, as he mixed
them some more martinis in an empty apple juice jar.

“Ah,” he said debonairly. “In trouble. Boy trouble. Well, I’m just glad
to know that I’m not the first, in your case, to be corrupting the …”
he eyed the space between her spread legs, “morals of a minor.”

“Can you help me?” she asked. She massaged her boobs under her blouse
and stretched coyly, looking at him from under lidded eyes.

He got up and wrote down a name and address on a piece of paper. “Take
the number one bus to Grove St., about twenty minutes from here. Say you
know a friend of Gina’s.”

“Thanks,” she said, tucking the slip of paper in her bra.

“Let’s go to bed,” he said.

They both climbed joyously into the big old springy double bed. It was
high off the ground and the springs were so old they sagged all over. It
was like trying to lie down in soft cheese, and they laughed and giggled
and pulled each other’s clothes off.

Bill exclaimed at the softness and hugeness of her tits. Even for an
eighteen-year-old, she was well developed. He couldn’t touch her boobs
enough with his face and tongue, rubbing his cheeks against them and
licking them all over. He wanted to rub his feet on her boobs and his
stomach and arms, and of course his cock which grew hard as he rolled
back and forth in the valley between her boobs.

They kissed, their tongues exploring each other’s mouths, while she let
her hands slip down and run all over his veined cock and tickle his
hairy balls. She liked to squeeze his balls in her hand, gently, and
feel the one ball roll into the other. She wondered if she could make
them switch sides.

Meanwhile, he seemed content to kiss her mouth with his tongue, sticking
it way in deep, running over her teeth.

She thought he would never turn his attention to her more pressing
parts; he avoided touching below her waist at all with his hands. She
wondered if something was wrong with him, and checked once quickly with
her eyes.

No, his penis looked all right, large and hard.

Suddenly, with the forthright understanding of a twelve-year-old, she
sat up in bed and took his head in her hands. “Haven’t you ever fucked a
girl before? Is this the first time?”

He blushed in shame.

“How old are you?” she asked.

“Twenty-two,” he said.

She put her tongue between her lips and shook her head in coy dismay.
Her boobs shook too in sympathy and he dove for them, sucking them,
pulling them around either side of his head.

She let him play that way a while longer, then she pushed his hands away
and said, “Are you ready?”

“Sit back there, no farther away. Way back, at the foot of the bed
there, and just watch, so you get accustomed to what you see. When you
want what you see, come and get it,” she whispered.

He positioned himself at the foot of the bed as she had commanded and
watched her. She propped the pillows up behind her so she could lie back
comfortably.

She pulled down her white panties and spread her legs with her knees
bent so he could take his first look at live female pussy. But she found
that staring at his youthful fuzzy mustache distracted her so she closed
her eyes.

She was thinking of the horse, Red Beauty, and his long slimy dick, when
she parted her pussy with her fingers and showed him her meat. She stuck
two fingers in, one on each side, and brought up for his viewing
pleasure some of the redder, wetter inner meat. She poked her fingers
way deep inside. They came up and out wet and shining and she made him
lean over and sniff her fingers and lick them.

She parted the labia to show him the sweet little canal of pussy flesh
that invited him down into the thicker meat of the love cave. She
diddled with the labia, swatting them with her fingers so they filled
with the excretion of desire and sat up bold and hard. The little nub of
flesh between the labia she tweaked with her fingers.

“Wait, let me,” he said. And he followed her directions like a willing
pupil. She had creamed and creamed again under his deft fingers when he
finally withdrew his sticky hands, and said, “I want it now.”

“Take it baby, it’s all yours,” she said. And she held her cunt parted
with her fingers for him as he brought his dry big cock to her opening.
At first touch his cock became wet with her cunt-wetness and the big
bulbous head of his cock started to slide right into her cuntmeat, like
a kid being pushed off a slide.

He sank into her, and his cock parted her warm meat like a knife sinking
into tender steak. He couldn’t believe that it was his cock, his own
aching, denied member, that could do so much so easily to this yielding
pussy beneath him.

She WANTED him to stick his fingers in her as he stuck his big
cock-finger in and out of her, she wanted him to smell the stale, fishy
odor of her cunt. He could smell it as he turned away from kissing her
mouth to stare down at the big animal–the red dick, that was taming her
and making her melt like chocolate left out in the sun.

It was so different to come into a girl’s pussy after a lifetime spent
coming in his own hand. Her pussy was so … soft and enclosed and
slippery. She gripped his dick with her pussymuscles tighter than he
could ever grip with his hand, and she didn’t let go. It felt like some
creature had attached itself to him and was sucking on him, and he let
her pussy suck and suck and suck him until he lost control and spurted
his thick white cream into the deep pussy-smelling cunt.

They both sighed with pleasure, and soon after began touching again. He
just could not get enough of her breasts, and he loved to watch her open
her cunt to him from all different angles. He couldn’t believe a woman
would get on her hands and knees and let him look straight at her open
cunt and her ass. It turned him on.

In the morning neither of them was very rested. Nevertheless, at noon,
he swatted her out of bed. He had to report to his office, and she had
to go take care of her business.

Gina was his sister, it turned out, and the abortion would cost one
hundred bucks. Lena almost cried when she heard this. Bill had told her
it might be expensive, but he hadn’t known what the current going price
was. The price was always changing depending on the current status of
the anti-abortion laws in the state. She cried in Bill’s arms that
night, and he stroked her hair and told her not to worry.

“But where am I going to get a hundred dollars?” she sobbed. “I don’t
have any money left.”

“You can get a job he told her,” trailing his fingers in her cunt. He
was quite bold now.

“A job doing what? I can’t do anything,” she said, writhing with
pleasure.

“They need a girl, to waitress, at the cafe down the street,” he
suggested, placing his mouth on her cunt and trying the pleasures of
eating out a young girl for the first time in his life. His tongue
slipped way down deep inside her and she cried out in pleasure. It was
like a little dick, except much more acrobatic than a dick, slipping and
sliding inside her now, like a seal. He stuck one or two fingers inside
her now too, while he continued the manipulations with his tongue. One
finger plied inside her cunt, making her clit stand up tall and salute,
while another lesser-privileged finger, stayed on duty at the fleshy
mound between her labia making her come in two ways at once.

She couldn’t let such sincerity go unnoticed. She promptly sat up,
turned around and licked his hard cock with her hard, flattened tongue.
She licked the cock starting at the bulbous head and straight down the
underside of it, holding the pleased creature between steady fingers.
After such rubbing had strengthened the hardness of the cock even more,
making it stand up even straighter, she placed her lips over the top of
the penis, so that the slick head of the dick slid in and out of her
mouth while her hands frenzied him up and down.

Her fingers pumped the white cream up the shaft while her soft firm lips
sucked the stuff out of him and slurped it up.

The next morning she went down the street to go to work. The train
station district was rough and dirty, and she only wore an apron for two
hours before she turned it back in and walked down the street stumbling
and crying She couldn’t make change fast enough for the rough customers,
and she dreaded their snide remarks and pinches on her behind. She was
not cut out to be a waitress and she’d made only a quarter in tips. At
that rate, she’d have the baby before she could get the abortion.

She waited for Bill in his room all that day. He came home with bad
news. He was leaving for Tulsa, Oklahoma the next morning. He assured
her that she could stay in his room in the meantime.

He took her out that night to cheer her up. He’d just gotten paid. He
took her to one club and then another that he knew. They ended the night
in a place one flight down where the drinks were cheap and the clientele
bawdy, drunk and bizarre.

Women were dressed up in plumes and sequins and tight gowns and they sat
all over the men and danced with them as if they were making love. The
men drank and roared and were loud with their lewd jokes. There was an
act coming on and everyone was waiting for it with great anticipation.

“From Mexico, Tequila,” Lena heard one man say to another. “Girl does it
with a donkey!!!”

“Really, man? Shit. Women are disgusting. Shit. That’s one thing I can’t
wait to see!!” replied his friend, a hairy man with a big stain down the
front of his white shirt.

“I wonder what she gets paid for doing it,” said Bill at her ear.

Lena wondered too and already a plan was forming in her head. She didn’t
say anything about it to Bill. But she waited with interest for the act
to begin too.

The act, when it finally happened, was very disappointing. At least Lena
thought so. The crowd didn’t seem to be well versed in the art of
fucking an animal, so they didn’t seem to notice how Consuela, the
Mexican senorita, faked it.

Maybe they noticed and didn’t care, pondered Lena, sipping her drink and
watching Bill’s face as it grew red with lasciviousness and he gripped
her thigh. Maybe the crowd felt they got what they paid for when they
got excited by the mere idea of a woman fucking a donkey.

For all Consuela did was come out in a kinky costume of leather, and
high-heeled leather boots. She wore a mantilla in her hair, and a veil,
and she did a striptease. Paring down slowly, in time to rhythmic music,
to a black bra that revealed more of her long sleek boobies than it
covered, and a g-string that split open her cunt and disappeared between
her buttocks behind, she was quite sexy-looking, Lena had to admit.

But Lena was more interested, professionally, in the donkey. It was
brought on and tethered to a post at the beginning of the act when
Consuela started to strip. She directed her striptease at the donkey,
but he didn’t seem to notice or care when she spread her legs in front
of his nose and played with her cunt for him.

Lena couldn’t even see that the donkey, a dirty, but not old thing, got
hard.

Then after much splitting of her cunt and her ass, and playing with her
tits for the audience’s sake, Consuela sat down on the donkey’s back,
her open cunt flat against his hide, and rode him around back and forth
on the stage while she squirmed and let on that even this felt good.

Finally, as the hoots and hisses of the crowd urged her on, she crawled
beneath the grey creature and locked her legs up around his back. Her
back lay on the floor and she pretended to touch the donkey’s genitals
with her hands. She smiled a big wet grin at the audience and said, “Oh,
he is so big. I want his donkey-dick in me.” And as the audience
whistled and yelled, she moved her hips up as if she were inserting a
dick in her, and then she moved back and forth. But all the action was
really hidden from view. It was just a simulation, Lena decided, though
Consuela brought the house down with applause. She went through the
tables after that, in her g-string and bra, collecting tips in a hat.

“How did you like that?” Bill asked afterwards, as they made their way
home supporting each other through the hot dry streets.

“It was okay,” said Lena nonchalantly.

“Think you’d ever like to do it with a donkey?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said.

He left the next morning for Tulsa saying she was welcome to stay until
he got back and he was sure she’d find some way to make money. She
kissed him goodbye and then went back to bed. That afternoon she managed
to let a shop clerk allow her to buy some clothes; a pair of sexy
panties, black with a slit at the crotch, and a bra with open holes for
the nipples to slip through, on credit.

She took these with her back to the Black Pussycat, the bar where the
donkey act was playing. She knocked on the basement door and was told
the Black Pussycat didn’t open until ten.

“I’m here to see Consuela,” she said, and finally she was admitted after
she told the voice she had some money for Consuela.

The Mexican girl, (Lena doubted whether she was really even Mexican),
was sitting in her dressing room eating dinner. She listened curiously
to the strange girl’s proposal to take over her act for a few nights.

“How much do you make a night?” Lena asked.

“I make about fifty bucks a night,” Consuela blew blue smoke out of her
reddened lips. She was dressed in a torn and dirty silk kimono and she
sat amid a dressing room full of clothes: feather boas, more dirty silk
kimonos, g-strings in all colors and the like.

“The bar gives me twenty-five and I make the rest in tips,” Consuela
said.

“I’ll give you the twenty-five bucks every night for a week, if you’ll
let me do the act and collect all the tips,” the confident Lena said.

“How do I know you can handle this act?” asked Consuela coolly. This
girl looked mighty young to her.

“Where’s your donkey? I’ll show you.” said Lena.

Consuela took Lena around to the back where there was a shed in the
yard. The donkey, whose name was Pepe, was in there munching on his
dinner.

With one adept movement, Lena dropped her panties and lifted her skirt.
Then she was down on the ground under Pepe. Her hands quickly, gently
stroked his furry sheath, so much smaller than the cock-holders of her
beloved stallions back home.

Before the donkey could realize that someone new was playing with him,
his sheath had released his tiny little cock, all slick and red like a
stallion’s, but so much smaller!

Lena laughed at the thought of how cushy this job would be, as she
relaxedly pulled her cunt up over the donkey’s cock and began going up
and down.

Consuela stared wide-eyed and finally said, “Okay! Okay! My god, you can
stop now! I believe you can do the act!”

Lena dropped back down to the ground and rolled out from under the
donkey. Pepe seemed to look at her with some malevolence in his red
donkey eyes, because she had excited him so far, more than he had been
excited in a long time, as Consuela did not allow him to mate with
females of his kind while they were on the road, and yet she had not
brought him to ejaculation.

Lena laughed and patted him on the head. “I’ll see you tonight Pepe.
You’ll get another chance.” She shook hands with Consuela on the deal,
and then Consuela took her to meet the proprietor of the house and
explain the change in the act for the next week to come.

That night, or rather the next morning, for the donkey act didn’t go on
until one in the morning, Lena was all set. She was a little nervous,
she had to admit, because she had never performed in front of people
before, not even in a school play.

But she reminded herself what the money was for: an abortion, and
freedom, a beginning of a new life of independence and freedom, far away
from the man who first poured a male’s smelly corruption into her body
and left her with no peace in life.

Lena began her act differently than Consuela. Lena came on in a filmy
black nightie that just barely came down to the top of the black briefs.
She wore high black heels and she pretended to be waiting for her
husband to come home. She pretended to be dusting her home with
Consuela’s big black feather duster, and she raised her black negligee
and dusted her big swaying boobs while the audience whistled and licked
its lips. Then she bent over and showed the crowd the split in her black
panties and she pretended to dust what lay between the split. She
indicated to the audience that she sure wished her husband would come
home because she wanted to … and she made gestures with the handle end
of the duster which left no doubt about what she wanted to do.

The crowd roared with laughter when the donkey walked on stage and Lena
pretended to express love and delight that her darling husband was home.
She caressed the donkey’s face and ears, murmuring “Pepe” in his scruffy
ears.

She removed the nightie and swung her breasts before the donkey. The
audience loved the way her dusky nipples hung out, exposed, at the end
of her long white tits, still partially encased in the lacy black
brassiere.

But the crowd was getting restless. They were urging her on.

She winked at them and sat down behind the donkey, with her knees
spread. The audience couldn’t see her head then, concealed behind the
animal, but they could see, quite clearly, one of her little white hands
as it massaged first the hairy sheath of the animal’s genitals, and then
the slickened red dick as it grew and grew out of the dull fur. The
audience clapped louder and louder as the donkey dick grew.

The audience could also see quite clearly what she was doing with her
other hand, which was sunk deep into her cunt. They could watch her
rooting in and playing with herself.

One man couldn’t restrain himself (the music too was very slow and
rhythmic) and he ran up to the edge of the stage and put his hand out to
her pussy. His arm didn’t reach though and someone pulled him down.

Now it was time to do her stuff. The donkey’s cock was fully erect.

She slid her body entirely underneath him and then, with the audience’s
eyes full on the erect red cock, she grasped the creature between her
legs and slowly inserted the wet dick up her thighs, into her cunthole
which she held open for it.

The audience was entirely silent as, as if with one pair of eyes, they
watched the slimy red donkey cock disappear into the cunt of the
long-titted woman.

She slid back and forth on it, allowing the red slimy erection to make
itself seen by the audience each time, before she slid back down on it,
and each time the audience cheered. With one hand she massaged the belly
of the animal, to calm him and make him stand still while she did the
fucking.

Now she was moving, sliding, up and down very fast. It didn’t feel like
much to her. It felt like Bill’s little finger. But the audience loved
it and so did Pepe because suddenly she felt a little squirt of hot
juice and the donkey had come inside her on the last plunge.

Immediately she jumped and parted her cunt to let the crowd see the
white donkey semen slipping out of her red cunt and across the slit of
her black panties.

They cheered. Consuela, watching from the wings, clapped.

Someone threw her a rag, and she wiped herself. Then she descended down
into the pit where the drinkers were, to talk with them, and let some of
the more well-dressed men stick a finger or two up her now clean cunt,
while she collected the greenbacks in an old top hat she had found in
Consuela’s dressing room.

Chapter 5

In a week, Lena had made over $300. Her act was a big hit. Even Consuela
was impressed. Sunday she went to the house of the woman named Gina to
have her pregnancy aborted. She was terrified.

She was too afraid to ask the woman if women could bear the fetus of an
animal. She felt awkward at the idea of having to explain about Red
Beauty and Black Pride. Other people wouldn’t understand. They would
think it weird, strange, and abnormal, for a young girl to have made
love with horses.

Gina was a buxom, middle-aged woman with a red wig. Not your typical
mid-wife. But she was efficient and businesslike, and in no time she had
Lena off the table with the good news that she was pregnant no longer.

“What was it?” Lena asked, fearfully.

“What?” called Gina from the next room. “You just lie there and rest for
a while. A couple of hours if you need to. Try not to talk.”

“But, I mean, the baby, what was it?”

“It wasn’t much, honey. I don’t want to upset you, but it wasn’t a
healthy normal fetus. It’s just as well it didn’t come into the world.”

“What do you mean?” called Lena trying to get up. An incredible pain
seared her thighs as she did so, and she immediately lay back down on
the bed.

“Just you rest. I’ll be back in a while with something for you to drink
that will help you heal,” Gina said, and she went away.

While she lay there, Lena had a lot to think about. What would she do
next, for example. Would she stay here in Iowa City? What would she do
when her money ran out again? Could she possibly go back home, and take
up that existence of swinging between being raped by her father and
making it with his horses?

She wondered if he would ever find out how she had gotten her revenge on
him, right under his nose. She thought for a moment too about Brad King.
She wondered if she’d ever see him again. Did he ever think about her?
She didn