Chapter 16
The four convicts clustered around Eleanor Martin as, freed from the cord that had bound her wrist to her daughter's, she tremblingly rose from the couch, head bowed, arms hanging at her sides, resigned to her fate.
"Who's gonna be first with this sweet piece of quim?" Mack Bolton loudly demanded.
"I got a idea," Pete Pullman spoke up with a leer, "Why'ncha ask the broad herself? Let her pick the guys the way she wants to take them on. That's what I call fair play."
"Not a bad idea, Pete," Ben Salters approved with a chuckle, "all right, Ellie girl, it's up to you. Look us all over, make up your mind that you're gonna get it from all of us, and then let us know how you want us to come visiting the bedroom where you're gonna spread your sweet legs for cock."
"G-give me a minute, for God's sake," the beautiful matron pleaded in a low voice as a fiery blush of shame spread over her lovely cheeks and forehead.
"Oh, sure," Ben Salters laughed. "Take your time, baby, we've got all night. We're not going anywhere except to bed, and neither are you. Line up, boys, and let her see how you're stacked for fucking."
With bawdy laughter, the four convicts faced the trembling matron in a single row, lewdly clasping their hands behind their backs and arching out their crotches ... it was visible at once that all four of them were furiously erect and readied for this delicious treat.
Dorothy Martin, head bowed, face turned away, was sobbing softly on the couch. Mack Bolton glanced over at her, his beady eyes glittering and narrowed.
Crissake, whether a guy liked it or not, he, Mack Bolton, was gonna get between this black-haired cunt's legs before very much longer, no matter if her mother was going to take them all on. He wasn't going to pass up a piece of twat like Dorothy, that was for damn sure. The young beauty glanced up and saw his leering gaze, and uttered a stifled groan, then turned her face to one side. Mack Bolton chuckled thickly. Boy, was it going to be fun getting this squirmy, itchy, nervous little piece of pussy to peel off her shorts and the pants under it and show him cunt, and he'd show her something, too, something she hadn't seen before and wouldn't again for a helluva long time.
"Come on," George Budrow nervously exclaimed, "You gotta take us all, so the sooner you get started, the sooner you'll be finished. Who's gonna fuck you first?"
Helplessly, trembling violently at the lewdness of those words and of the desperate predicament which she now faced, Eleanor Martin took a deep breath and, staring at Ben Salters, whispered, "I-I'll go with you first."
In her mother's mind, she had conceived a frantic proposal: she would agree to be the concubine for the gang so long as they remained here if only they would spare Dorothy. She would do anything they wanted, anything, it didn't matter. But she knew that Dorothy was a virgin, and the thought of her daughter being raped and used by these depraved beasts made her sick to her stomach. That was why she had picked Ben Salters, seeing that he was the leader. He was a little more considerate, and also a little more intelligent and cultivated in his speech than the other three. Maybe she could reason with him, once they were alone together.
"You see, you guys?" Ben Salters exultantly crowed, "this broad's got taste. Okay, Ellie baby, let's you and me get a little privacy. Then we'll come back and Ellie can pick the next guy, and so on. You guys keep these hostages of ours nice and safe while Ellie and I are billing and cooing." He chuckled at his own salacious joke and then, slipping an arm around her waist, whispered in her ear, "You won't be sorry you picked me first, you sweet bitch. I've had the hots for you since I first laid eyes on you. Let's go. There's a cot in one of the rooms, and it will do us good."
Eleanor Martin let herself be led along out of the living room down the hallway into the decrepit bedroom with its torn-up floor planks, cracked wall plaster, holes in the ceiling and filthy window panes covered by a gray, sun-faded pull-shade. She grimaced with distaste as she saw the dirty cot in a corner near the window, and she murmured to Ben Salters, "please-please close the door."
"Sure, honey. Anything to oblige a broad that's gonna spread for Ben Salters," he said genially as he went over to the door and slammed it shut as a kind of sign to his cronies.
She turned to him then, her fists clenched, her titties rising and falling with the turbulence of her emotion.
"Your-your name is B-ben S-Salters, isn't it?"
"That's right, Ellie." To her shame he began to remove his shirt, tossing it onto a straight-backed, dusty chair near the door, and then unbuckled the belt of the trousers to the suit he had stolen from the Ames household. She could see the unmistakable protuberance of his rutting prick prodding out the material of the trousers at the crotch and she bit her lips, pretending not to notice it as she went on in a low, faltering, husky voice: "Look, Mr. Salters, I-I think you're more intelligent than the others, and I think you-I think they look up to you as their leader."
"That's right. I'm the brains of the gang. So what, Ellie? C'mon, honey, start peeling down-get that dress off. I want to see what you're made of."
"I-I will-I promised I will-and I'll keep my word. But first, oh my God, Mr. Salters, say that you'll protect my little girl. I'm willing to let you do whatever you want to me-I-I'm a married woman and I know what it is to want a woman-but not my girl-please, God, not my little girl-I don't want her fife ruined. Please, Mr. Salters!"
"You're asking a lot. Besides, it's not easy for four guys to have just one bitch spreading her legs for them," he said crudely, purposely intending to shock her and to gloat over her helplessness. "I can't control the other three guys, they've got feelings, too. There they are out in the living room with your daughter, and they know I'm going to fuck you. They're looking at her and wishing they were inside her pussy right now."
"Oh, don't talk like that, for God's sake, please don't talk like that! Can't you-won't you please help me? I'll be good to you, I-I promise I will. I-I'll do what they want, too, but not Dorothy, please not Dorothy."
"We'll talk about it later. Right now, I want to see you bare-ass naked and ready for fucking," he directed. He had taken off his trousers and was in undershirt and shorts, shoes and socks. He stooped down, unlaced the shoes and took them off, then straightened, his penis brazenly thrusting tightly against the material of the cotton shorts. Eleanor Martin shuddered and then hopelessly stooped, caught up the hems of both skirt and slip and lofted them over her head and shoulders. Ben Salters sucked in his breath and his eyes blazed with lust. In her bra and pantie-girdle and flesh-colored nylon and thong sandals, Eleanor Martin was one of the most desirable pieces of cunt he had ever seen. His eyes fixed on the round, closely spaced, high-perched titties, whose brownish-coral aureola could vaguely be seen through the white nylon cling of the snug brassiere. The carnation-pink-and-white tinting of her lovely skin was a stimulant to his growing lust, as was the visible, thick triangular patch of pussyhair at the crotch of the panty girdle.
"Now the bra," he instructed thickly. Eleanor Martin reached behind her, unhooked the bandeau and stood naked to the waist, arms at her sides, bowing her head but not trying to cover the glories of her rapidly swelling bubbies. The crinkly-ripe tidbits of her nipples attracted him, and he moved toward her, a crooked grin on his flushed face, and cupped those lovely fruits of love gently in his hands. Eleanor Martin caught her breath and turned her face to one side.
"Is that the way you're gonna be nice, bitch? Put your arms around me and give me a nice hug and kiss before you start asking for favors, get me?"
"If-if I'm nice to you, real n-nice, will-will you promise you'll save Dorothy?" she chokingly whispered.
"I'll tell you this. I won't do anything unless you start showing some hot loving," was Ben Salter's answer. Eleanor Martin drew another long breath, then put her arms around his shoulders and pressed her ripe, soft, sweet mouth against his. Ben Salters gasped iri rut at the smell and the feel of her half-naked body against his, and he grabbed her bot-tomcheeks as he pressed hard against his rigid prick.
"See what I've got for you, Ellie?" he growled softly. "I'm gonna fuck you till you cream your wad, so help me. Now let's have that kiss and see how well you can French."
What he referred to, to be sure, was the act of fellatio, to which he intended to force this beautiful and aristocratic woman. Eleanor Martin, far from being naive, thought he meant kissing with the tongue, and so docilely, pressing her mouth to his, proffered her tongue to his lips. She felt his lean, sinewy fingers squeeze her bottomcheeks and she shuddered as she felt his hard, rutting manhood prod against the crotch of the pantie-girdle.
"That's not bad, but you've got a long ways to go, Ellie girl. Now peel off that goddamn girdle or whatever it is. You can leave your stockings on, if you want. Makes you look sexier. Then get on your back on that cot and start showing some zip. If you don't, by God, you can kiss Dorothy's cherry goodbye."
Eleanor Martin shuddered as she moved slowly to the dirty cot, sat down, feeling her thighs trembling beneath her, then unfastened the panty-gir-dle, unhooked the stocking tabs and then dragged it down and off her legs. Her thighs were twitching then as she clenched them tightly, ingenuously trying up to the last moment of sacrifice to conceal the thickly furred, curly thatch of her cunthole. With an oath, Ben Salters tugged off his undershirt and doffed his shorts, retaining only his socks. Then he sat down beside her, squeezing her titties with both hands, then crushed his mouth on hers and forced her onto her back on the cot, which creaked under their combined weight. An old Army blanket was left, and it was scratchy, and the feel of it against her bare bottom and back was irritating. She had closed her eyes, desperately resolving to submit, to do whatever was needed to save Dorothy. His left hand slid down her belly towards her crotch, and then she uttered a strangled "Please, oh, please" as she felt him insert two fingers inside her quivering snatch. Her legs convulsively clenched together as he growled, "Cut that out, bitch. Spread those legs as far as you can, or Dorothy gets it instead."
With another fearful gasp, the naked beauty relaxed the tension of her muscles and reluctantly opened her thighs, while with a satisfied chuckle, Ben Salters delved his fingers within the inner sanctum of her vaginal sheath. She squirmed enervatedly at the rasping, distending feel of his fingers inside her tender, secret love-cleft.
He knelt between her legs now, his stiff prick bobbing between his hairy thighs. He stared down , at her panting titties, at the shallow, wide oasis of her bellybutton and then his hands went to her panting titties again and fondled them as he slowly lowered himself until the tip of his prick just brushed against the forest of her light-brown pussy-curls. Beads of perspiration glistened along her high, arching forehead, and her eyelids fluttered as she strove to keep her eyes tightly shut to blot out the ignominious, salacious sight of her intended and unwanted consort.
"Aaaaaahhh!" She suddenly jerked, tilting back her head and opening her eyes in startled alarm as she suddenly felt his rigid cock press between the lips of her pussy and invade the citadel. His fingers tightened on her bubbies, and he suddenly murmured, "You're nice and tight for a bitch with two kids. How old are you, Ellie?"
"Thirty-thirty-eight ... ohh, please be-be gentle with me ... don't hurt me," she whispered vibrantly.
"Don't give me none of that crap, Ellie," Ben Salters exulted as he pushed home inside Eleanor Martin's quivering cunt. "You know damn well you've been dying for a poke like this. How long you been married, anyhow? How old is Dorothy?"
"N-nineteen. Oh, please, not so hard," the naked matron gasped as she twisted her face to one side, her features strained with the anguish and shame of her helpless surrender.
"Well, I'd say you must have been married about twenty years, then. Which makes you about eighteen when you first got it. Well, in twenty years your hubby must have worn himself out, and he must be stale stuff by now, eh, Ellie baby?" Ben Salters gloatingly dominated his helpless prey as now he clutched her naked, round, firm, velvety bottomcheeks and remained pressed, hairs to hairs, flattening down the panting globes of her satiny titties as, his cheek against hers, he muttered his salacious commentary into her ear.
"I'll bet you've been wanting to sneak away from home lots of times, baby, and get shagged like this. Well, now's your chance. You don't have to worry none, because your old man knows you're forced to come across, and he's tied up and can't help you, so you don't have to worry about cheating, you can just go ahead and enjoy it all you want. And there'll be plenty of seconds for a tight, hot, sweet piece of cunt like you, Ellie dear. Now let's fuck, huh?"
Feeling her quiver and squirm under him, for his fingers were hurting her as they gouged into her helpless backside, Ben Salters drew himself back to the very brink of her sheath, then lunged to the balls in a single mighty, eviscerating thrust. The woman beneath him moaned, her nails digging into her sweaty palms, as she strove to maintain her selfcontrol in this absymal, abandoned degradation.
"Christ, but you're tight and hot in that little box of yours. As if you hadn't been poked since you got married. You and I are going to have a real honeymoon tonight. When the other guys are through, I'm gonna come back and show you a few ways I'll bet your old man never tried." He drew back again and again lunged to the hilt, making her jerk convulsively and utter a sobbing, "ohh, don't, don't, not so h-hard, oh please, don't h-hurt me!"
"You Goddamn cute liar," he replied with a grin, "you know you love it. Now put your arms around me and hug me good, or I'll go have the boys work on Dorthy next. Now, that's much better."
In her desperation, Eleanor clutched him tight in her satiny arms, and now his mouth crushed hers brutally, his tongue thrusting insistently between her lips as once more he drew himself slowly back, feeling the aching agony of his pentup lust, then thrusting home with a savage, gouging penetration, that again rubbed the pubic hairs together. Once again Eleanor Martin groaned and squirmed. The scratchy blanket was an added exacerbation for her.
"Wrap those legs around me, too, baby," he instructed as his left hand cruelly squeezed the luscious, ripe rondures of her nether summit. Again with a gasp of pain, Eleanor Martin obeyed. Her flesh-colored nylon hose had begun to sag down from the glories of her quivering thighs, and she was lewd and libidinous in this scanty custome for
13.5 the cruel copulation to which she was being coerced.
"That's the way," he exulted. "Now let's shake and wriggle that ass of yours, Elbe. I'm going to flood you with a quart of oil and haul your carburetor over!" he boasted. He quickened his tempo of driving thrusts deep into her matrix, and the naked matron groaned and squirmed as the rasping vigor of his fucking-friction made itself insistent within her tender depths. Her eyes remained closed, but her nostrils were flaring and shrinking and her lips were trembling pitiably. Suddenly he slowed his attack and tantalizingly drew back until the tip of his cock brushed the inner lips of her cunt. Eleanor Martin uttered a moaning sob: "Ouuuuuuu!" Her eyes opened to stare into the contorted, twisted, grinning face of her ravisher.
"Starting to feel the hots, baby? Just let yourself go and old Ben will cream you down good," he whispered harshly. Then suddenly he thrust himself home to the balls and Eleanor Martin's body twisted and waved under the urgency of her own secret womanhood. His powerful virlity had begun to conquer her, though she had sworn she would try to remain impervious to the abhorrent rut of her captors.
"You ever had any guys on the side since you got married, Elbe?" he murmured slyly, studying her flushed, contorted face. Tears were glistening on hr curly lashes and had begun to rivulet down her flushed cheeks.
"N-no ... oh, please, get it over with ... I beg you-"
"And you were the one that was going to be real nice to me if I let Dorothy off a cherry-busting, huh?" he growled. "Just for that, she's going to lose it."
"Oh, no please-I didn't mean it-I'll be very nice-please don't hurt her-just tell me what you want-ohhh, please don't do that-ahhh, you're hurting me, please, Mr. Salters, please take your finger away-oooooh!"
Ben Salters had slyly inserted his right forefinger into the narrow, ambery passageway between her succulent round bottom-globes and found the crinkly cleft of her virgin asshole. It was true: in all the years of her marriage, Eleanor Martin retained that maidenhead as well as that of her mouth, for she had never sucked Ranee off!
"So you're sort of goosey, Ellie baby? It seems to be waking you up. I'm going to give you a good goose-fucking, then, and really make you cream," he bragged. "No, keep your legs and arms around me if you know what's good for you ... there, do you feel my finger up to the hilt inside your sweet bumhole ... it's tighter than your cunt, if you want to know ... I'll bet it's the first time you ever had yourself brownholed, huh, Ellie baby?"
"Ohhh, oh please, it's so shameful, don't do that-ahhhh, you're hurting me-please don't do that-ohhh!!" For even as she squirmed and tried to arch herself off and disengage the maddeningly probing finger that was probing the tightly clenching walls of her rectum, her ravisher had resumed his coupling with her. Now, with deep, fiercer and more rapid thrusts, Ben Salters crammed himself to the walls inside the quickening, vibrantly pulsing vaginal sheath of his beautiful naked victim. His left hand still clutched her buttock, squeezing, kneading the still-shuddering flesh, while his forefinger began to move back and forth inside her asshole just as his prick was moving inside her quivering cunt. Eleanor Martin's eyes were open, staring up at the dirty cracked ceiling without sight, and her arms clutched him all the tighter as her legs' shifted over his, her stockings now rucked down to her calves, her sandaled feet furtively and sporadically jerking and kicking as his possession of her began to waken the innermost sensations which till now had been reserved only for Ranee.
His forefinger was gouging inside her bumhole, back and forth, now with the same rapidity as his prick inside her cunt. Her head turned from side to side, her nostrils twitching and shrinking, her mouth gaping with sobbing groans, inarticulate and wordless cries.
"Owwww-aaahhh-ouuu-ooohh-please, don't-oohhh!"
"Come on, baby," he panted, "I'm getting close. Let's show some life! Shake that sweet ass and let's go off together in a cloud of dust. Shake that ass, I said, you squirmy little bitch!"
Now his finger gouged to the hilt and twisted back and forth, wriggling inside her tightening asshole walls, while his prick sent thrust upon thrust cramming deep within her matrix.
Eleanor Martin suddenly lifted her head, her eyes glazed, her mouth gaping in a wordless, high-pitched shriek: "Eeeeyahhhouuuu!!!" Then, whimpering and sobbing hysterically, betrayed by the fierce answering primal lust within her own beleaguered woman's body, she felt herself catapulted into the empyrean realm of carnal abandon and total ecstasy. Her nails gouged his lean, bare back, her legs shifted to clamp with savage tightness over his sinewy buttocks as she arched up her pelvic basin to meet his last few digs, and then felt herself swoon as the tumultuous spasm seized her, at the very same moment his hot drench burst into the channel of her enervated and responsive cunt.