Chapter 1
Johnny Townsend bound, gagged, and raped pretty Wendy.
A shocking assault not so shocking, if you knew Johnny. And a breach of the sacred laws of hospitality.
Since Wendy was a guest in his house.
Well, not his house.. . it was his step-father's house. And it really wasn't a house, it was a duplex apartment.
At least he kept the rape in the family for Wendy was his cousin.
She came from the country, and he had jocularly called her his "Kissing cousin." Well, they were more than kissing cousins now.
He took her in the guest room on the second, upper floor of the duplex early on a week night in mid-winter in the city.
The maid was downstairs, in her quarters, off-duty, watching television with her door closed. Mr. and Mrs. Townsend were not at home this night.
Leaving Johnny alone with a pretty teen girl was a mistake. His mother and step-father should have known what he would do.
It was not, after all, the first time he had done such things.
But then perhaps they did suspect what he might do. Perhaps they wanted him to do it, and had gone out to provide him with an opportunity to do so.
Wendy had gotten ready for bed. Visiting her aunt in the big city had been so exciting, seeing all the sights, doing the town.
But even seemingly inexhaustible teen misses need to rest some time, and Wendy was glad to have a night to herself.
She got ready for bed early, after dinner, although she had no intention of retiring for some hours yet, possibly not until Paula and
Albert Townsend returned.
The guest room was attractive, its colors were gold, pink, white. A small and pretty room, very feminine, thought Wendy.
The room contained a single bed with a soft mattress, a chest of drawers, night table, TV, radio. Its square single window looked out on the streets of the city sprawled out some twenty stories below.
Wendy wore a pink quilted robe, worn open; a sheer white nightie with matching panties; and a pair of fluffy pink slippers.
Sitting on the foot of the bed, facing the oval mirror mounted on the opposite wall, above the dresser, Wendy loosened her long masses of tawny golden hair, unpinning them and shaking out the tresses.
During the day, she wore her long hair pinned up free-flowing hair, worn long and loose, could be a liability in the city.
There were so many things which could snag it closing elevator doors, revolving doors, taxi doors, and the like.
And her hair got dirty very fast here in the city, so she practically had to wash it just about every day.
She set the pins into an ashtray on the night table. Wendy didn't smoke. And she hardly ever drank, except to have some beer with some of the gang back home on Fridays and
Saturday nights when they were hanging out.
Wendy was a junior in high school. School was off for a week of winter recess, allowing Wendy to visit her big city aunt.
Aunt Paula was very sleek and sophisticated. Being around Paula, being in the city, made Wendy more conscious than ever of her appearance.
How fortunate that she was lovely!
Back home, Wendy was one of the prettiest girls in town. Sure, it was a small town. But here, in one of the biggest cities in the world, men's heads turned to watch her. In this city of beautiful girls, Wendy still was a stand-out.
Which can be dangerous.
For the fairest often serve as targets for the foulest lusts.
And the city could be scary. No doubt about that!
Sometimes it was just sickening, to see the scum who shambled and prowled the streets -why, they all ought to be locked up!
Back home, the county sheriff and his deputies would have run every one of those evil-looking characters out of the state.
And Aunt Paula, and Barbara the maid, and even the men folk why, they all lived like they were under permanent siege!
But Wendy was safe inside the duplex.. . or felt safe.. . which is not the same thing, as she would soon learn.
After all, this duplex sat twenty stories atop a towering structure of stone, steel, and glass.
The lobby had 24-hour uniformed security men. No visitor could get past the main desk without first being checked in.
It struck the girl as funny, how many precautions had to be gone through in order for her to feel as safe as she did in the little house back home, where they hardly ever locked their doors!
But this was the city.. .
Wendy was a pippin. Hers was the classic look of the homegrown American beauty:
Yellow hair, pale blue eyes, lovely features, full bust, narrow waist, rounded bottom, and a pair of long, long legs.
Wendy combed out her hair with her fingers, first. It fell in a shimmering curtain of hair reaching to the middle of her back.
To the tips of her breasts.
She took up her brush. She knew better than to think one hundred strokes a night was good for her hair. But she wanted to brush out some of the tangles.
Static electricity crackled through her hair as she ran the brush through it. Her hair was parted down the middle of her scalp.
The silken strands of hair sifted across her breasts, whispering.
Wendy was braless under her nightie. The nightie was a short-sleeved top, made of gauzy clinging white fabric.
It had lace at the throat, sleeves, and hem. It felt so nice against her skin, that slinky nightie!
Like having her tender flesh constantly caressed by the gauzy fabric.
Her nipples formed flat buttons pressing twin rises into the nightie. When she stroked the brush through her hair, her rising and falling arm movements caused the fabric to slide and sift across the nipples.
Her nipples tingled.
Wendy brushed her hair out. It shimmered like a halo. She put her hands under the mane, and brushed it back past her shoulders.
She was in the mood to watch a little television.
Should she call Momma tonight?
No, she had spoken to her mother just the other night. Momma was very concerned that her daughter was away, in the big city.
She kept asking Wendy on the phone if she was all right, and if she was having a good time, and telling her to be a good girl and mind her aunt.
No, she could wait and put off calling Momma until tomorrow.
Yes, some TV would be nice. And maybe later, she would go down and fix herself a snack from the well-stocked Townsend larder.
She knew she could have called the maid with the bedside phone, told her to make a snack, and Barbara would be up here with the tray in jig time.
But Wendy just couldn't get used to having servants wait on her. She was a country girl, used to country ways.
She was used to doing for herself. It had been explained to her that the servants were there to be made use of, but she still was uncomfortable with the concept.
It just seemed brassy to her to call Barbara, now relaxing in her room, and make her get up and make her a snack.
She slid backward on the bed, propped up some pillows between her back and the headboard, and reached for the remote TV switch.
Why, a person didn't even have to get up and turn the channel all she had to do was push a little button on the box, and the channel switched by itself!
. . .The door opened.
Wendy gave a little start.
She had been taken unawares. She heard no footfall, no tread outside her door to betray the presence of someone else.
So, the sound of the door opening took her by surprise.
She told herself she was just a bundle of nerves. Why, it must be Barbara coming to look in on her, that's all!
Wendy smiled. She liked Barbara. The pretty maid was a bit of a kook, as Wendy saw it, but she was also very friendly.
Only when the door swung all the way open, it wasn't Barbara who entered the room, it was her cousin, Johnny.
Wendy's smile froze on her face.
She was uncomfortable and then some around her cousin. He knew it, too.
Johnny was her aunt Paula's son by a previous marriage. Paula had married well the second time, landing wealthy, suave Albert Townsend.
Johnny was almost twenty. He was well formed, with fine features, but there was something about him which Wendy found unattractive, even disturbing.
Johnny was tall and well-built. He looked like a spoiled prince, arrogant, worldly, used to getting his own way.
Like his mother Paula, his hair was dark -but where her hair was a deep dark brown, his was black as shadow.
He wore it combed straight back from his forehead. He surely didn't get outdoors much his skin was waxy, pale, smooth, shining.
His face was almost pretty rather than handsome.
His brows were thick and slightly arched in their middles, giving him a kind of mocking, almost devilish look.
His face was long, thin, chiseled, brooding, clean-shaven.
Tonight he wore a tight scarlet jogging suit. The top had black piping and lots of imagine zippers, flaps, and buttons.
The pants of them were very tight, almost skin-tight, so all the details of his form were revealed, outlined against stretch fabric.
Wendy was faintly scandalized why, back home, she hardly would have dared wear so revealing an outfit!
And none of the fellows on Coach Dinwiddie's high school track team would have had any truck with a imagine outfit like Johnny's.
Wendy stifled a smirk jogging suit, hah!
Why, if Johnny ever got this outfit sweaty, he'd probably burn it in disgust. He was a peacock, vain, preening, posing.
Striking a pose of elaborate nonchalance, he leaned against the door frame.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he drawled.
His voice usually sounded utterly world weary, as if he was bored with the glittering city and all its toys.
An unusual attitude for a young man not yet twenty but then, so many city folk were such outrageous phonies!
It had not taken Wendy long to find that out!
"Oh! I'm sorry, Johnny! Please, do come in!"
Her voice was soft, sweet, faintly slow, tinged with the honeyed lilt of the South.. . and shaded with a bit of worry.
Johnny made her uneasy.
He did so now. He entered, easing the door shut behind him -
Click!
Its lock slid into place.
"Why did you do that, Johnny?"
"Do? Do what?"
"Lock the door?"
"Did I lock the door?"
"Yes, you did!"
"I suppose it would be so we wouldn't be disturbed," he said.
He came to the bed on his way over, he caught sight of his own reflection in the mirror mounted over the dresser.
Almost as if he was guided by radar he stopped and examined himself in the mirror with amazing self-absorption.
He studied his face in the mirror. The sharp tips of long fingers flicked a few straying strands back in place in his hair style.
He was vainer of his looks than any three girls Wendy knew. Not for the first time, she wondered if he was a queer.
It was possible she had heard that the city was full of queers and perverts. Johnny surely seemed sissyish, compared to the regular, rough-hewn fellows back home.
Brushing some imaginary lint from his shoulder, he turned away from the mirror, a smirk denoting his satisfaction with what he
His smirk shifted into a leer, as he looked at Wendy.
Wendy looked down, following the direction of his gaze.
She sat with her bulky quilted pink robe open, revealing the flimsy, filmy nightie top and panties beneath them.
Her breasts pressed perkily against the front of her outfit.
Johnny's ogling sent red color heating up her cheeks.
Back home, Wendy was considered pretty slick and she was no virgin.
But here in the big town, she felt like a country cousin, which is what she was. Johnny's staring flustered her.
Squirming, she pulled her robe closed, covering her anatomy with thick quilted fabric, and pulling its sash belt tight.
"How modest!" Johnny sneered.
"Uh, were you out running?" Wendy asked, tension in her voice as she sought to change the subject to something more manageable.
"Running? Hardly! When it's dark out here in the city, the only running you do is run for your life!
"No, I never take exercise," Johnny said. "It bores me. Or almost never there is one sort of exercise which is less boring than most.
"Can you guess what it is, cousin of mine?"
"Nope!" Wendy said brightly.
"Think harder.. . I'm sure a smart girl like you will get it! Here's a hint, pretty girl it's exercise which two can play better than one!"
"Uh, tennis?"
"No fucking.. . since I have to spell it out for you."
"Now you're talking dirty, Johnny."
"I do more than talk!"
"Well, I don't want to hear about that sort of thing! I was raised to be a lady.. . so why don't you try acting like a gentleman?"
"Only a little ol' Southern gal could get away with a line like that!"
"What's wrong with us Southern girls?"
Johnny gave her a long insulting stare before he leered:
"Nothing's wrong with you, that I can see! But no girl from this town would ever request a guy to be a gentleman!"
"So much the worse for the girls from this town," Wendy sniffed.
"Besides, I know the score it's those imagine ladies, with their snoots stuck up in the air, pretending to be better than everyone else, those ladies, so-called, are the ones who want a good fucking more than anyone else!
"And believe me, cousin, I know!"
"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Wendy demanded.
She had resolved to be nice, but this spoiled overgrown brat was getting under her skin with his needling, and she felt her temper rise.
"If you want to talk dirty, talk to yourself," Wendy said. "That kind of filthy talk doesn't turn me on, I can tell you that!"
"There's other things I'd rather do than talk, cousin like getting between those long, long legs of yours!"
"You are filthy! How'd you like your momma to know you talk like that?! "
"Paula's heard it all," Johnny said. "Heard it all, and said it all, and done it all, too, if the truth be known!"
Wendy shook her head.
"You don't respect a thing, do you? Not even your own mother!"
"Sure, I respect Paula," Johnny said with mock piety. "Why, she's one of the finest women who ever walked the streets!"
"You get out of here, right now!"
"That's funny," Johnny smirked, "you throwing me out of my room!"
"Your room? Why, silly little me I thought it was the guest room!"
"It is but this is where I live, so all rooms here are mine! Now, why don't you stop pretending, cousin?"
"Pretending?"
"You know you want it just as much as I do!"
"I'm going to pretend that I didn't hear what you said," Wendy said. "Now, please go I'm tired and I would like to take a nap!"
"Oh, come on! You can think of better uses for that bed than sleeping!"
Wendy stood up. Her eyes flashed. Color showed in her cheeks. She was quite flustered. She made sure her robe was belted closed, and that no part of her anatomy was showing that shouldn't be.
"If you won't leave," she said, "I will!"
"You won't get far dressed like that!"
"I'm not going far," Wendy said. "Just downstairs. I guess Barbara could use some pleasant company I know I could!"
"Hah! Well, you sure had me fooled! I didn't think you liked girls."
"Huh?"
"No wonder you don't want to do it with me you'd rather go to bed with a girl! Well, that can be arranged especially with Barbara!"
"You . . . are disgusting!"
Wendy went for the door. Johnny stood in front of it, back against it.
"Excuse me," Wendy said.
"Why? Did you do something?"
"I might if you don't get out of my way!"
"Oh! Was I.. . was I blocking you? Gee, I'm sorry, cousin Wendy! How thoughtless of me! I most certainly beg your pardon!"
Johnny voice dripped sarcasm, sour as vinegar.
He stepped aside, opening the door. He made a grand little flourish, a kind of mock bow, gesturing at the open door.
"Your coach awaits, milady!"
Wendy went to the door Johnny went for her.
She went past him. Her front foot was just crossing the threshold when he grabbed her from behind.
"You asshole!" she blurted.
Johnny hooked an arm across her front, pinning her arms to her sides.
There was surprising, dismaying strength in his arms.
"Let go of me mmmmph!"
Johnny clamped his free hand across her mouth, muffling it.
His hand muffled her shouts, while his strength stifled her struggles. With a jerk that made her feet leave the ground, he pulled her back into the room.
He kicked the door shut and dragged Wendy to the bed.
She struggled, to be sure, but he had her at a disadvantage. Her arms were pinned at her sides, so she could not bring her nails into play.
She tried to kick him, but the position was too awkward. She tried to bite him, but he was ready for that, and held his hand to prevent it.
Swiftly he brought her back to the bed, dragging her backward.
His mouth was up close to her ear, hissing:
"Now we're gonna have us some fun, country cousin!"
His mouth was hot, obscene, so close to her ear.
Wendy shuddered.
Then his hand was at her front, reaching, fumbling. His hand on her mouth muffled Wendy's screeches of outrage.
He unknotted the sash of her quilted pink robe, tugging it free of the pair of loops which secured it to the robe.
He tossed her down on the bed, on her back, with such violence that her body bounced up on the mattress a foot or two.
He shifted his grip. His hand moved off her mouth, but just for an instant, so there was not enough time for her to fill her lungs for a scream.
He hopped up on bed, straddling her hips, sitting on her tummy with such force that the breath whooshed out of her.
She clawed at him.
Johnny grabbed her thin wrists and squeezed. Wendy squealed with pain.
He pulled her arms back over her head, crossing the wrists, pinning them down. One hand held her wrists pinned to the mattress, the other hand remained on her mouth.
Johnny reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, wadded it into a ball, and stuffed it in Wendy's mouth.
He crammed it in when she had her mouth open, gasping for breath. It filled the space between her jaws.
Pressing her tongue flat, it also gagged her quite well, and freed his hand from having to block her mouth.
Leaving him the use of both hands to tie her hands.
He used the sash from her robe.
Wendy saw what he was doing. Oh God, she thought, if he ties me, I'm finished!
She tried to jerk her hands away. Johnny snarled, holding her down all the more. His long fingers formed knots, hitches.
He threw a noose over Wendy's hands, then pulled it tight. She groaned when the sash cord bit into her wrists.
He threw some loops around it. Her hands were tied tight.
"That'll keep those hands out of trouble!" Johnny smirked. "And now, cousin of mine, we'll have some fun!"
He straddled her hips. His folded legs gripped her sides, while his ass pressed down hard on her belly.
Wendy tried to work the hankie out of her mouth. It was in tight she was just glad that it wasn't stuffed down her throat!
There was a little give in it, no, not much, but if she kept working her squashed tongue, why, she might be able to work the gag out.. .
But Johnny wouldn't wait for her to do that!
"Why, what great big tits you have, cousin!" Johnny leered. "The better for me to bite and suck on, I suppose!"
Seams split as he pushed her quilted robe open, exposing the sheer gauzy nightie, and the ripe breasts within. "Ah!"
He put his hands on her breasts and worked on them. His fingers itched with the lust to fondle smooth girl-flesh.
"Ummm, you have yummy tits, cousin Wendy!"
Tears of rage glistened in her hating eyes.
"But those nipples could be harder," Johnny taunted. "I can fix that!"
And he gripped both nipples with the pinching fingers of each hands, and twisted them, turning them this way and that.
Wendy's squeals of pain were stifled by the gag.
He gave the nipples one more twist, then let go.
The pinching made both nipples sore, stiff, swollen, throbbing. Wendy's breasts ached with sensitivity.
Johnny moved down on her, so he straddled her hips. Glancing a fearful look between his legs, Wendy saw that he was hard.
A swollen bulge stretched the front of the crotch of his trousers. Even at a glance, his rod looked a most formidable weapon.
He took hold of the lacy hem of Wendy's nightie and rolled it up, exposing her peachy pink flesh.
Her breasts trembled, along with the rest of her.
"It's a shame to cover up tits like that!" he laughed.
Through her gag, Wendy expressed rage, fury, fear, outrage.
Johnny pulled the nightie way up in front, rolling it over the tops of her breasts and exposing them.
She had pear-shaped breasts, of a fullness not found in pears, with rounded globular bases, the mounds tapering to shapely points.
Her flesh was pink and glowing except for her face, which was deathly pale and taut with strain and fear.
Her nipples were button nipples, dark pink in color, each as wide as a twenty-five cent piece. Now, they throbbed stiffly from the pinching.
Johnny clamped his hands on the bared breasts and squeezed them some more.
Gripping fingers sank deep into soft bosom flesh, which welled up in the spaces between the fingers, the writhing gripping fingers.
He palpitated her mammaries. His fingers were spread so her nipples jutted between them. As he clamped down on her breasts, he pinched the nipples some more.
Johnny was in a state of high excitement. His eyes gleamed. Frothy white flecks of saliva bubbled in the corners of his slitted mouth.
It was the only time during the visit that Wendy could recall him not looking and acting as if he was bored, bored, bored.
He must have planned the whole thing, she thought he had the hankie ready to stuff in her mouth as a gag, and he moved with well-rehearsed precision.
He squatted forward, pressing his face against her breasts.
His face loomed leering inches from hers -
Shuddering, Wendy squeezed her eyes shut.
His breath rasped. Heat poured out of his open mouth. A line of saliva drooled from the corner of his mouth and spattered on her tit.
He jammed his face against the breasts, nuzzling them.
He held both tits in his hands, gripping their bases, which he then squeezed tightly so the upper parts of them swelled way out.
He jammed the breasts close together, then rubbed his face back and forth over the nipples, irritating them.
His mouth, gaping open, descended to cover a nipple.. .
Gripping lips formed a pressure seal where they hugged the tit flesh. His mouth sucked like a vacuum cleaner.
He worked the throbbing nipple between his lips, pressing it hard, making it ache. His tongue rasped it like sandpaper.
He bit her with his sharp, nasty teeth, small little bites that left red marks.
Pop!
His mouth came free from one tit with a moist sucking sound. But only so he could slap it down on her other tit.
Where he did the same thing to her other nipple.
His suckings and nibbling of her breasts lasted only a minute or two. To Wendy, the time seemed like an awful eternity.
But it would not last long -
Johnny had other, more intense passions which required acting upon.
He took his mouth off her other tit. Straddling her, he pulled off his shirt.
His torso was very white, making the sleek black hairs coating it stand out by contrast. His muscle definition was sharp, his physique lithe, wiry.
Wendy squealed when he opened his pants and pulled down the zipper.
Within, he wore a pair of red man's bikini briefs, whose formfitting front was stretched way out of shape by his stiff penis.
The fleshy tip of the penis peeked just over the waistband of the undershorts.
Johnny rose up, standing on his knees, which pressed into the mattress on either side of her. He pulled his garments down.
Jogging pants and underpants were tugged down to his knees.
His stiff cock flopped into view.
His penis was seven inches long, circumcised, with a flaring knob head, its wide scarlet shaft wrapped with purple veins.
Wendy's pussy heaved in rebellion at the sight of that awful rod.
Cock-proud, Johnny took hold of himself.
His fist closed on his member. He gave it a few sliding strokes. The penis preened under such treatment, its head swelling even wider.
"See what I've got for you, cousin!"
Wendy groaned.
Her jaws ached her tongue was numb -and she hardly had succeeded in making any headway at all in freeing the gag from her mouth.
But she must keep on trying, she must!
If she could get it loose, and let out one good scream or, just as good if not better, bite Johnny so he was the one who screamed -Barbara might hear and come rescue her in time.
But time had run out.
For, even now, Johnny was stretching out on top of her!
She held her legs pressed closed.
Muscular tension made her thigh and calf muscles stand out like rock. She trembled all over from the tension.
But Johnny had a way around that.
He jammed his bony knee between her thighs, and put the full weight of his body down on that knee.
Wendy's closed thighs could not withstand that forcing!
Johnny got both knees between her spread thighs, opening her and preventing her from closing her legs.
His angry red penis lifted up from his hips at a tilted angle, its head aimed at the ceiling.
Johnny stared down between her legs.
Wendy wore a pair of thin white bikini panties, stretched tight across her nubile hips, outlining her pubic mound and pussy lips.
The curly fringe at the top of her bush peeked out over the elastic waistband of the panties.
Johnny grinned.
He reached down, between her legs.
She tried to slither out of his reach but it was a small bed and there was no place for her to go.
He put his hand on her pussy.
Wendy gave off a bubbling groan.. . one which increased and was prolonged as Johnny fondled her through the panties.
He felt her to see how she was made.
He rubbed her, poked, prodded, fingered. His every touch sent her pussy quivering wildly
this, while her panties were still on. They would not be on long!
In fact, her panties were coming off right
NOW!