Chapter 3

Greta appeared to have been screwed by an army. Tony studied her. The girl's long black hair was a mass of knots and tangles, her blouse wrinkled, and the tight white shorts she wore-too tight to allow her to breathe, it seemed-were stained yellow at the crotch. Tony shifted in his seat; his cock, slightly raw from too much fucking, beginning to swell. Despite the "just got out of bed" appearance, or perhaps because of it, Skeet's thirteen-year-old sister was a luscious, seductive minx.

"Lose something?" Hands on hips, bare feet wide apart and shorts dipping snugly into her cuntlips, Greta stared defiantly back at him.

"What'd you lose on the way up here?" countered Tony.

"She ain't lost nothin' new," supplied Skeet. "A little face 'n' some ass. Nothin' she ain't give me almost before she could walk."

Tony watched the brother and sister exchange affectionate smiles. He couldn't blame Skeet. He supposed if he had a kid sister like Greta, who whipped it out of your pants and put it in if you were too slow, he'd be plowing the doll, too. But Skeet, he knew, had a special thing about screwing his relatives. Because aside from Greta, there were half a dozen cousins, an aunt or two and a niece he was plowing regularly. "She's asleep," announced Sammy, stepping into the room from the bedroom.

Tony scowled. "She was asleep before, too."

Sammy grinned. "She won't be goin' nowhere this time, boss. Take a look."

Skeet and Greta followed Tony to the open bedroom door. A small lamp beside the bed bathed Diane in diffused light. The girl lay on her back, the torn dress, haphazardly repaired, doing little to hide her lush charms. Her legs were spread. At the foot of the bed, a heavy rope, tied around her right ankle, secured her to the bedpost.

Diane stirred in her sleep. A bell tinkled. Tony's eyebrows shot up.

"That's in case she decides to play with the rope," explained Sammy. He moved to the foot of the bed, lifted the tether, and shook the small bell that had once been attached to a warning device above the entrance door to the cabin. "She won't be runnin' no more," he added, grinning and shaking the bell until Diane bolted upright.

Tony felt a twinge of compassion. There were tears in the blonde's hazel eyes. Trembling, she clutched the tattered dress to her breasts and stared at them as a child stares accusingly at an irate parent.

"Has she eaten?" asked Greta.

Sammy snapped his fingers. "How about that. Knew there was somethin' I forgot," he said sarcastically. "But she can wait 'til morning. She's one of the fat cats. Do 'er good to see what it feels like to go hungry."

"Feed 'er!" snapped Tony.

Sammy jumped. "Sure, boss. Sure. Only..."

Tony turned and left the bedroom before Sammy could finish. He was getting soft! he told himself. And that was dangerous. Not only wouldn't it do for Skeet and Sammy to see a sign of weakness, but once you got soft with a chick, he reasoned, once you showed her you cared and stopped being the boss, she became the master. And that had happened to him too many times before.

Diane was stiff all over. It was morning. She could tell by the warmth of the light coming through the cracks in the boarded-up window. She didn't want to open her eyes. Because once she did that, once she left the security of sleep, they'd be there-the three men and the girl- and the ripping and pawing, the violation of her body, would begin all over again. But she had to pee. She had to go so bad her pussy burned with the need. And if she didn't open her eyes, ask someone where the bathroom was, she'd wet the bed, she knew. Then they'd laugh and add a new shame to what she was feeling.

Abruptly she opened her eyes. She blinked. The room was deserted. Were they asleep? she wondered. Exhausted from having spent themselves on her body? Again she thought of escape. But then she felt the rope on her ankle, the thing she'd forgotten; moved and inadvertently rang the small bell. She cowered at the head of the bed as the door flew open, and the tall one, Skeet, glowered in at her. "I... I have to go to the bathroom," she managed in a small voice.

Silently Skeet moved into the room. He sat on the edge of the bed. Diane watched his gaze move hotly up her legs, to her crotch. Quickly she covered herself. Her cunthole began to throb like an abscessed tooth. "I have to go!" she insisted.

"Keep your panties on," said Skeet.

"I don't have any panties to keep on. Thanks to your friends." Immediately Diane regretted having voiced the retort. It seemed she said all the wrong things. Now the man's gaze was riveted to the dip where the torn mini lay between her creamy young thighs. She saw him grin, felt his calloused hand on her leg, and bleated, "No, don't!"

"A good hot pussy is one that has to pee," said Skeet, hand moving up the inside of her thigh.

Diane closed her legs tight. But the hand forced its way between. "C'mon. Please!" she offered. "I... I can't hold it much longer."

"It won't take long, baby." Skeet untied the rope tether, freeing her legs.

"Oh...!" Diane rolled onto her side... another mistake, she realized. The movement shifted the loosely basted dress, and now, Skeet's fingers seeking her cuntlips, her bottom was exposed to his view. She tried to twist back. But Skeet cupped her soft buttocks, fingers probing the hot crack, and two long thin darts began to pry open her holes.

Furious with herself for thinking she could reason with the brute and outraged anew by the degradation of being used at the whim of her captors, she began to fight. She clawed and kicked, used her elbows, knees, teeth, and butted with her head. When Skeet merely laughed, pinning her to the bedding with the weight of his body, proving how inadequate, how defenseless she was, she struggled even harder... ignoring the pain caused by the fingers digging brutally into the heated pockets between her bruised thighs. The pain spurred her on, made her wild. Until Skeet threw the dress off her shoulders, baring her breasts, and clamped his teeth down hard on one tender pink nipple.

Diane gasped... trying to wrestle his sweating face away from her body. But the teeth held fast. It felt as if her nipple was being chewed off. She stopped struggling, whimpered and submitted to his desires.

"That's better," growled Skeet. His hand coaxed her legs apart. He flattened his hand on her pussy and rubbed round and round. His middle finger found and began fucking itself in and out of her wet pink slit.

Now Diane gasped for another reason. Skeet had found her clitoris and was teasing, moving his fingertip back and forth over the hard little peg. She forgot about having to pee. She forgot the teethmarks and the trickle of blood at her nipple. She tried to pretend, but that, too, was gone. Now she wanted only to feel the stiffness of a big swipe up her cunthole... stoking in and out... faster and faster... throbbing and spitting hot cream... filling her with the delicious electric sensation of orgasm.

Skeet must have recognized her desire. He released her, stood, and, a knowing look on his face, began to strip. Diane watched. She couldn't help herself. Her gaze refused to be torn away from his crotch. Breathing as if her lungs were about to burst, unable to do more than lay there and stare hungrily-legs wide apart and cunt burning-she watched the pants and shorts fall, saw his hard dick spring away from a mass of curly black cockhair, and sobbed as if she were a bride, Skeet the groom, and this was their wedding night.

"Take off them fucking rags," said Skeet. Diane hesitated only a moment. Then, as if in a trance, she sat up on the bed, undid what was left of the minidress, threw it off, and fell nude onto the pillows. She looked from Skeet's long, bright red hard-on, to the little blonde triangle atop and between her young thighs. It felt swollen. And the entrance, too low for her to see, seemed to be sucking air. She had to restrain her hand, her fingers, from dipping into the gap. It was wrong! she told herself over and over. Perverse! So unlike her! But in the past twenty-four hours, since Tony and the others had entered her life and brought her to the cabin in the middle of nowhere, she'd experienced things, feelings, she couldn't explain. Her physical senses seemed to be an entity apart from her mind. And now, eyes glued to Skeet's bloated manhood, belly tight and thighs tensing in anticipation, her mind said no but her body refused to obey.

Kneeling beside her on the bed, stiff prick dancing within inches of her face, Skeet ran his hands leisurely over her soft skin. "You're like silk," he told her. "Hot silk."

Diane began to squirm; anxious to have him take her, to ram his manmeat up her pulsing pussy, but unwilling to say what she felt. She felt his hand on her belly. Her hips jerked up off the bedding. She gasped as the long middle finger returned to her cunthole.

"Play with my rod." Skeet inched closer, bringing the fat tip of his sex directly over her face.

"No." Diane whispered.

"Touch it," coaxed Skeet. "Feel how hard it is. All for you, baby. Show me how much you like it before we put it up here." He slipped another rough finger into her sopping wet slit. And another.

"Owwwwww!" Diane wiggled her hips against the wedge spreading the lips of her vulva. Her hand fluttered up off the sheet. His swipe was so big! Fatter around than Tony's and Sammy's together, it seemed. It would never fit in the tiny cave between her quivering thighs, she was certain. But she wanted it there. She didn't care if he tore her apart as long as she could feel another dick shooting before she died. Her need was desperate.

Skeet grabbed her slim wrists, guided her uncertain hand to his stiffness, and closed her small fingers tight around the powerful shaft. "Kiss it!" he grunted. "Gimme a blowjob. Put it in your mouth 'n' suck me off."

Diane recoiled. The heat of a moment before was gone. She had been speculating on the size of the filthy thing in relation to her pussy. But her mouth? Never! She could almost feel the awesome member filling her throat, choking her. "I won't do it!" she wailed. "You... you can't make me put that awful big thing in my mouth."

"Can't I?" Skeet laughed.

Before she could move or protest further, Skeet had withdrawn his fingers from her love hole, straddled her upper body, and Diane was staring at the throbbing glans of his cock. The acrid smell of sweat from his balls filled her nostrils. Horrified, she watched him steer the terrible thing to her lips. "Oh, no. No! No! No! No! NOOOOOOOO!"

Sitting heavily upon her chest, laughing, Skeet squeezed her neck. Diane opened her mouth. "That's it, baby. Pretend it's a lollipop," said Skeet. "You'll dig it real good once you get started. I had to persuade Greta some, too. Now she'd as soon go down on a joint as shake your hand."

Her head was reeling again. Greta! Who was Greta, she wondered. She remembered seeing a girl the night before. And she recalled Tony and Sammy discussing Skeet's sister. God! she thought. Did he actually do this horrible thing to his sister? And if the black-haired girl was his sister-the girl with a mouth no bigger than the mouth on a doll-was she actually capable of taking the entire length of his tool into her.

Skeet's persistent swipe made her gag. Where a moment before she'd been willing to give in, to have him take her in the normal way, she now was filled with loathing. The head of his rod was pushing in past her teeth, onto her tongue, and she couldn't close her mouth because the hand at her throat was making it almost impossible to breathe. She felt his big wrinkled sacs on her breasts, smelled the stink of his asshole, and knew she would pass out, perhaps never again to come to, if he tried to force the hot hard monster any further into her face.

"Just a little suck," groaned Skeet, inching his tense buttocks closer to her chin, "'til I'm ready to come. Then I'll give you a fucking, baby. I'll give you a screwin' like you ain't never had."

Diane remained unplacated. She squirmed, pressing her head back into the soft pillow until she lay almost flat. But the dick in her mouth continued to advance. Wide-eyed, terrified, she watched half the length disappear slowly into her face, felt it humping its way toward her gullet, unmindful of her struggles. "Don' may meee!" she gurgled. "Anything! P'ease! Anything but 'hisss!"

Skeet paused for a moment to look sharply about. His eyes narrowed. Dick throbbing in its sheath, he grabbed the pillow from the other side of the bed, doubled it, and shoved it under her head. Then he cupped her raised face in his hands, pulled back, and drove the last hard inches of thick prick into the wet warmth of her mouth. "Ahhhhhh!"

Diane gagged as the glans butted her tonsils. But now that he was firmly planted, now that there was no chance of her spitting him out, Skeet removed his hands from her flushed face, reached behind, and began to fingerfuck her pussy more rapidly than before.

"Oh! OHHHH!" Diane's hips began to gyrate. The unruly little pink guard at the inner gateway to her belly stood hard and tall. The electric sensations began to flood her body... making the thing slipping smoothly in and out of her mouth less dreadful. Then she stopped caring, threw her knees wide, opening her cunt for the fingers, clutching Skeet's balls, and sucked on the knob of his cock, as if... as if it were a lollipop! she decided. As if it were one of the sweet, all-day cherry suckers she'd loved as a little girl.

It lasted only a moment. "That's it!" breathed Skeet. "I'll... ahhh! Urn! I'll blow off in your face if we go any more."

Reluctantly, Diane allowed him to pull back. His swipe popped loudly from her face. She sobbed. "Do it," she heard herself say. "P-put it in me. Up m-my p-p-pussy."

Skeet needed no direction. Before the words were out of her mouth, he was positioned between her gaped open, lovely young thighs... long wet dick bobbing toward her pink cunt-hole. Slowly he let himself down. The tip of his rod butted her crotch... seeking... sniffing the enticing entrance.

"Hummmmmm!" Diane felt it: so close but missing the mark. Impulsively she reached down between their bodies, wrapped trembling fingers about the pulsing shaft, and guided the fiery glans to her vulva. "Fuck it up!" she breathed hotly into his face. "All the way in me!"

Skeet groaned. He seemed somehow different, thought Diane. She blinked. He wasn't much older than her, she suddenly realized. And now, the hardness gone from his features, mouth open, eyes glazed, he wasn't near as repulsive. She held his big prick, lifted her buttocks, and marveled at the way he trembled as the stiffness slipped into her pussy. She looked from his face, down their bodies, to her little blonde wedge. What an incredible thing it was! Not only did it possess the ultimate in pleasure for her, but hidden within the pink folds, in her round belly, was the power to change a gruff, tough character like Skeet into a trembling, willing tool.

Diane gasped and threw her hips high-taking the last of his swipe into her sheath. "Oh God! God! God!"

"You're good, baby," rasped Skeet. "Jesus! Your cunt's hotter than a fuckin' .38 slug."

Suddenly Diane glanced toward the boarded-up window. There now was new hope of escape- high up in her tight vagina where the head of Skeet's meat was embedded. It was dreadful of her, she knew. But perhaps she could fuck her way free. Perhaps she could use the hot hairy pockets between her quivering thighs to make Skeet, or Sammy, or Tony, one of them, take her back to Uncle John. She allowed her body to take over. She threw her legs high, onto Skeet's back, locked her ankles. She wrapped her arms about his broad shoulders. "Fuck me good," she whispered, humping with all her might up onto his rod. "Oh, do it. Do it!"

Skeet's hands gripped her buttocks. He began to rut... pulling back until his joint almost slipped from her cuntlips, then driving.

Escape! Diane thought, fucking her hips off the bedding. The trouble was... now, with a big stiff dick swabbing her pussy, raking her clit, causing the tingly sensations, she didn't care if she never got away. She didn't care about poor, sweet Uncle John, who had been a father to her since her own parents died. She didn't care about anything except the hot come inching up from Skeet's hairy sacs, and what it would do to her insides when he came.

"Fuck me," she sighed. "Oh, fuck me good!"

Nor did Skeet seem to mind being a tool.

Afterward, after they had come in unison and Skeet had allowed her to pee, they lay together in bed, side by side, basking in the warm afterglow of orgasm. Diane was content to lie there forever. Calm. Sated. But it wasn't to be. For as Skeet was pressing the fat knob of his prick into her tight cuntlips, ready to lift her to the bright lights once more, the door opened, and the black-haired girl, the one she'd seen the night before, stepped into the room.

"You lousy fuck!" Greta shrieked.

Suddenly Diane was snatched back from the world of calm. Mouth hanging open, she watched the tiny dark girl rush at them. She threw up her hands. Too late! A fist no bigger than a pink ball connected with the bony ridge beneath her left eye.

"Fucking whore!" screeched Greta, punching. "Stinking blonde bitch! Fucking motherless..."

Grabbing both the girl's slender wrists in one huge hand, Skeet dragged her down, across Diane's body and onto the bed between them. "Knock it off!" he barked.

Greta bit his shoulder. Her sharp little teeth sank in, held. "You're mine!" she hissed.

Skeet slapped his sister so hard Diane winced from the blow. Was this actually happening, she wondered. It was as if she'd been torn from reality the day before, and bounced down, deposited in some black pit. She felt her cheek swelling where Greta had punched her; felt her hot little cunthole dripping thick juice, and watched the two tussle until Skeet pinned the girl. She saw the fat tip of his swipe poke up the legband of Greta's white shorts, saw the girl go rigid and grit her teeth as the dickhead found her pussy.

"This what you want?" growled Skeet, tearing at her blouse, baring miniature, big-nippled tits, and greedily sucking one taut pink peak into his mouth.

"Mother!" choked Greta.

Skeet humped until half the length of his rod was buried in the tiny young girl. The shorts stopped him from going further, Diane could see. Her own cunt began to pulse. She lay close beside them, eyes wide, one hand gingerly testing the bruise caused by Greta.

A sudden change came over the black-haired girl. Where before she had struggled to hurt, she now thrashed as Diane had gyrated moments before. Moaning, making small, wild animal noises deep in her throat, she threw her legs wide... shifting the legband of the shorts and drawing her brother's stiff member all the way up her black pussy.

Mesmerized, suspended between fear and fascination, Diane watched them fuck. They seemed unaware of her. Until she tried to rise from the bed. Then Skeet's hand slapped down hard on her belly, making her yell. Rough fingers stole through the white-blonde curls crowning her sex, down, down to the wet slit between her full thighs. Then she too was fucking, gripping Skeet's thick wrist in both hands, and grinding her cunt onto the fingers as she watched and listened to the brother and sister make love.

Incest! thought Diane... remembering how Uncle John had always found some excuse to rub against her in the store, and, at home, how he always seemed to linger at her bedroom door after saying good night. Now she envisioned the hard thing in his pantsleg. Had she known what pleasure it held, she decided, perhaps she and Uncle John, at that very moment, would be off somewhere committing the cardinal sin.

But that was dopey! she told herself, feeling the wonderful thrill of orgasm approaching. Nothing so good could be sinful. She only regretted having waited this long to find out how delicious it was to have a man-any man, she supposed, but some more than others-stick a long dick up her pussy, her asshole, in her mouth.

"Ow! Owww, Skeeeeeeet!" cried Greta, coming.

Skeet tore the shorts trying to get his hand beneath and onto the bucking girl's small bottom. "Tighten up, Sis. You know how. Put that juice-hole in gear. That's it! That's... ah! Ahhh! That's fucking the way fucking should be. Go, baby. GO!"

Sobbing, unable to breathe, Diane fucked her little blonde triangle onto Skeet's fingers, and thought, if only she'd known! It only she could turn the clock back, to the day at the store, and, knowing what she now knew, have poor, sweet Uncle John, who was not even forty and built like a grizzly and handsome, rub his stiff swipe into the crack of her ass once more.