Chapter 3
There was a light summer rain falling, its drops beating a rhythmic tattoo on the panes of Maggie's kitchen window. She sat for a moment, staring out as she sipped her coffee. The air was moist and muggy. Her entire body was drenched in perspiration. She wished that she could strip off all her clothes and run out into the rain. But she had something important to take care of. And it couldn't be put off any longer.
She had been trying to have a talk with Petey ever since Sheriff Tilden's "visit" three days ago. But her brother was hardly around lately. And when he was, she just couldn't find the words that had to be said. After all, he was her brother. And nine years her junior. How could she talk to him about sex? If only Jack were here.
If she didn't do something soon, though, he was liable to end up in jail. And then it would be the orphan's home for sure. She couldn't allow that to happen. She just had to work up her nerve. Steeling herself, she got up from the table and put her empty cup in the sink. Now was as good a time as any. He had slept long enough.
Turning, she headed for the stairs. Perhaps it would be easier if she said what had to be said while he was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Maybe it wouldn't be so embarrassing that way.
She was half-way to his room when she heard a car pull up in front of the house. A moment later, there was a loud and angry knocking. Almost grateful for the interruption, she ran to see who it was. When she threw the door open, she was startled to see Brady Tilden standing outside it. This time he had brought Luke and Sammy McLean, his two deputies.
"All right," Tilden said, sneering. His eyes were hidden behind wire-rimmed mirror sunglasses. "Where is he?" Shoving Maggie aside, he stepped into her living room. His deputies followed.
"Where is who?" Maggie asked timidly, closing the door and turning to face him.
"You know who," Tilden spat. "That dickey-dunkin' little brother of yours. We come to bring him in. And maybe you with him."
"Me?" Maggie echoed. "On what charge?" She was outraged. But frightened.
"Corruptin' the morals of a minor," the sheriff answered. "We've had reports that the little pervert's been dickey-dunkin' with the Bradshaw girl. Figure you're responsible since you're the one with care and custody. All right, boys. Better search this place for drugs and po'nography."
"Pornography? Drugs?" Maggie repeated, her voice a hushed whisper. "You won't find any of that here."
"We'll just see about that," Tilden answered. "I wouldn't be surprised if you use the stuff yourself. Let's have a look at them arms."
Maggie tried to back away, but Luke and Sammy stepped forward and grabbed her by the wrists. Tearing the cuffs of her ruffled yellow blouse, she pulled up the sleeves to expose her forearms. The sheriff scrutinized them without removing his sunglasses.
"Arms look clean, chief," Sammy McLean said after a moment. "Should we let her go?" Maggie was numb.
"Hell no," Tilden responded. "Some dope addicts shoot it in their legs, just so no one'll see the marks. Let's have a look."
"Now wait a minute," the young woman began. But the deputies ignored her protest. Sammy, the taller of the McLean brothers, moved around in back of her, twisting her arm behind her. Luke tore at the snap of her jeans. She tried to kick out at him but he only laughed, showing two rows of crooked yellow teeth. Within seconds, he had opened the denim pants and drawn them down to her ankles She struggled to keep her balance.
Her black panties were brief and lacy. She could feel Tilden's gaze burning through them to the pouting slash of her cunt. She wanted to turn away but she was shackled by her own jeans. Sammy McLean twisted a little harder, until the pain made her go limp. She leaned against him for support The deputy loosened his grip gradually until he was sure that she had quit struggling. Then he let go ant stepped away from her. She didn't move. Standing there with her pants around her ankles, she stared down at the carpeted floor. She felt utterly degraded, but was helpless to do anything about it The burly sheriff lifted one corner of his upper lip to suck noisily at a tooth. Then he ran his eyes lecherously over her shapely legs. Slowly, he walked around her, appraising her like some slab of meat on a hook. "Nope," he muttered. "She don't shoot it in the legs either." For an instant, a look of disappointment flashed across his features. But it faded at once to be replaced by an expression of inspiration. "Strip her," he commanded. "We'll have to check everything out."
Maggie gasped. How could they do this to her? She looked mutely at Sammy and Luke McLean imploring them with her eyes. But their raw and bony faces were impassive. Their chief had given them an order. There was nothing for them to do but obey it. Obedience was as close as either of them got to intelligence.
Without a word, Luke dropped to his knees and pulled her rumpled jeans off over her feet. She didn't offer any resistance as the deputy grabbed at the front of her blouse with both hands. With one powerful movement, he tore it open. She heard her buttons fall to the floor. Her lips were drawn tightly together as he worked the tattered garment off over her shoulders.
When she was clad in nothing more than her bra and panties, Luke looked dutifully up at his chief. A muscle in Sheriff Tilden's temple was twitching erratically. "Go on," Brady said impatiently. "Get the rest of it."
Maggie threw her hands up instinctively to shield her bosom, but Luke McLean swept them quickly aside. Her bra was a match for the panties-black, lacy, and even more brief. The soft white globes of her titties were almost totally exposed by its plunging front. Only the nipples were hidden.
Luke fumbled clumsily with the garment, his hands brushing roughly over her breasts. He couldn't seem to find the catch. Finally, he hooked a finger in the thin strip of elastic between its cups and pulled. Maggie felt the back-strap straining against her skin, cutting painfully into her shoulder blades. For a moment, she experienced a desire to reach back and unsnap it so that the brute wouldn't have to rip it. But she resolved to do nothing to help the bastards in their humiliation of her, even if she could do nothing to prevent it.
With a loud tearing sound, the pretty bra pulled away from her, exposing her tits. They sprang free, the rosy caps inscribing a pair of circles in the air before her. She heard Tilden draw his breath in through his teeth, and was unable to avoid looking up into his face. Something inside her thrilled to his masculine response. She was too much a woman to be unmoved by his obvious arousal.
When Luke slipped his thumbs into the waistband of her briefs, Maggie made no objection whatsoever. Her pussy was beginning to salivate. And although her moral mind rebelled at her own body's reaction, it felt good. She could feel her tits swelling with perversely submissive excitement. Her nipples were hard, like a pair of glistening rubies on a bed of satiny white.
She moved her feet together as the deputy stripped her panties off over her ankles, and then spread them slightly apart. "Well," she said softly. "Do you see any needle marks on me? Anywhere?"
"Don't know," Brady replied, taking off his white Stetson to wipe his forehead with the back of his arm. "I'll have to take a closer look." Stepping towards her, he reached out and touched one of her nipples with his finger. "Kinda like this, dontcha?" he asked impudently. Maggie didn't answer. "Well, dontcha?"
The naked woman felt her nipple throbbing with desire, and hated herself for the uncontrollably erotic reaction. It wasn't enough for them to torment her with their brutality. Now they were torturing her with her own potent sexuality. It just wasn't fair. A tear formed in the corner of her eye.
Her tits were flushing a deep shade of rosy pink, and there was simply nothing she could do to hide it. She was aroused. The sighs couldn't be disguised. She wanted to turn away and bury her face in her hands, but her pride made her look into his eyes. She fought to control the trembling of her lower lip and chin.
"I despise you, Brady Tilden," she sobbed defiantly. "Any when my husband gets home, he'll get you for this." She could no longer hold back the flood of emotion. She openly wept.
"Here's one for you," Tilden snapped, slapping her viciously across the face with his ham-like hand. "And here's one for your nigger so'jer boy-husband." He hit her again. Then, turning to his silent, staring sidekicks, he said, "hold her down on the floor. I've gotta check her more thoroughly."
Sammy was the first to reach for her, but when he touched her wrist, she stepped quickly away from his and lashed out at his face. Her nails left three bloody trails across his cheek. Angered, the deputy punched her hard in the center of her naked belly. With a grunting rush of air, she sank to the floor.
For a minute, she thought she would lose consciousness. She felt the softness of the carpet enveloping her, its thick pile irritating her nude buttocks and thighs. Everything started to go black. But then she was aware of hands on her, pulling her arms and legs out and pinning her to the floor. She opened her eyes to see Luke McLean stroking her breasts with his fingertips. And idiotic grin played over his features.
Brady Tilden's voice boomed. "Out of the way, boys," he commanded. "She's mine. All you get to do is watch."
Luke looked disappointed, but he obediently moved off to the side. He gripped her left wrist and ankle in his hands while, opposite him, Sammy did the same with her right. She was pinned helplessly to the rug. Naked, she looked up at the sneering sheriff.
From where she lay spread-eagled, he looked huge and menacing. She realized that she was completely at his mercy, and she loathed him for it. But something within her longed for him to be on with it. Her cunt was hot, its outer lips covered with a thick coating of fluid. Her tits were bobbing with excitement.
Brady pulled down his zipper and his cock came thrusting out of the front of his pants. It looked even bigger than it had the other day. She remembered the spicy flavor of it, the heft of its massive bulk on her tongue. And she knew that it wouldn't be her mouth' which felt its presence today.
"Open her up a little further," Tilden commanded. "That little slit doesn't hardly look big enough for the enforcer here." He gave his penis a playful shake, casting a flying drop of shimmering lubricant on her naked bosom. She felt it spatter on her ballooning tit, burning her like acid where it touched her yearning skin.
Luke and Sammy pulled back on her ankles, spreading her legs so far that her cunt hurt. She moaned softly, and closed her eyes. But there was no escaping the reality of the brutal situation. When she opened them again, Sheriff Tilden was on the floor, kneeing his way towards her divine feminine opening.
She willed the lips of her cunt to close and bar him entry. But they refused to respond to her conscious command. Instead, they puffed and blossomed like the petals of a rose, drawing back to reveal the beefy redness of her warm wet interior. She bit her lip in frustration, angry at the weakness of her sex.
Tilden's prick was closer to her now, hovering hungrily at the moist-lipped opening to her womb. Reaching forward, he put his hand on the hair-covered mound of her pubis, rubbing in a slow and lazy circle. His touch was amazingly gentle. She couldn't help but respond to it.
Her clit began to harden, its glistening red head poking out at him from between damp and fleshy folds. For a moment, he toyed with it, his fingertips rolling it like a solitary pea in a bowl of melted butter. She heard a sigh of sexual desire, and realized to her horror that it was coming from her own constricting throat.
The two deputies laughed. "Didn't take you long to get her going, Chief," Sammy said. Maggie wished for a hole to fall into and pull around her.
"Never does," Tilden answered. "Specially not with a hot-blooded bitch like this one. Why I'll bet when that nigger husband of hers is around, she gets it ten, twelve times a day. She must be burnin' for a dose of my cock." Thrusting his thumb into her cunt, he said, "ain't that right, Maggie honey?"
She closed her eyes and turned away. But the flow of her juices told the story. He spread the syrupy substance over the fat vaginal lips, depositing a pearl of it on the head of her vibrating clit. Each time he stroked her, she shuddered involuntarily.
"Nice and wet," he said as his fingers penetrated her again. "Why if this pussy could talk, it would say, 'Brady Tilden, please give me some cock.' " He shifted into falsetto as he mocked her. Then he burst into raucous and derisive laughter. His deputies joined in the fun, giggling and cackling wildly.
Maggie's mind was reeling with hatred and disgust. But her body's needs overpowered her conscience. She wished he was dead, yet at the same time she wanted him. She needed to feel the power and bulk of his fuckrod tearing into her cunny. She longed for the excitement of a full man-and-woman orgasm. When she felt the tip of his penis prizing at the pouting gash of her pussy, she sighed involuntarily. Luke and Sammy laughed again.
The sheriff moved his hips slowly from side to side, screwing his cock into her puffed and swollen opening. She felt a fraction of its tip sliding into her and braced herself for a tearing plundering drive. He moved slowly, however. And with patience. A millimeter at a time, his masculine organ worked its way onward. After each jabbing plunge, he stopped to wait for the elastic tissues of her snatch to adapt to his bulk. Then, as her cuntal membranes stretched to fit snugly around him, he drove forward again.
She couldn't stop gurgling and sighing submissively. And she was no longer straining at the hands which held her down. If Luke and Sammy had let go of her ankles, she would have locked them around Brady Tilden's waist. She was too hungry to turn down a cock meal.
She felt the rounded knob of his prickhead lodging tightly in the outer chamber of her vulva. Her labia closed tenderly around it, imprisoning the masculine organ in the heat of her honeyed sex. Rolling his hips, Tilden pivoted his cock on the prominence of her pubic bone. The thick and throbbing head rotated inside her snatch. Maggie groaned.
Brady's face hovered above hers now. His hands were on either side of her head, supporting the weight of his body. His deputies still held her down, pulling her limbs into the shape of an "X". But they were applying less force. It was apparent that she was going nowhere.
She felt the hairy bush of Tilden's pubic mound scouring at the soft whiteness of her groin. She could smell the sweat of his body as he penetrated her. Their genitals were fusing slowly, his erect manhood sinking deep into her receptive femininity. She was wrapped around him, a third of his cock buried in her pussy.
"I loathe you, you bastard," she gasped. But her body craved more of his prick. Her cunt was crawling with desire. Its pulsating walls massaged him brazenly. Her clit throbbed and trembled, hot blood pounding through its vessels. Even as she spoke, her buttocks were lifting up off the carpet to grind her clitoral mound against him. Her words of hate were punctuated by staccato gasps of excitement.
Up close, she could see his eyes through the mirror glasses. They were clear and blue, and seemed to be focused on something in the hazy infinite distance. As he plummeted deeper into her joy box, they lidded with lecherous longing. "Yeah," he grunted. "I really like that."
At least half of his prick was inside her now, its thickness forcing the lips of her cunt even further apart. A low uncontrollable whine issued from her throat. Her lustful emotions were on display, exposed to the three men who made sport of her. Trying to choke back her sobs, she chewed at her lip.
Tilden's patience was running out. He flung himself forward headlong, dropping all of his weight upon Maggie. His weapon sank to the hilt in the swampy gash of her pussy. She couldn't hold back the moan of delight which his plundering penetration wrenched from her lungs. But he was too lost in pleasure to pay it any attention.
Rhythmically, he rocked forward and back, sawing his prick deep into her. She could feel its throbbing thickness spread her inner cuntal walls. She clenched her teeth tightly in an effort to keep from crying out with sensuous desire. But the sounds which bubbled within her found expression anyway. As Brady drove into her, she began rising to meet his thrusts.
The hands which restrained her were little more than tokens now, symbols of her captivity. Her body was a willing participant in its own treacherous rape. His cock pulsed and beat inside of her. Her pussy returned each of its excited contractions. Her breasts pressed flat against her chest as her body melted with his.
His hips churned as he worked the swollen fuck tool in and out of her cunt. She could feel his heavy balls swinging forward on the in-stroke. The hair-covered sac which encased them slapped lightly at her upturned buttocks as her back arched to permit even deeper entry. She was a prisoner of her own desires now. All the will to resist had been fucked out of her.
Her nostrils flared and her breath came in short gasping pants. She rolled her hips in a circle, bringing the plundering head of his cock into contact with every nook and cranny of her twat. She felt it nudging at her cervix, sending a rollicking electric shock through her body. Oozing rivulets of vaginal juice trickled from the corners of her gash, wetting her inner thighs and the carpet beneath her ass.
She felt her anus contracting as his prick rammed her pussy again and again. The climax which was building was going to be a big one. It was the first time in months since anything but her own finger had been inside her cunt. The flood which had been building was about to be unleashed.
His cock swelled thicker and fatter, to pull the membranes of her cunt even tighter around it. Inarticulate groans spilled from his lips. His eyes were glassy and unseeing. She knew that he, too, was approaching an orgasmic pinnacle.
Cooing softly, she twisted one of her hands free of the fingers which loosely encircled it. Then, reaching between her body and that of the sweating sheriff, she searched for the dangling sac of his balls. It was wrinkled and heavy, and covered with a thick buttery moisture-the combination of his genital perspiration and her cuntal flow.
With passionate fingers, she stroked the masculine bag. The testicles inside it were like two bloated pouches of sauce. She squeezed them gently, rolling them about in her fingertips. Brady Tilden groaned in bestial satisfaction.
Then she realized that she had made the wrong move. Her touch was hastening his climax. He was going to cum any second. And he was going to cum without her. Desperately, she threw her body up at him. She had to catch up. She had to climb faster. It was her only chance. And she had earned it.
But it was too late?
With a victorious bellow of relief, the sheriffs cock exploded inside her. Jetting bursts of gism flew from its tip to mingle with her own freely flowing lubricants. The heat of it scalded her belly. His semen was thick and congealed. Each whirling plug struck her like another knee in the groin. He was using her a a receptacle. A spittoon for his prick. Her orgasm was as far away as the north star.
Her body growing suddenly cold, Maggie lay limp while he pumped his obscene load into her twat. When he was done, he rose slowly and refastened his pants. She could feel a river of male cum dripping from the gash between her legs. She had never hated him more.
Bending to pick up his Stetson from the floor where it had fallen, Brady quickly straightened his clothing. Then, wiping his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, he whistled through his teeth. That so'jer boy of hers is one lucky nigger,'' he said. With a gesture of his head, he ordered his deputies away from her and to their feet. They complied at once. He stopped to suck at a tooth and then looked down into Maggie's tear-streaked face. "Me and my deputies'll swear that all I did was examine you for needle marks," he said casually. "And since I didn't find any, I'm lettin' you go this time. But if I get one more complaint about your little pervert brother, I'm running the both of you in." He stopped to let his words sink in, and added, "is that clear?"
Maggie Henderson just stared at him her green eyes blurred by tears of bitterness and hatred. "You just better leave me alone, Brady Tilden," she muttered in despair. "I'm going to write my husband about this."
"You do that," Tilden said laughing derisively. Then, without another word, he turned and headed for the door. Luke McLean got there just in time to open it for him. When the sheriff stepped outside, his two deputies followed.
Maggie lay on the floor for a long time after they had gone. She felt dirty and despoiled. Her body was tense, all her nerves drawn taut. She felt as though she had climbed a mountain, only to be stopped a few steps short of its summit.
Her cunt was sore from the pounding which Tilden's cock had given it. There were juices dripping from inside her, and lingering heat which kept her pussy tingling uncomfortably. She had to wash-to bathe the foul residue of his orgasm from her groin, and to cool the steaming passion of her body. With effort, she dragged herself to her feet.
For a moment, she thought about picking up her scattered clothing. Then she shrugged and headed for the stairs. It would still be there when she finished her shower. As she plodded slowly up the steps, her mind whirled with rage and disappointment.