Chapter 4
Lizbeth was left alone in the locked room, and she had lots of time to think.
That wasn't good.
First, she knew it was just a matter of time until she would be deflowered, though not by Arturo. By whom, then? He had spoken of how much she was "worth" to him, as if he had thoughts of selling her.
Like a slave? she wondered.
Like a PROSTITUTE?
Her brief sojourn in Mexico had turned into a nightmare whose total dimensions weren't clear to her, even yet. And she wasn't the only one involved. There were Mary Ellen and Roberta, also, whom she hadn't been permitted to see since they arrived at the rancho.
What was happening to them?
Had Arturo attacked them, God forbid?
Lizbeth didn't really believe he had, because if her own virginity was valuable to him, as something to sell, the virginity of the two teenaged girls must have been worth as much or more.
But how much time did they have?
Her thoughts took a turn, and it suddenly occured to her that everything which had happened had been too pat, as if it were prearranged. How did she know that the man who had showed her a badge in Tijuana was a real cop? How did she know Arturo was a lawyer? The whole thing could have been an act that the two men put on to con her into Ar-turo's clutches.
What a fool I was! she thought.
The more she thought about it, the more firmly she became convinced that there were no charges pending against her. That meant, if she could somehow escape from the rancho and find her way to a town, she could get help for the girls, and they could all go home-hopefully before any of them lost what they had brought to Mexico: Their virginity.
She could go right to the police, she now concluded.
Yes! That would be the only place to go.
But how to escape from Arturo? That was her first and biggest problem.
A solution appeared when Lupita brought her a change of clothes.
"Ropa para listed," the girl said, averting her eyes obsequiously as she put the peasant style garments onto the bed.
Lizbeth had to move quickly, and somehow she did, snatching an ashtray off the bedside table and swinginging it against the back of Lupita's head. The Mexican girl pitched forward, and lay unmoving.
Lizbeth felt ill. What if she had killed the girl?
But more pressing was the need to get away, and Lizbeth paused only long enough to snatch up the fresh panties which the maid had brought ... her's were a fright by that time! ... and she streaked through the door, immediately running downstairs while she prayed Arturo wouldn't be in or near the entry hall to grab her. He wasn't. Out of the house Lizbeth ran, clutching the pink panties in her hand.
Her skirt was not well suited for running, and she had to hold it high around her thighs as she raced along the winding road that led away from the rancho. Her metallic garter clips glinted in the fading afternoon sunlight. Her thighs were creamy smooth above her expanded stockingtops.
She stopped as soon as she was out of sight of the rancho, because she had to catch her breath. She took advantage of the opportunity, also, to strip off her panties which were soiled by several secretions of love-juice, and to put on the plain pink briefs which Lupita had brought her. As soon as she had snapped their top elastic against her tummy and had quickly run her fingers around the legbands, tucking those elastics beneath her pouty buttocks, she let her skirt drop.
She balled the used panties in her hand and threw them as far as she could from the road. They opened in mid-flight, then sailed down to land atop a cactus and lewdly hang there. Lizbeth decided that she dare not take the time to go over and remove them to a less conspicuous location. Anyway, she might get pricked by the bush.
She resumed running ... loping, really ... along the dirt road, while throwing frequent glances over her shoulder, to make sure she wasn't being followed. She got to feeling better and better as the moments passed. It was obvious that she had made good her escape.
But she didn't feel very good physically. She was fighting for breath, and her legs began to ache. She had to slow to a walk. '
Another cause for concern was that it would soon be dark. She had no idea how far the nearest town was, and the thought of trudging along the road in pitch darkness terrified her.
The road from the rancho finally intersected with another one which was wider and showed signs of heavier use, but it also was dirt. Lizbeth saw no houses, no structures of any kind ... and no sign of human life.
The more tired she became, the slower she walked. She kept looking behind her in the gathering gloom, but still there was no evidence that she was being followed. Was it possible, she wondered, that Arturo had flown away from the rancho before she bopped Lupita, and that no one had yet discovered the girl? But surely, unless Lupita was dead, she would have regained consciousness and sent out an alarm by that time.
Ah, but if she was alone, there would have been nobody to tell. And Lupita wouldn't have taken it upon herself to come after Lizbeth, the latter felt sure.
It appeared that she really had gotten away!
Now if she could just make it into town...
A sound from behind told of an approaching vehicle, and Lizbeth hurriedly left the road. She ran to some nearby rocks and hid behind them.
When the vehicle appeared, it proved to be an ancient, rattling truck ... hardly the sort of conveyance which Arturo or anyone from his prosperous ranch would use. Lizbeth jumped out of hiding, and ran to the road.
The truck's tires kicked up dust as they skidded to a stop. A swarthy, fat Mexican sat behind the wheel, and he grinned at the beautiful blonde. His equally fat wife sat beside him, and two ... or was it three? ... bobbing, squirming young children crawled over and between them, trying to get a look at the strange light-haired lady.
"Hello!" Lizbeth said. "Do you speak English?"
When that didn't change the grin on the driver's face, or produce a reply, she tried what Spanish she could remember:
"Hablo ... no ... hablas English? Uuh ... ingles?"
"No, senorita," the man said.
Oh, good grief! Lizbeth thought. She wracked her brain:
"Uuh ... tengo ... no! VOY Yes, voy a la ciudad?'
"Si!" the man replied, and followed with a stream of words that Lizbeth didn't comprehend. But he was motioning for her to get into the back of the truck, and that was good enough.
She hurried along the boarded side of the vehicle to its open rear, and stopped cold. The bed of the truck was empty except for some canvas ... and two black-haired, brown-skinned boys in their mid-teens.
They laughed and spoke to each other in Spanish, then reached down to help Lizbeth onto the truck-bed. She scrambled up, turned and sat between them.
She smiled, her cheeks flushed and her hair a bit disarrayed. "Hello," she said.
"Ola!" one of them replied.
They both laughed.
The truck gave a lurch and resumed its rattling way along the road. The boys eyed Lizbeth hungrily.
Mexicans, she had heard, matured at a very early age. Though the boys with whom she was riding were only fourteen or fifteen, they had had sexual experience, she assumed and they probably thought they were about to have some more.
How ironic it would be, she mused, if after escaping Arturo and whatever dastardly plans he had for her, she would end up losing her virginity to a couple of farm kids!
Well, she wouldn't let it happen!
When the boys began to touch her, still snickering and exchanging obviously sly remarks, she took the proverbial bull by the horns: She unzipped the jeans of each youth.
That shocked them, and they took their hands away from her body to sit straight up and stare down at their laps. Though she was blushing and fumbling clumsily, Lizbeth managed to remove the boys' little penises from their stretchy briefs and pull them into view. Hot cute and brown and wiggly they were!
No.
Even as Lizbeth thought about the wiggly part, the boys, organs became stiffer. They stuck up hard. But they remained quite small, and they both had hoods which ended in a ruffled ring encircling the tips of their knobs.
What had worked with the man in the gift shop would work with these kids, Lizbeth blushingly concluded, and she began to stroke their velvety foreskins up and down across the ridges of their cockheads.
"Madrecita!" one of them exclaimed as he squirmed with delight.
"Maaaaan!" said the other, who was obviously a fan of gringo films.
Lizbeth's shameful scheme seemed to be operating quite well. As long as she had hold of the youngster's cocks and was masturbating them ... or jacking them off as she had overheard some of the dirty boys at her school say ... they couldn't stick their darling little dicks into her. But their hands were still free and, as their childish lust heightened, they became determined to put their hands to work.
They quickly unbuttoned Lizbeth's blouse. Like the man in the Tijuana gift shop, they perceived that her brassiere was a flimsy, stretchy thing, and they yanked itr cups down. They uttered new cries of delight as her lively breasts bobbed free and jiggled with the motion of the truck.
"Que chi-chis!" one of them said, and she didn't know what that meant.
"Lindas tetas!" said the other, which had to mean tits. But why Linda's tits? What made them think that was her name?
Never mind, Lizbeth decided, as she dreamily responded to their rolling and squeezing of her titties and the bumping of the hard truckbed against her ass. She squeezed their throbbing little cocks and stroked them ... more slowly. Somehow she didn't want the game to be over too soon.
One boy bent his head, then the other did the same.
How nice it was, Lizbeth mused warmly, to have both her nipples sucked at the same time, by such eager mouths! The jouncing of the truck jiggled her tittyflesh against their lips. They nursed at her nipples as if really trying to draw milk!
But she would get milk first, she naughtily anticipated while stroking their rigid little dicks up and down.
Suddenly she thought of what she had watched Lupita do with Arturo. If she wanted to try such a thing herself, just to see what it was like ... what better opportunity would she have than now, with these two kids who didn't know her?
Did she have the nerve? It seemed that her nerve had been increasing lately. She had, in fact, become quite bold during the last two days.
She guessed that putting her mouth on a guy's cock wouldn't make her sick ... as nasty as the idea seemed ... because Lupita did it and she had seemed in excellent health. At least, until Lizbeth had clouted her.
I'll just give one of them a quick lick, she decided, urged in part by the stimulation of their sucking at her tits.
She had to push the boys away from her body in order to bend forward, and they resisted that. But as soon as she managed to dislodge one of them sufficiently to make her move, they acquiesced in thrilled fascination.
She bent to one stuck-up, throbbing cock which she held, and she glided her hand to the base of it, holding its foreskin all the way back. A strange scent drifted up her nostrils ... not bad, really, but different. She almost got cold feet. But she was so warm in other places that she bent farther and stuck out her tongue.
"Aaay, mamacita!" the youth cried as Lizbeth's tongue touched the slitted tip of his quivering cock.
That, which followed her stroking of him and his sucking her chi-chi, was all it took. The kid geysered, right against Lizbeth's mouth, and some of his jism squirted back on her tongue while the rest struck her lips. She raised her head, sputtering, and his next shot went in the air.
Lizbeth's taste-buds rioted to the flavor of the fresh boy-cream. She had been stimulated by the tangy taste she had derived from the surface of his cock, as well. Excited as she now was, she wanted more.
She turned to the other lad and bent to his lap. Her tongue quickly swirled around the crown of his stuck-up penis, then she clasped the small rosy mushroom in her mouth. She sucked heatedly, her brain swirling, and the youth glided his hand between her legs.
She came as he pressed the crotch of her silken panties. He must have felt her juice seep through the film fabric while she sucked hard on the head of his little-boy prick, and he shot. This blast went entirely within Lizbeth's mouth, swirling over her tongue and driving her taste-buds wild. Her orgasm increased, and she bounced up and down on her warm, throbby bottom. She swallowed the boy's sperm, because that was about all she could do. She wanted to do it, anyway!
He blasted again, and she swallowed that, also.
He was such a dear, and he had he had such a darling little cock! He spurted some more, and Lizbeth gulped it all down.
Finally she raised her head, glassy-eyed, and licked the jism off her lips.
"Wow!" one boy said.
The other just grinned happily.
Lizbeth cuddled them both to her bare breasts and stared out through the back of the truck ... at a man on a motorcycle, who was following behind. He must have been there long enouph to see what was going on, because his cock was sticking nakedly up from his lap and he was stroking it with a gloved fist.
Lizbeth blushed several shades of crimson, and she cringed against the youths, trying to hide her face. But she had to peak just enough to watch the motorcyclist go off, his sperm spurting up and arcing to the side as he one-handedly wheeled his bike out and around the rattletrap truck and was gone!
"Shit!" Lizbeth said, for the first time in her life.
The boys laughed, evidently understanding, and she joined in. The whole thing had been terribly embarrassing ... but thrilling, also!
And she managed to save her virginity once again.
The town where the Mexican family drop-
ped her consisted of a dirt business street and several intersecting avenues where straggly trees tried to grow and some simple houses stood. A few old cars snorted and chugged about; other inhabitants rode burros.
Lizbeth, attracting the attention of everyone, walked along the main street until she spied a small white-stucco building which had a crudely painted sign that read^Polida. She opened the door and entered.
There were two desks in the front room, one occupied by a large, middle-aged man with officer's insignia on his tan uniform, the other by a skinny younger fellow whose uniform was plain and ill-fitting. His large shoes, which were cocked on a battered desk, badly needed to be shined.
As Lizbeth entered, he uncocked his shoes and straightened up. The officer rose, and a smile came to his round, swarthy face.
"Oh, am I glad to see you!" Lizbeth exclaimed, not bothering to shut the door of the crude office. "Do you speak English?"
"Yes!" the large man said. "I am Guillermo Padilla, the chief of police, at your service."
"Wonderful! Oh, you don't know what a relief this is!" Lizbeth shut her pretty eyes momentarily, as if offering a quick prayer of thanks for her deliverance. "My name's
Elizabeth Parsons, and I am an American. I've been held prisoner on a ranch near here."
She watched the police chiefs eyes change. A crafty expression came into them.
"Was it the ranch of Sr. Reyes?" he asked, in suprisingly good English for an inhabitant of a remote Mexican town.
"Yes!" exclaimed Lizbeth. "You must have had other complaints about him, I'll bet. Well, he's a very bad man! I'm a schoolteacher on vacation with two of my students, and he tricked us to bring us to his place. He's still holding my girls. They're only thirteen and fourteen years old."
"Aaah!" Guillermo said, smiling more broadly.
Lizbeth considered it a strange response, and she demanded, "Aren't you going to do anything?"
"Yes, I will do something." He barked a command at the skinny fellow, who quickly rose and shut the door. He suprised Lizbeth by locking it.
"What's the idea?" she asked.
"You are under arrest, Miss Parsons," the police chief said.
She stared at him. "But... but..."
"You are already under charges for narcotics possession, are you not?"
"Yes, but... how did you know that?"
"It is my business to know things," he said enigmatically.
He glanced quickly at his assistant, who was looking at Lizbeth like a fox might look at a chicken. "What do you think, Pepe?" he asked in English ... obviously for Lizbeth's benefit, since the fellow didn't appear to understand a word. "Should we not treat Miss Parsons as we treat every other prisoner and give her a thorough search before throwing her into jail?"
While Lizbeth reacted vehemently against that suggestion, the big police chief translated for his assistant.
Pepe's eyes became even brighter and more greedy than before. Guillermo seemed to enjoy the idea himself.
It was clear to Lizbeth, as she backed fearfully against the adobe wall, that she had done exactly the wrong thing in going to the police. For all the help they were going to give her, she might as well have remained with Arturo!