Chapter 9

Slowly, Jody became aware of an eerie, bizarre sensation of existing outside her body, looking down at her naked body as she sat spraddle-legged on the floor of the motor home. Her rectum burned with such intensity she felt like crying, but she had no more tears. She let her head slump forward and watched the black man's thick semen drain from her and from a sticky pool in blobby drips below her aching, throbbing vulva.

Numbly, she took the cup he handed her and forced the fiery liquor down her throat. It seemed her brain had shut off conscious awareness and there was no revulsion in her any more, just a feeling of being enslaved to whatever he wanted to do to her.

There was an exhaustion in her. Her limbs felt heavy and languid. She drained the cup of whiskey and lazily handed it back to the huge Negro who sat before her on the end of the small dinette seat.

"Scoot over here," he coaxed her. She glanced up at him vacantly and moved, her bottom blotting up the pool of his cum. She let him tug her into the broad space between his legs and she stared with blurred vision at his lolling balls and immense penis that was still fully erect.

"No more," she pleaded dully as he lifted her arms, curled her limp fingers around the heavy barrel of his hot, still wet penis. Intuitively, her fingers tightened on the massive shaft and she peered with dazed fascination at the huge plum on the end.

He guided her hands to jacking him off slowly, chuckling softly, with satisfaction. "That's the girl," he murmured as he hands hauled the thick, taut foreskin down from the glans, toward the base of his tremendous trunk. The stirrings of disgust passed quickly and the question wasn't "if" but when he would compel her to suck his incredibly black, grotesque sexual prod. "Get with it, Cunt," he purred, voice deep with a tone of menace.

Jody inhaled, breathing flowing with a harsh rasp. "No. Please? No? Don't make me do that?"

"You shittin' me? Hell, yes, I'm gonna have it that way. I promised you--and I keep my promises. I said you were gonna go down on me and give me a blow-job. I love the sight of a pretty white girl's mouth stretched out of shape around my black cock."

Jody shook her head slowly in helpless -desperation. Why, she wondered numbly, doesn't Clemson do something to help me. Quickly, he grabbed her hair, even as she was pleading, and rubbed her nose and cheek against the fat head of his dong.

She howled unintelligibly and it seemed he was tearing away her scalp. No escape, her mind cried. Unbidden, she licked tentatively at his greasy, pungent knob. His grip on her hair eased and she responded accordingly, licked the rich glans and fastened her mouth around the sticky, slick knob, teeth closing carefully behind the corona. Intuitively, she used both hands to flog the thick skin down to the hair-matted base, then up against her vacuuming lips.

Her eyes flickered briefly to his intense face, inviting his approval and leniency. He nodded quickly. And she sucked hard on his cock, instinctively mouth-fucked him erratically.

He moaned softly and the pressure on her hair and scalp increased. "You can take a lot more than that," the black man jeered. His other hand, behind her head, forced her face down on his flesh stump, almost choking her. He forced her forward so that her neck straightened as his cock was slowly forced into her throat. Her hands slipped from his pulsating shaft to cup his big, hairy balls. Although her mouth was crammed full of his ebony prick, her throat seemed to expand to accommodate the vast girth of his rigid member. Her tongue wallowed around his meat as she sucked on the invading, blood-ridged prick. "Make me shoot by mouth-fucking me and gobble my goop," he grunted, a demanding, remorseless tone to his voice.

From the compelling hand behind her head, she began to ride her mouth up and down on his twitching cock. "Go at it, Babe. Swallow all my cock. Mouth fuck it fast and in a minute, I'm really gonna throw a cunt-buster flood of jizz into your gullet.

This all has to be some kind of nightmare, she mused, a hollowness in her mind. But she obeyed him and rapidly slipped her mouth up and down on his prick, her hands playing with his heavy gonads. Her tongue slurped the pulsating cock-head on the back stroke and she tickled her fingers against his hairy asshole as she dived her face back down on his spear, devouring his prick in her throat.

"You suck cock good," the Negro chortled.

Insanely, Jody heard herself mewling like a whipped animal. "Go, Babe, go!" howled the black man and his hips began bucking, driving his monstrous cock into her mouth until her forehead was being thumped against his groin bone. "Take all my prick in your cock-sucking mouth," he yelled and she swallowed mightily as he unleashed a flood of musky cum into her throat. She fought off the impulse to nausea and concentrated on gulping down his jizz to keep from choking and gagging.

Suddenly, as his ejaculation had ebbed to a trickle, he kicked her away violently and lunged toward the driver's seat. She looked up, stunned, as the giant black slammed his fist into Clemson's face. Clemson dropped the small pistol and the black man kept beating his head, dragged him up and hammered a fist into the smaller man's ribs and solar plexus.

"You treacherous son of a bitch," the Negro growled, kicking the small gun to the left of the driver's seat. He turned, eyes blazing, and picked up his clothes. Glancing from the unconscious Clemson to the terrified Jody, he dressed quickly, raised a finger in a phallic symbol at them both and bolted jauntily from the bus.

Jody had no idea how long she had sat at the dinette, stunned and despondent. Idly, she wondered whether Clemson was dead. But she could see the slight moving of his shoulders as he breathed. With just a shadow of resentment, she saw the black man, on a horse, eight or ten head of cattle before him, head back the way they had come.

Several minutes after he had disappeared, oblivious to her nakedness, she heaved wearily to her feet and timidly approached Clemson. She had wanted him dead, but some sense of logic told her that she needed him now, to get out of there. There was a compelling urge to throw up as she peered down at him. His right ear was black and his face was scaly with dried blood. There was a knot on his left jaw side the size of a golf ball. He had bled all over the seat and there was a sticky pool of it on the floor behind the driver's seat.

Fearfully, she touched his left shoulder. "Clemson?" She patted his shoulder urgently. "Clemson. He's gone now. Why didn't you help me?"

He groaned weakly, stirred and would have fallen from the seat, if she hadn't steadied him. "I'll help you back to your bunk," she said. "Want me to help you back to lie down?"

He didn't look up, but nodded slightly. She took his left arm and struggled with him to get out of the seat. She tugged and pulled at him as he crawled and groveled to the rear. She nearly fell as he heaved himself through the curtain and onto a bunk.

"Want some coffee? A strong drink? Anything?" she asked helplessly. She slid the curtains open and stared at the injured man. His mouth, with torn, battered, swollen lips, worked, but no words came.

Feeling sick, she floundered to the sink. She found an aluminum kettle and filled it with cold water. She brought a wash cloth from the bathroom and returned to Clemson. He groaned as she gingerly began bathing away the blood from his face and ear.

"Best I can clean you up now," she said. And she went to the refrigerator for ice. She wrapped ice cubes in a dish towel and awkwardly shaped it around his head. She saw recognition come slowly to him and his eyes blazed through the clumsy ice poultice.

"You didn't do a damned, fuckin' thing to help me," he grumbled, almost lacking coherency.

"Me?" she yelled shrilly, with a sudden release of anger and humiliation. "You! You didn't do anything to help me. You just sat there and let that big son of a bitch rape me and force me to do that sickening animal thing to him with my mouth," she screamed. "I could kill you."

"You enjoyed sucking his filthy black cock," Clemson snarled at her, his mouth working and starting a new trickle of blood from his mashed teeth.

"I—did—not!" Jody railed, voice an insane scream.

Sick with contempt for him--and herself--she backed away from his hideous haranguing accusations. With the deepest despondency she had ever felt, she shuffled forward and stood staring at the place where the giant black man had debauched her.

Morosely, she wondered how all outdoors could be so gloriously beautiful and she could feel so old and ugly.

Renewed loathing for Clemson was awakened in her as he cursed her again, loudly and obscenely. She half-turned to retort, then shrugged with indifference. She opened the refrigerator and took out a bottle of chilled water, and saw his blood on her arms for the first time. She drank deeply, greedily, replaced the bottle and silently closed the door. Then she peered down at herself and saw smears of his blood on her breasts and her belly where she touched herself with the wash cloth as she tried to clean him.

"Shut your cowardly mouth," she shrieked at Clemson as she turned, picked up the shirt and wearily left the motor home. As she knelt at water's edge there remained a tortured burning in her, of having her pussy and butt hole raped. And she gagged impulsively on "recalling that she had had that monstrous black cock crammed into her mouth and down her throat. She had sucked on it, curled her tongue around the prodigiously ugly, huge head and had gulped down the thick, copious flow of his jizz.

Why, she wondered dismally, had the spirit to survive, to deter physical brutality exerted itself during her degradation and all she wanted to do now was die?

She dropped the shirt and carefully picked her way out into the cool water. She waded slowly, feet picking the way, until she was waist-deep. She turned to face upstream and shivered with ecstasy as the slow current hugged around her legs and through her crotch and past her belly. It was so soothing and cool in the crack of her ass and she dipped her hands into the water, to spread the outer and inner petals of her furrow to let them cool and wash clean.

"Ooooooo," she sighed and squatted in the water to her chin. She reveled in the sweet deliciousness of the cool river washing her. She splashed water into her face and slowly sat to duck beneath the surface. Then she surfaced and shook the water from her stringy blonde hair and tried to comb out the strands with her fingers.

She stood and rubbed away all traces of Clemson's blood from her tingling breast cones and her belly, then jack-in-the-boxed her body in the water to rinse herself. She contemplated swimming across the river and starting to plod to the north. But she had no shoes and no clothes but Clemson's shirt. And she had no idea how far it was to help.

After a time, she left the water, picked up the shirt and minced upstream to a large, flat rock where she stretched out in the brilliant sunshine. Later, with the sun at two-o'clock high, she crept to the bus and sneaked out two bottles of beer.

Clemson either heard her or was dreaming. He yelled out that he was going to get even with her for not helping when the "nigger attacked me and all the time I was getting set to shoot him for fuckin' you." And he ranted something about how he wasn't going to get paid for waylaying her and he had good and plenty reason to kill her. "You rotten little fuck- cock-suckin' slut."

Jody thought of finding the pistol and peered around the driver's seat for it, but it was gone and she thought drearily that Clemson must have roused and retrieved it.

As she stared at the water, she dourly contemplated hurling herself into it and letting it carry her away--to death? Her mind plodded as she sought some kind of reason and logic. What had she expected? Had she, unconsciously, anticipated Clemson would regard her differently after she had helped him, cleaned his wounds--an indication that she needed him and was expressing it in a human way? Had she, tenuously in such a short time, expected a bond of mutual respect and cooperation and--even fragile friendship?

She took the remaining bottle of beer to the shade of an aspen tree, driven from the rock by the hot sun. Gloomily, she could see none of this, not from the way Clemson now regarded her. Jody turned onto her back and peered at fragments of the sky, so pale it reminded her of the color of Clemson's eyes. So she deliberately unfocused her eyes and caught the bottle neck in her mouth and corked it with her tongue, letting just enough flow that she could swallow it easily. Suddenly, she gagged--the neck of the bottle in her mouth reminded her of sucking the Negro's mammoth cock.

As she blinked away tears, she again let her thoughts stray to Clemson in the Winnebago. Hope sent a shiver of warmth through her. Maybe--Clemson, too, had suffered a traumatic experience--his attitude would change when he began to heal.

She sat up, smoothed the skirt over her lap and finished the beer. Then, she stood up and returned to the bus and found some soup in a cabinet and fixed a meal she figured Clemson could consume.