Chapter 10
Fortunately for Barbara, there was very little traffic that night, and she gained confidence handling her stepfather's car as the moments passed. She knew she had to think quickly, and she decided on going as far as she could, perhaps over the state line, leaving the car and hitchhiking westward. She'd always wanted to see the ocean, but the more distance she put between herself and Daddy Dan and the Sheriff, the safer she would be. She didn't even want to think about what would happen to her if they caught her, after stealing Mr. Jason's money and those pictures.
By dawn, she reached the state line, abandoned the Ford on the edge of a deserted cornfield, and began to walk down the macadamized highway that led into Alabama. Half an hour later, a truck came by and slowed for her, and an elderly farmer, carrying produce into Clayton, sympathetically agreed to take her along. She told him that her stepfather had spanked and "done awful things to me in bed after that, Mister."
After checking into a cheap little hotel on the outskirts of town, where she slept till late afternoon, Barbara went to a beauty shop she had seen near the hotel. She offered the motherly owner a large tip to take her without an appointment at such a late hour, had her hair dyed black and cut into a becoming pageboy. Then, after treating herself to a steak dinner, she boarded a Greyhound bus bound for Montgomery, where she spent the night in another flea bitten hotel, then again boarded a bus bound for Memphis.
Ten days later, a pretty black-haired girl got off the bus at Solano Beach near San Diego, carrying a cheap cardboard suitcase, and stood looking longingly at the ocean. She spent a week in San Diego, earning a little money as a part-time waitress in a hamburger joint, and an attractive young red-haired co-worker had mentioned that there were a lot of young people out at Solano Beach and there might be jobs there in some of the fishing and surfing equipment shops as well as the luncheon stands. The wind coming in from the ocean whipped her glossy black pageboy curls, hugged the yellow cotton dress lovingly against her firm round titties, shaping out the ripely exciting curves of her womanly young hips and thighs. She inhaled deeply, reveling in the salt air, the brilliant sun and the white beach beyond her.
About a mile down the road, she came upon a boarding house with a sign announcing a vacancy, rang the bell and paid forty dollars for a dingy little room with washbowl and toilet but no bath and breakfast and supper for a week. She was down to about a hundred dollars of the money she had taken from Mr. Jason's wallet and what she had been able to earn along the route to what she hoped would be her final haven in California. She napped until suppertime, ravenously ate the rather tasteless lamb stew and rice pudding which the fat gray-haired widow-owner of the boarding house provided, and then eagerly walked out along the gravel path and down a flight of stone steps to the huge beach that spread beyond her. The moon was full and the stars were twinkling and the air was gentle and soft and sweet for Barbara Warren-that was her new name now.
Her thong sandals sank into the sand and she had to walk with an effort, but she didn't mind. And she didn't see a group of four youths in bathing trunks, carrying surfboards, moving up slowly behind her along the edge of the beach. no
"Hey, Jerry, lookit that little bitch's wiggly ass-I'm gonna get me a piece of it! How about you guys?" a sandy haired, bearded young hippie turned to his three friends.
The one named Jerry was also bearded, with heavy sideburns. He was twenty and earned a few dollars doing garden work for some of the wealthier homeowners in the area. He nodded and grinned. "I'm with you, Benjy. What about you, Doug, Phil?"
The other two youths, seventeen and eighteen respectively, lanky and with long matted hair from their surfing, nodded assent. They quickened their steps, walking along the moist sand as the idle waves splashed up against their bare feet. They had quicker going than Barbara, who, lost in her fantasy of being back to nature and free at last, was trudging through the sand looking up at the cloudless sky and the dark glassy water stretching beyond.
It was Jerry who moved in front of her to intercept her, the three other youths circling. Barbara uttered a cry of fright, glancing around warily like a trapped animal. "Out sorta late for surfing, aren't you, honey?" Benjy grinned wolfishly as he put an arm around her waist and hugged her to him, his wet trunks staining her pretty cotton dress.
"You let me go, don't you dare!" she cried shrilly. But her protest seemed to galvanize all four into action. They flung her down on her back, Jerry and Benjy holding her wrists while Doug and Phil evaded her frantically kicking feet to rip off her dress and then the half-slip beneath. "Hot damn, get a load of the boobs and legs this little bitch has got," Phil panted as his eyes feasted on Barbara's panting round titties encased in a white nylon bra. His eyes lowered to stare greedily at the thick dark muff of cuntal hair at the very apex of her snug matching panties. She had no stockings, and the creamy white gleam of her writhing thighs and calves fascinated the four beach bums. Benjy reached out with his free hand to rip off her bra. "Keerist, they're for real! Baby, you're stacked just right for screwing, and we're jist the guys to give you what your hot little twat needs ta nite!" he boasted, squeezing one of her titties.
Thus encouraged, Doug and Phil together ripped her panties off, then grabbed her ankles, spread-eagling her while all four stared avidly at her. She was squirming and jerking, stretched out in the sand in only her thong sandals, with her tumbled black hair streaming down over one tearstained cheek as she tried to scream for help. Benjy swore viciously and clamped his palm over her mouth. "Who's gonna go first?" Jerry demanded.
"Aw, what the hell does it matter?" Phil snickered, reaching out to prod Barbara's twitching pink cuntal lips with a dirty forefinger. "She's built to take an army-jist look at that twat she's got.
We'll bang her as often as we can get it up, and I'll bet she'll be begging for more when we're all honked out. I'll go first, but don't worry, I'll make it a quickie!"
"Noooo! Help me-aaaahhhh-mmmmfff-gghhh!! " Barbara managed to twist her face away and managed a frenzied shriek before Benjy's palm again mashed her lips down into whimpering silence. "Try that again, cunt," he snarled, "and we'll gag you with cock while we're fucking you, get me?"
Doug had grabbed one of Barbara's ankles and was holding on with both hands, as the naked teenager tried frantically to kick at her crouching, would-be ravisher with her free sandaled foot. Phil laughed gloatingly, easily evading her last futile attempt at salvation, and flung himself on her. Barbara's body stiffened, then her hips swiveled and jerked as she felt the hot stab of his prick against the rims of her cuntal lips, her eyes bulging and glassy with loathing and despair.
"That'll be enough of that, you bastards! Let her go!" a voice barked behind them.
"Hey-who the hell's that-jeez, he's got a knife-let's get the hell out of here!" Benjy panted. The four youths sprang to their feet, Phil the last and most reluctant of all, his trunks partway down and his bony, swollen prick bobbing in the night air. "You too, you little bastard, I'll cut it off if you don't get going!" the voice barked again, and
Phil yanked his trunks up, swore unprintably and started loping down the beach to join his fellows.
"Did they hurt you, Miss?" The man approached the shrinking, naked, sobbing teenager, who Slowly sat up and clamped a hand over her thick cuntal bush. He wore glasses, had curly long dark-brown hair, and a Van Dyke beard, was dressed in dungarees, sneakers and a maroon pullover sweater. His eyes were blue and sympathetic behind the glasses as he pocketed the knife.
"No-thanks to you, Mister," Barbara tearfully exclaimed.
"Those bastards, I know who they are, but they won't be back. My name's Eddie Clayton. I live around here, I do some painting. Here, I'll get your clothes. Your dress seems to be all right and the slip too. I'll turn my back."
Barbara stumbled to her feet, retrieved the half-slip, donned it and then the yellow cotton dress. The bra and panties were torn beyond repair, and she uttered a sigh of relief as the nervous reaction to her near gang-rape came over her.
"You staying over at that boarding house, Ma Granger's place?"
"Uh huh."
"She's got a lot of drifters. I'm not trying to be fresh, but I think you'd be safer in my pad. It's just up the beach a ways and off there on that little hill. It's a sort of cottage. I rented it from a guy I know. He's in Hawaii surfing, and then he's going on to Australia for the meet. Come on. I know, you feel lousy. Put your arm around my shoulder and I'll help you walk."
"Th-thanks, Ed-Eddie. You're awfully kind. My-my name's Barbara W-Warren."
The little cottage was sparsely furnished but cheerful and tidy, Barbara noticed. Eddie Clayton made her stretch out on the couch and hurried to the kitchen to heat some coffee, after first giving her a glass of brandy to quiet her nerves.
As she sipped her coffee, she glanced thankfully over at him as he sat tailor-fashion on the floor. Beyond him she could see an easel and a canvas with a half-finished seascape. "Is that yours?" she nodded towards the easel.
"Guilty as charged, Barbara. I make a few bucks every so often selling a painting to some rich tourist or other. Mostly, I'm trying to put it together after two years in Nam. I majored in art at San Francisco State College, then came back here after Nam to rest up and take life easy. You don't look like a native, though."
Barbara bit her lips, set down her empty coffee cup, shook her head. "I'm not. But it's funny, I thought for a minute there it was gonna happen to me just like the way it did back where I came from."
"You don't have to tell me about it, Barbara, if you don't want to."
"But I do want to, Eddie." She leaned forward, and then she began to tell him all about Daddy Dan, Sheriff Ben Gorton and Wendy, the pictures for the Atlanta book dealer and then Mr. Jason. When she had finished, she burst into hysterical tears, a kind of purging of all that she had gone through in these last weeks of her hectic young life.
"That was hell, kid, worse than Nam. At least it was a clean death out there if you got it, but what they made you do was lousy, lying to you and practically peddling you into white slavery."
"It-it's over now, Eddie. I didn't mean to blubber like a baby. You're awful nice. I-have you got a girl?"
"No, not really," he shrugged and grinned. "You have to have loot to attract the broads around here, mostly. I've got some disability money from the Army and a little stake my dad left me, and maybe in a few months I'll go up to Frisco and see if I can work out a deal with a gallery owner for more painting."
"Eddie-"
"Yes, Barbara?"
"If-I mean-I know it sounds awful and I've only known you a little while but it feels like months and months because you're so nice-I mean-" Her face turned crimson and she lowered her eyes.
"What do you think I am, a creep like those four characters out there?" he said indignantly. "You're offering out of gratitude, but you don't owe me anything. You're a nice person, Barbara, and I didn't come on the scene for any reward like that. Just drop it, honey."
"I know-but it's all I have to say thank you with. And-and I like you lots, Eddie."
Now it was his turn to blush self-consciously and look away, for she was leaning forward, her eyes humid and wide, her firm young titties rising and falling quickly, and there was no bra under the dress and half-slip now to hide their thrusting resilient loveliness.
"Eddie, listen," she said huskily, "I mean, I know I'm coming on too strong and too soon, but that's the way they made me down there in Georgia. You know something? Even when they used to spank me and do all those awful things to me, I used to get awfully sexy. I figured-well, I had to do it when they spanked me till it hurt, then I knew I couldn't say no-it's funny-"
"I think I know what you mean, honey."
"Sure. Well, anyway, I was a bitch just now saying what I did. By rights, you ought to take me over your knee and give me a good sound spanking on the b-bare b-butt-I'd feel lots better if you did, Eddie. Please."
"Barbara! What the hell-"
"Maybe you're not a man," she suddenly taunted, her face saucy and flirtatious as she shrugged her lovely shoulders. "Maybe you don't even like girls, Eddie. How do I know?" and as she rose from the couch, she hoisted up her dress and half-slip to her waist, exposing her glossy creamy thighs and bottom and the thick dark fleece which framed her tempting young cunt.
Eddie rose to his feet with a strangled oath, his cheeks red, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Stop that, Barbara!" he ordered, his voice thick and wavering.
"Why don't you see if you can make me?" she teasingly jibed.
He stopped a moment to stare at her, then his jaw tightened. "Okay, since you asked me, you'll get it!" he snapped. Striding to the couch, he grabbed her left wrist and in the same movement as he sat down, hauled her over his lap. Barbara let out a frightened giggle as she looked back up at him. Eddie Clayton's face was grimly determined now, and his eyes were sparkling with desire as they fixed on her upturned creamy round bottom-cheeks, watching them tighten and undulate and squirm, as she pretended to shift herself away from him. Letting go of her wrist, he looped his left arm tightly round her waist, raised his hand and began to spank resoundingly. Barbara was taken by surprise at the vehemence of even that very first slap which flattened the succulent base of her right buttock. "Oww!" she peevishly complained, kicking her bare legs up and down, her face sulky and spiteful. "You don't have to try to beat me half to death, you know-oww! Ouch-cut it out, Eddie-I was only teasing-"
"Maybe you were, but you're gonna pay the price for doing it, honey." His hand continued to rise and fall relentlessly, and Barbara soon began to wriggle and squeal in earnest, tears streaking her flushed cheeks, as she tried to reach back with both hands to protect her furiously reddening naked behind.
And then once again, as if by magic, the same treacherous, churning, hot sensation began to tingle deep inside her cunt. Her buttocks weaved and arched and seemed to offer themselves to his rapidly descending spanking hand. Her groans and sobs now were almost inarticulate, and her fingers clawed the couch as her dainty sandaled feet flailed the air, sometimes lunging widely apart to let him see the intoxicatingly exquisite vista of her moistening pink cuntal lips.
"There," he panted, out of breath, laying a last furious spank over the crease of her furiously inflamed bare buttocks, "maybe that'll teach you not to try to act cheap with everybody you meet. We're not all like that Daddy Dan or Sheriff Ben of yours, you know!"
Then, suddenly contrite, he mumbled, "Oh Christ, Barbara honey, I was a bastard, look what I did to that sweet bottom of yours-I didn't mean to hurt you like that-"
But Barbara, giggling now and crying at the same me, had slipped off his lap and was down on her knees, yanking off the dress and half-slip. Naked, exquisitely sensual in her tearful well-spanked beauty, she reached for the zipper of his dungarees and yanked it down. "You just spanked me awful hard for being a bitch, Eddie honey," she whispered, "now please, can't I have the fun that goes with being one, since my poor heinie just earned it so good and hard?"
He reached out to cup her panting titties as her soft hands fondled his stiffening, sturdy, aching prick. "Wait, honey," she breathed, "I wanna prove I want you awful lots. You know, I told you about the things I had to do back down there-but they never did do me in my bottom-you know?"
He stared at her, transfixed, shuddering with lust. "So," she lowered her eyes as her face flamed furiously, "I'm still cherry back there, and I want . you to have it, just to show I saved something of myself for a real sweet loving guy. Please?"
With this, she crawled toward the edge of the couch and, pillowing her scarlet, tearstained face in her folded arms, bowed herself down, spreading her bare knees hugely apart and arching up the crimsoned globes of her twitching, still squirming bottom in loving, slave-like submission to her master.
Eddie Clayton ground his teeth in agonized longing, hesitated, and then succumbed to the delicious wanton yet candidly joyous gift which indeed, as Barbara had just said, was the only one she had yet to give a man...this time, a man of her own choice.
"Wait, wait a second, baby," he hoarsely stammered. He hurried into the bathroom, found a tube of vaseline, uncapped it and lubricated his forefinger, then his stiff bobbing prick. Then he went back to the kneeling, readied teenaged, who gasped and squirmed lasciviously as she saw him approach, the emblem of his rigid, rutting manhood thrusting savagely before him. He sank down on his knees behind her, his forefinger daubing the rest of the lubricant against the puckering pink lips of her virgin asshole. His other forefinger slipped round her straddled creamy thighs, tickling the moistened, palpitating cuntal lips and then moving upward to find the dainty bud of her sensitive clit.
"Oooooh, oh Eddie, oh do me good, oh please, brown me hard, I've been so naughty, but I love you, I do, I truly do!" she moaned in her fervent masochistic rapture. Though this time she knew it was she who had brought about his transformation from Good Samaritan to ruthless, firm, yet compassionate lover-master. There was no fear in this adventure, only a delicious, heady sweetness that intoxicated her and made her thighs flex and weaken as she knelt there waiting to experience for the first time this new sweet perverse pain that would be bliss.
His finger continued delicately to tickle her stiffening clit as he guided his prick against the shrinking rosette of her virgin bottom-hole. Barbara uttered a gasp and raised her wide-eyed, expectant face to the wall as she felt the glans of his heavy, hot hard prick gouge slowly inside and on past the protesting ring of sphincter muscles which guarded her maiden entry. Then she groaned as she felt herself deliriously distended, while his finger worked at her throbbing clit to bring that maddening hot longing even more fiercely seething along the walls of her churning cunt.
"Oh do it, it doesn't hurt, it really doesn't, oh darling, oh Eddie, brown me, fuck me there, put it all into me, give me to me, darling lover-oooohoh Eddie-aaaah-oh my Gawd, it's so good, it hurts so good-oh lover-aaaah!" Her voice soared with hysterical ecstasy as she writhed and jerked, feeling his belly at last grind against her hot throbbing bottom-cheeks. She sobbed ecstatically as he slowly drew back, then thrust home within her. The walls of her rectal sheath clutched his prick ferociously, but not to repel him. With all her wakened and deeply latent passion, Barbara weaved and twisted herself, frantically striving to give him pleasure as he was giving her. And when at last she felt his bubbling hot drench spatter her tender, tight, quaking channel, she was shaken by an ungovernable, feverish spasm, the truest and most complete cum she had ever known.
She was no longer an orphaned stepdaughter. She was now her own woman, ready to give, to be fulfilled, and to take pleasure with its magical blend of voluptuous humiliation and pain, so long as it was of her own sweet choosing . . .
That was a year ago, and Barbara and Eddie are preparing to move to San Francisco and eventually be married. It was Barbara who lovingly persuaded the young war veteran-artist to earn a nest egg for them both in case his paintings would not bring him the living he had hoped for. Remembering how her stepfather had profited by taking pictures of her, she induced Eddie to invest in a camera and developing equipment. Using the timer, she posed for spanking pictures in the most provocative ways, over his lap, kneeling on a chair while he bent to her and used hairbrush or strap. Under the name of "Babs Warren," the series of photos were in great demand by dealers in Los Angeles and San Francisco, and many of them found their ways into best-selling erotic magazines.
The spankings weren't hard, and often Eddie used ingenious paint marks to simulate the strokes of brush or strap or paddle or hand. But after every photographic session, invariably, his loving, naked, tearful ecstatic teenaged model crept into his arms and whispered, "Now give me a real good licking, Eddie, for being so naughty and sinful! And then fuck me good and hard because you know how hot a good sound licking always makes your little girl!"