Chapter 4
Cathy could feel Tommy's hard cock pressing against the smoothly convex bare bowl of her stomach. He moved slightly lower in relation to her position upon the bed and took a full breast in his mouth, sucking at the nipple, then alternately licking its swelling bud. At the same time he forced a hand between the blonde girl's once again closed but unresisting thighs and began to frig her damp pussy, parting her mossy curls to reach the tight little sanctuary.
For two minutes the only sound in the bedroom was the soft slurping of Tommy's tongue and the markedly heavier breathing of Cathy. "T-Tommy!" she pleaded at last. "I'm going to-explode!"
He desisted momentarily to look up into her flushed face. "Got to get you good and wet so you'll stretch easier," he explained, then returned to his work.
"I don't-think I was-ever so wet-in my life!" Cathy got out between clenched teeth. "Tommy! I feel like I'm going to pee!"
"You won't," he assured her. "Relax, baby. That fat-and-happy little cunt of yours is about to be introduced to its piledriver. Relax."
He raised himself above her on the bed. Cathy's nipples, stimulated mightily by his mouth-manipulation, had elongated and stiffened while their color changed from rosy pink to flaming cerise. Tommy took a pillow and raised Cathy's hips while he placed it under her. When he parted her legs again the feathery-fleeced salmon-pink cunt gaped up at him.
He lowered himself upon her tensed body until his prick rested against her downy grotto. "Relax," he repeated. "Relax, Cathy, it's not going to be that bad."
"I'm-trying," she whispered. "Don't mind me, Tommy."
He wriggled himself more firmly aboard her belly, then reached down and took the leathery-feeling head of his purple-red robust rod and inserted it in Cathy's virginal cunt-opening, which he searched out by finger-touch. He pressed down upon her as the head of his stalwart cock gained entrance and eased inward slightly. Cathy drew a quick breath, then bit her lip.
Tommy joggled his hips, up-and-down and side-to-side. His rigorous fleshy organ pressed onward, easing inward fractionally. Cathy blew out held breath in a stifled gasp as she felt her tender pussy stretched unmercifully. "You're s-splitting me, Tommy!" she wailed. "Ohh, it h-hurts!"
"Hold on," he advised her when he felt the knobby end of his prick come to rest against the barrier of her hymen. He reached down and took hold of her soft, round buttocks and drew her up to him. "Here we go."
At the words he lunged into her with all he had in him. Cathy shrieked as he rebounded from the hymen, and he lunged again. She felt a searing pain amidst a tearing sensation inside her prick-stuffed vagina, and her voice soared. "Owwww! Tommy! Ohhhhhh, it s-stings! It STINGS!!" She pushed hard at his shoulders with both hands, trying to remove him from her body.
"Hold-still!" he panted, withholding movement. "You'll-be all right now."
The burning smart in Cathy's cunt subsided to an achy itch as he remained motionless upon her. He kneaded the supple globes of her bare behind gently, then released one to trace with a fingertip her perspiring buttock-rupture. He probed at her shrinking anus, which she sought to clench against his finger-intrusion. "Tommy! That's not nice!" she protested.
He responded by beginning a slow rising-and-falling upon her belly. "Ouch!" Cathy said, but in a more normal tone. Her pussy still hurt at his every movement, but not nearly as much as when he was getting it inside her. Then a thought struck her. "Is there-is there any more to go in?" she asked fearfully.
"You've-got all there is, baby," Tommy responded, tight-lipped with the effort to prolong his ride. He wanted her to come, although he was afraid she wouldn't this first time. He glided his rocklike erection in and out of the girl's widely stretched bower, which almost imperceptibly stretched farther to accept it.
The achy itch in her pussy subsided again to just an occasional twitch of pain. Cathy lay on her back with her eyes closed, almost as aware of Tommy's hands cuddling her nude behind as she was of his intractable rod skewering her poor cunny. Then a hot, glowing coal suddenly ignited in the depths of her being, and her Dresden-doll blue eyes flew open. "Tommy! Something's-happening!" she blurted.
-He didn't answer her, concentrating upon maintaining an even pace in his fucking of Cathy. He felt the round stomach beneath his own arch upward tentatively and the springy hips took on an independent life of their own despite his hands upon them. He was afraid she would lose the crest of the wave before riding it ashore.
But he needn't have worried. The glowing coal expanded in Cathy's interior to a fiery conflagration. Her breath hissed between her lips as the hands on Tommy's shoulders which had previously tried to push him away now clutched him tightly to her breasts, "I think-I'm dying!" she gasped as her interior walls began to twitch. Her cunt-lips of their own accord seemed to seize more firmly their fleshy intruder. "Ohh! Ohhh! Ohhhhh! I'm boiling-over!"
He felt her come, and he settled his shoulders to make his own run. He plowed Cathy's freshly-lubricated furrow with new intensity, and she fell silent, cradling him in her arms as she sensed the gathering storm. When she felt the tip of his prick begin to tremble inside her and the first hip-propelled jets of molten lava coating her stretched cavern-walls, she rubbed the back of his neck and murmured unintelligible but soothing sounds.
His hip-movement ceased and she felt the gradual slackening of the husky cock inside her. Still Tommy remained prone upon her until she was afraid he had fallen asleep. "My legs are beginning to ache," she whispered finally.
He laughed and raised himself. Cathy heard the diminished penis emerge from her pussy with a sucking sound. She stretched her legs gingerly as Tommy moved out from between them. She started to reach down to explore her ravished arbor but was ashamed to because he was watching. "No damage," he assured her solemnly, then grinned.
Cathy found herself smiling in return. "You must think I'm awful, always complaining. It really didn't hurt that much, but I kept expecting it to get worse. And at the finish- oooooh, that was really something!"
"It will be twice as good next time," he said confidently. "Want to clean up?"
She nodded, and he took her hand, helped her from the bed and led her into the bathroom. She stood submissively while he washed off her semen-and-blood stained pussy and thighs. He took her back into the bedroom then where she saw for the first time her own virgin-blood on the pillow upon which her bottom had reclined. Tommy began to kiss her again, first her mouth and then the relaxed nipples of her breasts. She pushed him away gently. "I really do have to go home now, Tommy," she said. "I'm going to have a hard time explaining to my mother why I'm this late."
"But we'll do it again?" he asked eagerly.
"If you liked me," she said demurely.
For answer he dropped to his knees, turned her around, and pressed fervent kisses all over the luscious amplitudes of her milk-white posterior. She had to pull herself away to pick up her panties from the floor and begin dressing.
When they were ready, Tommy performed one final action before they left the apartment. He stripped the bloodstained pillow case from the pillow, found a thumb tack in a bureau drawer, and tacked the pillow case to the wall above the head of the bed. "The guy who lets me use the place and I always hang up a flag when we score," Tommy explained.
Cathy disapproved, but she said nothing.
Men, she reflected as they went down the stairs to Tommy's car, were really strange creatures.
Wade Sampson looked up from the accident report he was writing at the sound of the opening of the outside basement entrance to the sheriff's department. He leaned back in his swivel chair as Tommy Johnson entered the office. "Well, nephew," Wade said sarcastically, "does it always take you a week to come around after I leave word I want to see you?"
"I figured if it was important you'd get back to me on it," Tommy said laconically.
"If I have to get back to you on anything, you'll remember it," Wade growled. "When I tell Alice I want to see you, you jump to it, y'hear?" Alice Johnson was Tommy's mother and Wade's older sister.
"What's so important, Wade?" Tommy tried to keep his voice neutral. He didn't want to provoke his uncle unnecessarily. Wade's temper was notorious.
"I hear you're drivin' the Riggins girl home from the library afternoons. That right?"
Tommy was silent for a moment. Did Wade know anything else? "Just a couple of times," he said cautiously. "Why?"
"That's too good for you," Wade informed him. "I've had my eye on that since it was in rompers."
"You? Why, you're old enough-" Tommy checked his remark.
But his uncle didn't seem angry. "Some day you'll realize that's when it's good - when you're twice as old as it," Wade said. He looked at his watch. "I don't have time to talk to you about it today, but I've got a little program for you in connection with that little blonde."
"Program? What-"
"Not today," Wade said, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet. "It'll keep. See you later."
Tommy went out the basement entrance to the side parking lot where he had left his car, wondering what Wade had on his mind. He didn't like the sound of it. Wade and Cathy?
It was ridiculous. The best thing he could do was stay out of Wade's path, especially since he was seeing Cathy again the next afternoon. And he was really looking forward to it. She was really a sweet kid, and now that her eggshell had been cracked she should really bloom. He was looking forward to that, too.
He drove away from the city parking lot with Cathy so much in the forefront of his mind that Wade had already been dismissed to a point far in the background.
Wade climbed the stairs to the first floor city offices and walked out front to his car parked at the curb. He considered it his car even though it was the Sheriff Department's black-and-white cruiser. He drove rapidly beyond the city limits where his real jurisdiction existed although he never hesitated to act independently inside the area which was the city police's territory. Any authority he needed to invoke he could always procure afterward. A lot of snooty kids who thought they could thumb their noses at him in safety had found out different.
He slowed the cruiser when he saw Jo Tucker's bright red head in a corner doorway. She walked out to the cruiser and climbed in. Wade hadn't seen her since the Tom Tucker episode, and he looked her over critically. "Either you were exaggeratin' to me or you do a damn fine job with makeup," he opened the conversation.
"It's makeup," Jo responded briefly. "Have you found a place?"
"Sure have. I knew it'd be easy." He had started up the cruiser again and was driving farther out into the country. "People are always leavin' keys with me to check their places while they're away on vacation or whatever. This place is really isolated." He looked at Jo in the seat beside him. "It's a cinch if you don't lose your nerve."
"Don't you worry about my losing my nerve!" she said fiercely. "I've been waiting for this."
"Okay," he said, satisfied.
Jo settled a large shopping bag at her feet. "You don't know how I've been waiting," she repeated.
"Okay," Wade Sampson said again.
They continued the ride in silence.
Lucille paused in the act of drawing on her gloves when the telephone rang in the bedroom. "Lucille Bryson here," she said crisply when she picked it up.
"I have a message for you from Elaine Rogers," a female voice said. "She's sorry to change the meeting place upon such short notice but she wonders if you could meet her at the Harris' place on Columbo Road."
"The Harris' place," Lucille repeated.
"It's about five miles out of town. It's owned by-"
"Oh, yes, Columbo Road. I believe I called there once during the last United Fund drive. Well, it's a little inconvenient, but fortunately I have the car. Tell Elaine I might be a few minutes late."
"She'll be expecting you," the voice said, and there was the abrupt click of the disconnect.
Lucille hung up and finished drawing on her gloves. That voice-wasn't it familiar? She thought about it while she descended the back stairs to the detached garage, but nothing in the way of recognition surfaced. It was odd, though, that Elaine hadn't called herself. Still, it would be a coup if Elaine had somehow enlisted Mrs. Harris in the church auxiliary's program. The Harris family was one of the wealthiest in the area.
Lucille drove to Columbo Road without difficulty. She slowed then as she tried to read the nameplates over the archways of the crushed-stone driveways leading to the imposing-looking residences. She had almost passed the Harris' place before she saw the name affixed to a wrought-iron fence.
She backed up and turned into the driveway which wound back through flowerbeds for a quarter of a mile. When she reached the house, there were no other cars visible, and she hesitated momentarily before climbing out of the car. It looked as though it would be Elaine who would be a little late. It would give Lucille a chance for a few words in private with Mrs. Harris, however.
She pressed the doorbell and listened to the six-note chime inside. Then she saw that the door was slightly ajar. "It's Lucille Bryson," she called before pushing the door open wider. There was no answer, and she walked inside. The first person she saw was Josephine Tucker, standing with a shopping bag in her hand in the center of the entrance foyer.
Lucille heard the sound of the door closing behind her, and she turned to look over her shoulder. A man in a khaki uniform had closed the door and was standing in front of it. Lucille returned her attention to Jo Tucker. "What's the meaning of this?" she demanded. "What are you doing here? Where is Mrs. Harris?"
"The ground rules of the meeting have been changed slightly, Lucille." Jo's voice was clear and firm.
Lucille Bryson was annoyed at the use of her Christian name no less than at the half-smile on Jo Tucker's face. "I should think you'd have the decency to remain away from places you're not wanted," she said coldly.
"It was my phone call that brought you out here, Lucille. Where it's nice and quiet and there's plenty of privacy." The mocking note in Jo's voice caused Lucille to steal a quick glance at the uniformed man whom she had ignored before. The man was standing with arms folded over his burly chest and he was grinning widely. An alarm bell tinkled faintly in the depths of Lucille's nervous system. Jo saw the change in her expression, and smiled. "Beginning to get the picture, Lucille?"
"I've had enough of your impertinence," Lucille snapped. "If Mrs. Harris isn't here, I have no business here, and neither have you." She turned and walked to the front door where she confronted the wide-shouldered, thick-necked man standing in front of it. "Kindly stand aside, please," she said imperiously with no trace of the flicker of alarm she had felt previously.
Instead of obeying, he reached out and took her by the arm. Almost in the same instant, Jo Tucker, whom Lucille hadn't heard approaching, seized her other arm. "What do you think you're doing?" Lucille raged, trying in vain to shake herself free.
"Very simple," Jo replied. "I decoyed you out here to-in the vernacular-whip your ass."
Despite her struggles they marched her from the foyer through the ground floor of the house to a bedroom in the rear. The double-grip on her arms was so painful that Lucille bit her lip. Could she have really heard Jo Tucker aright? Inside the bedroom the door was closed and the uniformed man stood in front of it again. In the smaller space Lucille felt trapped, and she experienced the first trace of the onset of panic. "I'll-I'll report this-this manhandling to the police," she stammered.
Her heartbeat was pounding at an accelerated rate. She recognized the grinning hulk standing in front of the door now. He was the deputy sheriff with the unsavory reputation- Samuels? Sanders? Something like that. And then fresh recognition burst upon Lucille. This was the man who was Jo Tucker's lover! And here she was cornered by the unholy pair. Lucille swallowed hard from a mouth suddenly gone dry with apprehension. This couldn't be happening to her!
The uniformed man spoke for the first time. "She's gettin' the picture now, all right," he said. "Go ahead an' show her, Jo."
Jo Tucker faced about, bent over, and flipped her skirt up on her back. She had worn no underwear, and Lucille Bryson found herself staring in amazed disbelief at plump bare buttocks gridironed with bluish-purple stripes turning orange-yellow at their edges. Jo straightened up and smoothed down her skirt. "That's what you let me in for, Lucille. How do you think you'll like it when your bare ass is turned up?" Her renewed smile was malevolent.
Lucille couldn't speak. Her voice seemed to have shriveled in direct proportion to the buildup of the hard knot of fear in the pit of her stomach. These-these villains actually intended to-to brutalize a Christian woman! It was simply unbelievable.
The uniformed man-Sampson, Wade Sampson; she remembered his name how - was speaking to Jo Tucker. "How you gonna do it, Jo?"
"You get her stripped and over the end of the bed. I'll take care of the rest." "What're you gonna use?" Jo opened the shopping bag which had never been far from her side and removed a lengthy item from it. Lucille's stomach lurched sickenly when she recognized a slightly trimmed-down version of a sorority paddle. It was about eighteen inches long, four inches wide, and had a hand-carved grip. Even from where she was standing, Lucille could read the two messages emblazoned in red on either end, burned into the hard wood: APPLY WHEN NECESSARY near the handle, and HEAT FOR THE SEAT near the business end.
"That little toy?" Wade Sampson said contemptuously to Jo.
"I'm prepared to show you it's no toy, Wade."
"But listen, I got a little number in the cruiser-"
"I'm aware of your affection for leather, dear heart," Jo said in an ironic tone of voice. "Well aware. But this is my party, correct?"
Wade Sampson shrugged beefy shoulders. "Suit yourself," he agreed. He advanced from the door toward Lucille. "Shuck it, girlie. All of it."
"N-no," Lucille said faintly.
The man's smallish, close-together eyes glared at her. "I can have you bareass naked in a minute an' thirty seconds," he rasped, "but then you'd have nothin' to wear home afterward. That the way you want it?"
A lump of panic in her throat had materialized in addition to the knot of fear in Lucille's stomach. She hadn't been frightened in many situations in her life, but she was definitely frightened now. "No!" she cried out as Wade Sampson reached for her impatiently.
"Then strip!" he glowered at her.
With no conscious volition Lucille found herself removing the jacket of her suit. Her fingers were icy as she unzipped her skirt, slipped it down, and stepped out of it. She paused with her blouse half unbuttoned. "Please!" she said, unhappily aware of the begging note in her voice but unable to restrain her plea. "I didn't know that Jo's husband would-"
"You were told!" Wade barked. "Peel it, sister."
Hopelessly Lucille removed her blouse. She had never felt so helpless in her life. Or so fearful. She pulled her slip off over her head, automatically shaking her hair back into place. Lucille Bryson, half-naked before two strangers! It was incredible.
"C'mon, c'mon!" Sampson rumbled. "Speed it up. There's plenty of help handy if you don't." He winked heavily at Jo Tucker, who had the paddle in both hands and was practicing level, waist-high swings. Lucille experienced a sudden terrifying loosening in her bladder. With shaking hands she unzipped her girdle and worked it downward from her well-shaped and solidly-fleshed hips. "Now that's a real piece of meat," Wade Sampson said with sudden respect in his voice. "Unveil it, girlie. Get rid of the pants."
Numbly Lucille pulled down her panties, plain white and utilitarian in type with no adornment. Even the comparatively warm room air felt chilly upon her bare flesh, and she half crouched in front of the staring duo, half dead with embarrassment as the man's cynical gaze fastened itself upon the profuse raven-black hair triangulating her upper thighs. "That's the fourth minister's wife I've seen with it out in the breeze," Wade said to Jo, "an' every one of 'em had more cunt-beard than a rabbi. You s'pose it's a requirement?"
Jo continued her practice swings with the paddle without replying. Wade turned to Lucille again. "Off with the bra, Mrs. Righteous," he said. "Then Jo's ready to teach you to dance."
"-Will you stop talking?" Jo complained. "Get her ready."
"Only take a second," Wade grunted. "I picked this bedroom because of the bed's openwork wood slats."
Lucille removed her bra, held it in her hand for an instant, then nervously dropped it on the floor. She felt ashamed of her heavy, swinging breasts with their dark-nippled crests, but with her entire body naked to the lustful gaze of this loathsome man she experienced a paradigm of shame almost paralyzing in its intensity.
Wade Sampson unfastened a pair of handcuffs from his belt and approached Lucille. "No!" she cried out, backing away. He paid no attention. He seized one wrist and then the other, forced them into the claw of a single cuff, and snapped it shut. He half led, half dragged Lucille over to the comparatively low footboard of the bed.
"Throw me the pillows," he said to Jo. When she complied, he arranged them on their long axis over the footboard, swiftly pushed Lucille down over them with his hand on the back of her neck until she was completely doubled up, whereupon he passed the dangling cuff of the handcuffs through the openwork slats at the end of the bed and snapped it around her left calf, leaving her immobilized over the bed-board, handcuffed wrist to calf.
Lucille was horrifiedly aware that her wide-spanned bare behind was now the highest part of her, and impotent tears squeezed from her tight-shut eyes as her face pressed into the bedcover. She had never felt so helpless!
"Will you look at that ass!" Wade said admiringly.
"What about that free leg?" Jo inquired.
"I like to see 'em kick," Wade answered. "Livens up the show when they're showin' their cunt, too. Let's see what you can do with that thing."
Jo positioned herself to one side and slightly to the rear of Lucille, who struggled for composure. There was nothing she could do to help herself now. She must retain what dignity she could. Afterward she would have these people arrested and jailed. But this was no moment for threats. Best to suffer it through with a minimum of outcry, which she was sure she could.
She wouldn't give these animals the satisfaction of hearing her plead again.
Jo Tucker stared avidly at the white-fleshed expanse of Lucille's nude rump. The heavy hemispheres were so solidly fruity with bulging flesh that the crevice between appeared as a thin-lipped sneer. Jo leveled the paddle at a point four inches behind Lucille's marble-white backside. "Now see how you like it," she said, and brought the paddle back levelly in a ninety-degree arc. She swept it forward again with surprising speed and it bit deeply into Lucille's bare seat with an explosive-sounding TH-WHAAACK!
Lucille's entire body leaped into the air as a strangled gasp escaped her. The handcuffs jerked her back into position for the next swing of the paddle. The bed creaked from Lucille's violent reaction to the stark white imprints of the paddle upon her agitated posterior-globes, imprints which rapidly turned pink and then scarlet.
"Ohh!" Lucille exclaimed as the paddle impacted for the third time. The pain was unbelievably more intense than she had expected. It flared like fire, then burned and burned and burned.
TH-WHAAACK!
"Oww!" Lucille cried out, conscious of the little-girl nature of her outcry but unable to suppress it. "Oh, please, don't-"
TH-WHAAACK!
"Ooooooh!" Lucille kicked backward with her free leg in involuntary physical response to her tormented bottom.
"Told you we'd see her cunt," Wade Sampson observed satisfiedly.
TH-WHAAACK!
"Oww! Oww! Oww! You're-killing me!" Lucille gasped, all thought of restraint gone with the excruciating flame in her tender fanny.
Jo aimed the paddle carefully, searching out white-skinned areas of the ample target as yet untouched by the paddle. Her face was a study in concentration as she snapped the smooth wood into the increasingly disquieted pinkening globes which danced uneasily between bottom-searing impacts.
TH-WAACK! TH-WHAACK!
"You're really gettin' to her," Wade said with interest.
Lucille shrieked openly at each paddle-stroke, dignity forgotten, everything forgotten except the scalding pain in her excoriated buttocks. She kicked wildly, struggling madly, but was totally unable to remove her pulsating seat from the course of Jo's full-armed swings.
TH-WHAAACK! "OWWWWwww! Oooooh! pi-!" TH-WHAACK! "OHHHHhhh! Oh, dear Lord, I'm-!" TH-WHAACK! "Aieeeeeeeeee!" TH-WHAACK! "Aggggrrrrrhhhhhhh!"
Jo paused just long enough between blistering swings of the paddle for the lightning-bolt of the impact to spread in red-hot waves through the entire sitting area. Then she swung the paddle again. Lucille's bottom-globes, largely pink-and-scarlet now, were turning crimson in some areas.
Wade Sampson watched closely as the minister's wife's big behind swayed, fluttered, twitched, writhed, and galloped in convulsed, cranberry-red abandon. Lucille's outcries had turned to quivering moans. Her unrestrained tears were soaking the bedcover. Her sobs were wrenching her stomach muscles painfully.
"About two more shots an' she's gonna piss herself," he announced a moment later. "See those muscles in her thighs flutterin'? I've seen it before." He hitched up his belt. "Jesus, now you're gettin' to me. I got the goddamnedest hard-on I've had in months."
Jo abruptly stopped the paddling. She reached out and ran her palm lightly over Lucille's vermillioned seat, whose silkiness now felt rough-pebbled from the paddling. "She's hot, all right," Jo said. "You can feel the heat even before you put your hand on her ass. I think about three more of the best will finish her off."
Lucille moaned hoarsely at each of the three but her fire-red-glowing backside vibrated only minimally after each crackling impact. She hurt so much over so wide an area now that the law of diminishing returns had set in. Jo stepped back after a final inspection of the meaty sacrifice and thrust the paddle back into the shopping bag. "There!" she exclaimed with satisfaction. "Now she knows how it feels."
Lucille sprawled limply over the bedboard, almost in a state of collapse. Her incarnadined twin globes, slightly swollen, swayed from side to side in slack-muscled, cleft-exposed abdication. Her long, quivering, sobbing breaths sounded loudly in the bedroom.
"Jo!" Wade Sampson said.
She turned at the note of tenseness in his voice. He had unzipped his uniform breeches, and in his hand he held his rigid, thick-jointed, purple-headed penis. "Put that back, Wade," she said.
"Bullshit! You had your fun, didn't you? An' you couldn't have done it without me, could you? Now I've gotta blow off some steam."
"We can go to a motel and-"
"Right now! I'm gonna fuck you right now, Jo!"
Her eyes widened. "In front of her?"
"In front of the Pope!" he exploded.
Jo shook her head. "I don't want to do it, Wade. It's not-"
"I'm not askin' you, gaddamit, I'm tellin' you!" It came out as though between gritted teeth. "Shag out've that dress an' put your ass on that bed!"
Jo Tucker hesitated a moment longer before resignedly pulling the dress that was her only article of clothing off over her head.