Chapter 4
Jody showered as quickly as she could, almost crying out from the sting of the shower spray against the skin scrapes on her shoulders and back and the rawness created by the tennis racket he had whipped against her bare butt.
The aroma of food created a gnawing in her stomach as her feeling of famishment increased. Timidly, she left the small bathroom and slipped forward, she sidled past him at the stove where he was scooping food onto two plates. She no longer made an effort to shield her breasts and crotch from his eyes.
He turned with a plate and a spoon. She took it eagerly. "You have to eat," Clemson said tersely. And he handed her an icy bottle of beer. She passed him and went to stand in the doorway of the bus so the sun could fall on her wet body. She spooned her mouth full of hamburger, potato salad, green beans and a big bite of rye bread.
She chewed with open-mouthed greediness and gulped at the beer with gurgling sloshes and eyed him absently as he slumped into the driver's seat, the plate on his bare legs, nestled against genitals basketed by clean-white jockey shorts.
"This is the life," Clemson mumbled with food in his mouth.
She spooned the remainder of her ration into her mouth, padded to the refrigerator as ordered, setting her plate in the dinky sink.
"I just find it hard to believe," Clemson said idly as they faced each other, sipping the fresh beers, "that you lived with old Fletcher since you were five and he never diddled and doodled around with you."
She glared at him briefly. "Clemson, you are depraved," she said huskily.
He laughed loudly, choking slightly on a swallow of beer and brushed away foam as it cascaded onto his thighs and shorts.
But her mind was chilled as she watched his hand still brushing his shorts, fingers rubbing at the rubbery nodules of his testes and the bent length of his phallus. How could she help but give him his pleasure?
"The beer good?"
She nodded. "Yes. I've been awfully thirsty and hungry."
"Behave and you'll have plenty to eat and drink," Clemson nodded, handing her his empty plate and she put ii with hers in the sink. "Sorry I got mad and sort of mangled your butt cheeks," he murmured. "Do they hurt? They'll be okay tomorrow. Just don't lie on your back." His coarse laughter provoked instant loathing and dread in her.
"Don't lie on your back--unless I'm between your creamy legs and hold your hot little ass up in the air," he laughed and choked and sputtered as he gulped the beer.
"I know we're in Nevada," Jody said softly. "Where are you taking me from here?"
"Shit. Don't stew about it."
"Why?" Jody felt tears about to surface.
For a moment, she was fearful he was about to lunge at her. There was a tensing in him from his feet to the cords in his lean neck. Slowly, he relaxed and the iciness melted in his pale eyes. The muscles along his angular jaw stopped working.
"There are some men--scattered from Florida to Maine, let's say--who just can't afford to have you play in that Vegas meet. They gotta lay off some, bets they took on before you sort of blossomed into the gal to beat."
Jody turned her back to him so the sun could caress her proud breast cones, her tummy and the fronts of her legs. She nestled the cold, wet bottle between her breasts, not caring that Clemson could ogle her buttocks, the tight crease that separated the two, tender loaves.
"There is no guarantee I could or would win," she said slowly. "All the best players in the world will be there. If I said I'd be sure not to win wouldn't you take me to the closest town, give me my clothes and leave me and stop torturing me?"
"Baby, the way you fucked me back out there on the ground, I don't think I'm torturing you," Clemson chuckled. "You shook your fancy little butt really good and coiled your cunny milkers around Clemson's big fuck teat."
She sensed a hot, red flush from her navel to her forehead.
"Baby, I'm getting paid to make sure you're out of that tourney. Ten Gs I think I told you. And they made it positive, I was to kill you, if necessary."
Jody trembled violently, suddenly sick, thinking she was about to vomit what she had eaten and drunk onto the arid desert floor.
"Did they also tell you to rape and beat me?" she demanded hotly, tears flowing from her eyes. Suddenly, she was pitched through the doorway, landing on her knees, toppling forward into the dirt as he kicked her violently in the rear.
"Goddamn you, you proud little slut!" he screamed at her. Then he gained a semblance of control. "That was my goddamned, fuckin' idea. Why not? If they don't care if I cut yer throat or get that little thirty-two out and coop de grass you and bury you under a clump of sagebrush, why shouldn't I treat and use you as a woman?"
Jody lifted herself painfully and gingerly, gently brushed dust and sand from her breasts, her belly and thighs. Daylight was wilting in what she calculated was west, yet it would linger for hours. She was awed by a peculiar fragmenting of her thoughts. Why was she able to admire the colorations and incredibly beautiful shadings of the desert and at the same time feel such loss and despair?
"You don't eat another bite, or drink another drop 'til you make some sign of being civil," Clemson snarled at her. "Now get that bottle and hustle your pert little fanny back inside."
Trembling with fury and hate and frustration, Jody picked up the bottle. She knuckled tears from her eyes, brushed dirt from the neck of the bottle and looked at what had remained of the beer--shaken to foam--in the bottle. Before turning to face him, she let it trickle into her mouth, swished it around with her tongue and swallowed.
As she climbed back into the motor home, she tolerated his lecherous hands fondling and pinching her breasts, shuffled by him and retreated to the back.
She closed the door silently, crawled onto the bed and curled up on her left side, knees nudging the soft lower slopes of her breasts, heels against the undersides of her feverish buttocks.
So her kidnapping wasn't just a whim of a depraved man, she mused, welcoming a warm and languorous sense of exhaustion and uneasy serenity of being alone, in semi-darkness that was sleep-inducing. She just couldn't understand what he had said, about sinister, faceless men who would invite murder to keep her from playing in a tennis tournament.
Her eyes closed slowly and she shuddered with the relief of relaxing, even as her mind toyed dreamily with what he had said about cutting her throat or shooting her. Her eyelids popped open momentarily. He had a gun on the bus. Her heart bounced wildly.
Not with the terror and panic he would kill her, but that she would kill him, if she could find the gun.
Jody awoke with two sensations in darkness so opaque it was almost smothering. One she recognized instantly. It was travel motion. Clemson was wheeling the heavy vehicle over rough, unsurfaced road.
Doesn't he ever sleep, she wondered peevishly at having been disturbed. He must, she mused. Probably in that curtained off area to the rear of the galley.
The other sensation was more elusive to define. Vaguely, she remembered something akin to it when she was fourteen--with her Uncle Fletcher. She scowled in the darkness. Why was Clemson apparently obsessed with the idea she and her uncle had engaged in sex? As she considered it, a slow flush of warmth suffused her body, adding to the uncomfortable sensation. A feeling of torrid hollowness. She pinched her thighs together over the aching, burning between her legs and sensed a hot stickiness.
She wanted a drink, desperately. Even beer would be good. And she yearned to get up and walk around and dispel the itching torment that she definitely associated with one night with her uncle. Shame flickered through her mind, but she didn't fight to erase the thought.
Jody was only casually aware of her right leg lifting, of a hand groping for her torment, palm and fingers spading between her legs, cupping over the kinky thatch of pubic growth. What had happened seemed so long ago and had come about so naturally, easily--and Uncle Fletcher had never let it happen again.
Fingers pressed and needled at the firm flaps of sensitive flesh that shielded the molten sensation deep in her innards. She writhed and kicked her right leg out straight. A finger parted the flaps and slid into the hot, moist little trench. Jody stiffened, flung her head back. "Oh-oh-oh-uh-uh-uh-uh," she panted as the tip of the finger graded across the dainty node in the very upper pinch of her vulva. Sweet, exotic nuances seemed to scamper through her loins and she hastily withdrew her hand and clamped her quivering thighs together.
In the heavy darkness she could see her uncle's face, gaunt and troubled--an afterwards expression. She opened her eyes as wide as she could. She had won her first major tournament in Washington State--after nine hours of either on the court of at courtside, in a blistering sun.
She had sustained a severe heat rash--a blistering--so severe she cried from the sting of the shower. But she hadn't complained, not then, in order not to dampen her uncle's excitement and enthusiasm and pride in her accomplishment. And, in their quiet celebration at their quarters in an Olympia motel, she had quaffed beer-for-beer with him.
But the misery had persisted and she finally, haltingly, mentioned it to him. At fourteen, before her uncle, modesty hadn't been a dominant trait.
She hesitated only briefly before reaching up under the miniskirt, hooking thumbs in the waistband of the bikini panties and lowering them to the knees. She turned her back to him, bent forward and exposed her bottom, spreading her feet.
Fletcher whistled softly, touched the upper crowns of her buttocks tentatively. Then his touch was more firm as his fingers spread the crease between the buns. "Oh, baby, you're all rashed from the heat. You this way in your privates area?"
Jody leaned far forward so he could inspect the inner planes of her thighs, thinking nothing of letting him see her little female pouch. He whistled again. "You really have a jim-dandy heat rash. I think some cold cream will give you some relief. I'll call a drug store and have them deliver some better medicine. You got some on your dresser next door?"
She giggled softly as he patted the stretched half-moons. "In that big plastic jar that looks like it's made of marble. But it's really just plastic. I can get it."
"Never you mind," Fletcher disputed, again swatting her bare bottom affectionately. "I'll get it. You just wait here."
"I'm not going anywhere with my panties down and my butt shining," she quipped. While he was gone she removed her frail skivvies, not wanting to get the greasy ointment in them. Then she relaxed on the floor, on her knees and elbows, waiting for him.
"Looks like you're prepared and waiting for something," Fletcher said when he returned, standing over her and staring at her.
She giggled, peered up at him impishly. Unaccountably for her, daring and boldness and excitement rippled through her. "Yep, you're right. I'm waiting for you to fix my fanny." And she waggled her posterior invitingly.
"You can apply this stuff as well as I can," Fletcher said doubtfully.
"Naw, you do it for me," Jody winked. "I think I drank just enough beer to miss some spots."
She stared back over her shoulder as he sank to his knees between her out-spread calves. When he hesitated, she reached back to haul the short skirt up around her waist, presenting her teen-age rear end. She saw him tug at the bermuda shorts he wore, but wasn't aware of the temptation she posed for him, that he was aroused and that he, too, had drunk enough beer not to be deterred from normal sexual stimulus.
She heard the removal of the cold cream jar lid. She held her body steady as he plopped a large glob of the ointment in the upper beginning of the deep crevice between the firm loves.
"Oooooo, yesssssss," she purred as his fingers spread the cool grease down through her anal crack, smearing ii over the angry, rash.
"Just like spreading butter on toast," he joked.
She sensed nervous agitation in the movement of his fingers as they swabbed at the insides of her legs, actually raked the tough little purse that dangled provocatively from her groin area. She stifled a sigh of satisfaction as one of his fingers slipped into it, parted the thick young lips and probed and gouged into the nifty little rut.
An exciting, erotic delight flamed deep inside her and she choked off her voice--fearful it would halt the ministerings of his finger that was wiggling back and forth in her little sex-trough. She was conscious of her bottom beginning to rotate and invite his finger in her very hot, sensitive place.
Tentatively, she said, "Maybe I should turn over and lie on my back on the floor?"
His answer was delayed briefly, then came abruptly and with effort, "No. No, I don't think you better do that, Jody."
Very cautiously, she bent her head downward, removing her cheek from a forearm so she could peer back under her and could watch her flesh being manipulated by his finger. Nerves screamed with delicious pleasure when he provoked sharp stabs of electricity when he rasped a small area in the upper dent of her little pouch.
"That's really good," she said softly, tingling all over as his thumb rubbed firmly against her hot, itching anus. When he hesitated, she was afraid she had discouraged him and he would stop.
But she saw and felt his hand resume the massaging motion, finger working in her vulva, thumb becoming more aggressive on the torrid pucker of the rear entry.
Her breath caught in anxiety and anticipation as she distinctly heard the sound of a zipper. It was shadowy beneath her nerve-fluttery tummy, but she could see her uncle pushing his shorts down to his knees. His dangling sex appendages were fascinating and slightly unnerving at the same time. Idly, she wondered where the rest of him was. Then she knew as she felt a warm firmness placed upward through the deep vale between the cheeks of her twitching butt.
She held herself unmoving as she focused all her senses on the fleshy contact. Her mind seemed giddy as he moved, pressing himself snugly against her. "Want me to turn over and lie on my back?" she whispered, astonished by her boldness.
Her uncle didn't reply, but she could hear the harsh rasp of his breathing. He brushed the dress far up from her hips, up to her shoulders and his hands caressed smoothly from her hips, up her flanks, over her ribs to cup in under the dress and around her heaving breasts.
She lifted her bottom as high as she could as he began moving, sawing his fully erect penis up and down through her butt crease. She sighed softly with pleasure at the firm, slick rub of his hot meat over her pinched butt hole.
She was no dummy. She knew he was not "screwing" her, but this was a form of masturbation. And she dully knew she liked the pleasurable slide of his peter in her crack, the swing of his massive balls up against her tingling hot pouch.
His hands slid back to bowl around the flare of her hips to hold her firmly, steady her as he stroked his cock through her hairless ass wrinkle. His hands slid around the sides of her cheeks and pressed them inward, around his rapidly sliding bone.
"Ooooohhh, Jody," he whined, humping and hunching wildly, fucking his long, thick cock between her ass cheeks. She could feel the pulsings in the thick, hard barrel as he increased the length of the wild strokings. Then his cock-head slid down her crack, over her asshole, plowed through the dainty gash and plopped against her bare belly.
Awed, she watched the massive, blood-gorged plum spew its white mucous all over her tummy and brassiered bosom. Instinctively, she moved her knees together, pressing her thighs against his hot, vibrating meat and he fucked out the balance of his pleasure between her legs.
She stretched out straight on the floor, let him pull her dress down and go to the bathroom before attempting to rise. When he returned, she had swabbed away his jizz with a Kleenex and was sitting in a chair, sipping a beer.
Uncle Fletcher had never touched her again. But Jody wondered whether she could answer Bert Clemson honestly--if she were inclined--that her uncle and she had never done anything sexually.
The bus stopped, then swung ponderously to the right and the ride was smoother. Jody quickly drifted back to sleep, certain they were again on pavement.
But where?