Chapter 6
Candy Winston sat primly in the chair in front of her aunt's big mahogony desk, and hoped she didn't look as bored as she felt. Jennifer Danton had been pleasant, but rather cool, and she had assigned Candy to a private room all her own, much to the latter's relief. After what her mother had told her about dormitories, Candy had been afraid that she would be forced to room with some absolute drip, some pupil who was sent away to be smart and got rid of by her folks who didn't want to bother with her. At least, thank goodness, Mother didn't expect her to spend this summer studying under Aunt Jennifer, gratefully thought to herself.
"Now then, Candy," her aunt began with a brief smile, "what we have to do is to find some way of making this a kind of vacation for you. I know it must be rather dreary, being in a small town so far away from home. But we do have a recreation yard-"
"Aunt Jennifer," Candy interrupted, "I happen to be twenty years old, 'I'm finished with school as far as I'm concerned, and I didn't want to come here in the first place. Do you have any horseback riding or tennis or anything like that? Or can I go swimming?"
"We do have a small private pool in the basement of this school of mine," her aunt conceded. "Horseback riding isn't one of the privileges I allow my girls, however. Nor is tennis. They play volleyball, sometimes a little soccer, but mostly they do setting-up exercises. Gymnastics, you know, to keep the muscles and the skin in tone. I'm afraid you'll have to shift for yourself as best you can, my dear."
"I sort of get the idea you really didn't want me to come here in the first place, Aunt Jennifer," Canday said very peevishly. Since she was never very considerate of other people's feelings, she didn't notice the shadow of annoyance which passed over her aunt's imperious face.
Controlling herself with an effort, Jennifer Dalton merely remarked, "Well, the fact is, your mother begged me to take you. I know it sounds like charity, dear, but this school is really not a place for a city-bred young lady, especially one who is looking forward to dating young men. I may assure you, here and now, Candy, that my girls have absolutely no contact with boys. In fact, most of the girls here are being brought up by relatives, not parents, and they are quite a ways away from their original homes. Naturally I have to look after their morals, so of course no boys are permitted and no dating is allowed."
"Thank you very much. I'll find something to do. I just hope I don't have to stay here all summer," Candy Winston said as she rose abruptly and walked out of her aunt's office.
Again she failed to notice the irritability which she had caused her mother's older sister, and she didn't have the power to read other peoples' minds, or she would have been horrified at what Jennifer Danton was thinking right now: I'd like to take that young lady down to the-punishment room, undress her, and give her a taste of the whip on her big bottom. I'd like to make her howl and dance, I'd like to hear her beg for mercy and promise not to be so insolent from now on.
Sheriff Hawkins had brought tearful Betsy Wymer a big breakfast on a tray, two pork chops, fried potatoes, toast, coffee, and a glass of orange juice. He was in an affable mood as he unlocked the door of her cell.
Betsy uttered a feverish cry, clapped one hand over her pussy and shrank back against her bunk. "Oh please, S-Sheriff, don't-don't hurt me anymore!" she whimpered.
"Now, is that any way for a sweet little girl like you to talk, honey?" he chuckled. "I'm going to stay here till you finish every bite. 'Course, y'unnerstand that I paid for this breakfast out of my own pocket. Hell, the county don't have that much dough to afford fancy breakfast for a little tramp and runaway like you, Betsy girl. So you better eat it up fast and don't waste any."
Cowering, the young girl obeyed him. His eyes roved her naked body. When he had finished with her last night, he had stripped her absolutely naked, even stockings. Now his eyes greedily devoured her panting titties, and he felt his prick harden when he saw how she was struggling to clench her thighs together so that she wouldn't show her pussy. He thought he might keep her another few days and nights, and then probably turn her back to her stepfather. What he would really like to do was go back with her and watch what her old man would do to her for running away like that. A good sound licking and then probably a screwing. But then, a timid little bitch like Betsy wasn't good for much except fucking and whipping anyhow.
[[[ IMAGE 06 ]]]
For a moment, his mind turned to that crazy old house which Jennifer Danton had bought and turned into a private school. One of these days, he was going to pay for a right neighborly social call. Not that there'd been any scandal or rumors of anything amiss over there, but just the same, as the law in Kentley, it was up to him to make sure that Jennifer Danton was running the place strictly on the up and up. And there was sure an awful lot of sweet young cunt over there, too.
Again his mind wandered, while poor Betsy Wymer hastened to eat if only to propitiate the man who had whipped and fucked and brutalized her so dreadfully last night. Sheriff Ted Hawkins was thinking about his gangling, towheaded twenty-year-old nephew Philip. Actually, his older brother had got a timid brown-haired bitch (not unlike Betsy Wymer) into trouble and had had to marry her. She'd died in childbirth, and his brother had remarried about six months later. He'd had sort of a bad financial time, so Sheriff Ted Hawkins had helped out. Hell, he'd even partly paid for Phil's education in Springfield, and seen to it that his nephew had a few advantages. The boy was al ready a cocksmith, a real chip off his own block.
Right now, Phil was taking a special course in Springfield, a two-week "orientation," they called it, in the duties and responsibilities of law enforcement people. Maybe Phil would decide to come to Kentley instead of staying with his folks. Sheriff Ted Hawkins sure hoped so, because he wanted to groom his nephew to take over his job one day, and it wouldn't be a bad idea if Phillip began to find out exactly how to make the law work for him ... just as his uncle was doing right now with this cute little piece of cunt Betsy Wymer.
"I-Pve finished, S-Sheriff," Betsy quavered.
"Why, so you have, honey!" Ted Hawkins guffawed. "I'll just take the tray now and set it outside, and then you and me are gonna get to know each other better, huh, honey?"
"Oh please-oh please don't-not anymore-please-" she began to sob.
"Now you cut out that squawking, baby, or I'll sure as shit give you something to yell about," he growled. He took the tray, set it down on the floor, then closed the cell door behind him. Betsy couldn't escape, but she tried to huddle back against the wall, and now both hands were over her cunt and she was staring at him with agonized, tearblurred eyes.
"Yep," he went on, relishing his words and also the cowering naked teenaged victim before him, "I see I gotta give you another lesson, Betsy, how to say thank you to a man that gets you a nice breakfast like this. Now you just go down on your knees, see?"
And when the unfortunate young girl hesitated, he stood up, began to undo his belt buckle and growled, "Do it, or I'll lick you raw with this!"
With a sobbing little cry, Betsy shrank down on her knees at once, clasping her hands and staring up at him with the most poignant look imaginable on her lovely, wistful face. He gloried in his power. He felt like a sultan ruling a harem, because nobody was ever going to know what he was doing to Betsy, and she herself would dare tell with the time he finished with her. And there would be lots of Betsys before this year was up. What he'd really like would be to get some rich snotty bitch from one of the big towns like Chicago or Detroit, vacationing down here and maybe breaking a law and trying to pull her weight over him. Boy, what he wouldn't give to have one of those blueblooded fillies dangling by a rope tied to her wrist from a hook he had put in the ceiling outside, using his belt on her naked ass and tits until she begged him to fuck her, brown her or do anything in the world except not whup ass anymore!
"Now then, Betsy, let's see if you learned good what I taughtcha last night, huh? Go on, yank my zipper down and take my prick out.
You know what a prick is by now, I'll be bound, haw haw haw!" he sniggered.
Betsy's lovely face turned crimson now, and she put a hand to her mouth and then began to sob: "Oh please, Sheriff, don't make me do that filthy thing, oh please don't!"
"You're still being uppity, aren'tcha, you little bitch? I see I gotta give you another lesson. Well, I got an appetite for it, I'll tell you that. See this belt? I'm gonna whup your ass and tits until you give me a blow job, Betsy. And if you don't do a good job then, I'll keep you here an extra week before I decide what I'm gonna do with you anyhow, savvy?"
He dragged the belt loose from the loops in his trousers, lifted it up, and Betsy uttered a scream of terror and at once began to fumble with his zipper. He guffawed salaciously as she pulled out his stiff cock, and put her trembling lips to it, fighting the urge to vomit in her nausea and shame and terror.
To encourage her, nevertheless, the belt flicked her back and neck and shoulders and side and hips lightly, as he gloated and gloried in her distress and loathing. He could feel the trembling lips move over his cock, and then, at his curt commands, move down his turgid shaft to his balls. Finally he ordered her to lick his balls, and when she hesitated, gagging with revulsion, he lifted the belt high and swung it down so that the tip just darted under the base of her ass right at the crease and flicked up into the tenderest part of all.
With a wild scream, poor Betsy Wymer cupped his prick and balls in her hand, bowed her head and tilted it to one side, so that her tongue could get at his hairy balls.
"That's better, now you keep it up. See what you can learn if you put your mind to it, you bitch?" he grunted. "Take it easy now, nice and slow. Aah, that's it, that's real good. Now you kin stop. You git onto your bunk and open your legs up good, I'm going to hose you, Betsy girl."
And when she looked up at him again in abject despair, he brutally swept the belt down the same way, so that the leather bit against the inner edges of her lower asscheeks and its tips flicked around and up against her tender cunthole.
Once again Betsy Wymer shrieked her agony, stumbled to her feet and collapsed on her back on the bunk. She put her knees up in the air at his gesture, spreading them as widely as she could on the narrow bunk. Again at his order, she held out her arms to him, tears streamming down her face. He licked his lips, and he moved towards her. His prick bobbed as he came, and then he sank down upon her. Betsy's sobbing cry of desolation and agony of soul and flesh was silenced as his greedy fat mouth crushed hers beneath his, and his hands roamed under her to squeeze her still well-marked naked asscheeks as he thrust himself to the balls inside her cunthole and began to fuck.