August Moone Sagas
Book 6
Journeying
Chapter 26
What’s that smell?

Troll Breath
	The smell of earth was everywhere--mostly in his eyes, ears, and mouth.  Worms and other creepy crawly things teamed all over his body; there were roots of various sizes and all manners of underground vines and such as to entangle and bind him.
	And if that wasn’t enough--his chest felt as if a hundred ton boulder had crushed it.  Scarcely could he breathe.  The smell of earth penetrated virtually every pore of his being.  Concentrating on anything was nil.
	At length he came to realize that something had a holt of him, dragging him by the chest.  Whatever it was paused now and then, then moved on.  During the brief periods of “pausing” there was considerable noises.  With the earth in Forrest’s eyes he couldn’t see; and with the earth in his ears; he couldn’t really hear, and with the earth in his mouth; he couldn’t really scream out “Hey! You fuck, fuck off and die and leave me alone!”
	At length, though, the “Fuck” slung Forrest into something of a cave.  The air was stale and slightly putrid.  Several precious minutes were needed to clear his head (holes) of dirt.  It still didn’t help, he could see very little.  A large object moved about in an almost clumsy manner--it was vague and Forrest wasn’t sure if there were one or two of them, or three!
	Austin.  Where was Austin.  Forrest’s concentration abilities were still somewhat on the nil side.  The crust of the earth was still very much embedded in him and for some reason he thought it better to stay put where he was.
	And it was a good idea, by deduction and time, Forrest determined that the creature that meandered about the earthen cavern was possibly searching for where he had thrown his prey (Forrest.)  
	Moving ever so slightly Forrest came across bones.  Former prey.  The leavings of prey.  Bones and pieces of skulls, meat, and other parts of rotting matter formerly known as basic animal critters of the forest as well as humanoid.
	Just to check something out, Forrest took up a piece of skull and gave it a toss.  Instantly it was wailed upon by the creature.  Forrest could ascertain very little about the creature, the cave was dark but there was a light filtering in from somewhere somehow.
	The creature pounded on the skull fragment and then thrashed madly about searching for the “fresh” skull (and attachments) it had just brought in.  Being unable to find it it got pissed and went into a rant.  Forrest wisely buried himself into the earth and remains of the creature’s previous feastings.

Rattus rattus!!
	Down deep in the bowels or aloof on the roof 
	darting jumping leaping creeping
	Silken fur dark eyes bright
	Moving listlessly thru grass and fence
	Roaming freely with guile and pestilence

	Never fearful the wharf rat
	Never undone the cellar scurrier
	Solitary seldom
	in droves optimum
	With pittering and pattering they slink
	With gnashing twitching they wink 
	Making a mess ‘till day is done
	Then slither quietly to begin anew shun

	In the dank darkness 
	Throngs strive to survive
	In the dank gloom
	Hordes succumb to doom
	Everlasting never changing
	The will of the horde exalt!

	No rest for the weary
	No stopping the leery 
	No order  no order
	On and on and on and on and on
	And on and on and on and on and…
	No direction  no connection  
	Only gnashing  biting  chewing  screaming  screwing
	No bonds no honor no order
	Only blood filled minds scurrying to chew out another day
	A pitiful existence
	Haunted  hated  feared  loathed
	No order  no reason  only inbred concepts of social progress

	What lo!  A shimmering light 
	A stranger among the horde
	A furless creature
	It speaks the word of vermin 
	It rallies the horde
	Gives them hope
	Gives them purpose
	Gives them life!
	A reason to live  to be  to exhale to the highest order of disorder
	The rats!
	The rats!
	The rats are coming!

	When he was five some cousins had placed him inside a box, then shoveled dirt over the box.  For a while it was okay.  But the darkness, the dankness, the darkness began to overwhelm him.  The smell of the dirt and his own urine filled him with fear, the enclosureness of the box buried in the earth was none too good, either.	  
	His cries, though, went mostly unheard.  If it weren’t for the dog and cat nutting up, his two cousins may have gotten away with it.  They were “playing” they had proclaimed, their admonishment was a mere ass busting and a scolding.  Young Austin would have likened to see more--like having they themselves buried in the backyard--preferably all night long with rocks piled on top!
	Since that sorrowful incident, being in tight enclosed dark-dank places freaked him out.  Even the scent of “earth” gave him the willies.  He wasn’t thrilled with “darkness”, neither.  
	Another incident came to mind as he slithered like a snake down the hole in the ground where Forrest had disappeared--he didn’t have many friends.  His cousins lived nearby but after their treatment of him they were not allowed at the house.  
	Austin’s family lived just outside of town, in the “sticks” to speak.  There was a small-small river and a creek nearby, thick woods and dense woods and so-so woods.  Farmland and the like sprawled all about, “little redneckville” it was called.  Trailers and small homes were scattered everywhere.  There, too, was a small Indian reservation nearby, too.  Austin had made friends with an older boy from the reservation, a near teenage lad named Snow.
	Austin never knew what tribe Snow was from, not that it mattered--not to Austin.  The two paled around, skinny dipped in the river and creek.  Austin couldn’t remember if Snow ever molested him or not--not that it mattered.
	Snow was Austin’s only friend, sad--aint it?  There were years of separation (er, age separation) but it didn’t seem to matter.  The two would play typical Cowboys and Indians--guess who played who?  There were days of playing Adventurers, Swashbucklers, and other typical summer-no school games.
	Fondly, Austin recalled the smells of summer.  And there were a lot of them, too.  Pig smells dominated his memory, the smell of the pig and the smell of where the pig lived--the sty.  Pig shit, pig mud, and pig.  There was a small homely home along a trail Austin used to get to the creek and where he would meet up with Snow.  Hollyhocks that grew as tall as himself	grew prolifically along the trail, there was wild grass and wild gooseberry bushes, too.  Stinkweed and other “weeds” made their presences known as well.
	At the sty roamed a pig.  A BIG pig, an oinker none like Austin had ever seen before.  It was a HUGE creature, splotches of black with dingy white fur everywhere else.  He had one huge tusk and was the most disgusting grunting shitting/pissing creature Austin had ever seen!
	“Don’t get too close!” warned the farmer who owned the pig.  Farmer Cox (really, that was his name) didn’t warn too many travelers going the way of the trial, but he did warn Austin.
	Austin often offered offerings--in the way of apples, corn on the cob, and bananas.  He would toss the items into the sty and come up onto the old rickety boards--trying not to fall in as he tossed the pig grub to someplace less muddy.  The stench of the sty had been overpowering in the beginning, after a few days, though, it was still overpowering.  But Austin was used to it.
	Rome, the pig’s name was Rome, though proclaimed dangerous to most visitors and passerbyers didn’t seem to bother Austin--although, it was never tested if whether or not Rome would have had a change of heart should foolhardy Austin FALL IN.
	Luckily he didn’t.
	The sty had a tin covering at one corner.  There were other piggies in adjacent sties, Rome had one of his own, a 12 by 12 foot square area.  When sometimes Snow didn’t meet him at the creek--as he was not allowed for some reason to come up to where the “white folk” lived, Austin would return to “chat” with Rome.
	Rome often grunted to Austin’s questions and meanderings.  After a time, Farmer Cox would take the boy (Austin) on some chores; Austin didn’t mind--he didn’t like doing chores at home, but at some one ELSE’S home, sure!
	Feeding slop-crap to the dozen of oinkers was not a chore.  Some were destined for the slaughter house, others were picked out for the showing at the local fair, trade, and selling to other farmers and the like.  Austin paused in his trek down the “rabbit hole”.  His frapped mind brought an image quickly to the front of his mind.  He didn’t remember if ever Snow had fucked him--but he suddenly remembered Farmer Cox…
	One hot afternoon after Snow was a no-show again, Austin returned to visit with Rome.  Rome had already devoured the morning’s offerings of apples and berries Austin had brought.  Farmer Cox hailed the boy “wanna come help me slop the others?”
	Austin was a go.
	As for age, Austin wasn’t sure--it had been awhile ago, he thought himself about 8 and almost 9 years young at the time, making it five or so years ago.  A lot had happened since then…
	After slopping the other oinkers, Cox invited Austin into his house for some refreshing lemonade.  Austin didn’t know much about Farmer Cox; was he married, any kids, any other relatives living (at the house?)  Cox’s house was--small.  Tin roof, missing planks of siding, the porch awning was cracked, rotting, and cockeyed--it matched the porch flooring.  There was a curious smell/odor about the place--kind of  masking the smell from the adjacent pig sties.
	After some lemonade…
	One glass, two, and …
	And…
	And?
	Austin clenched the dirt that was around him.  Dirt and slithering earthen bugs crawled about his neck and hair, all over his body--he remembered too vividly Cox taking him into a bedroom.  In the bedroom Cox laid him out on the old squeaky iron bed--and stripped him!
	Austin gulped and shook his head trying to clear the image.
	But it wouldn’t.
	Once he had been stripped naked, Cox opened his legs and went down on him.  Briefly.  Austin saw himself laying on the bed thrashing about some and when he thrashed too muchly--Cox smacked him on the ass-cheek.  
	Then his legs were pushed wide open, then back.
	Cox was nude and his huge manly prick began poking at his at that time virgin shitter.  There was nothing Austin could do.  Cox entered him and fucked him--and fucked him-and fucked him.
	When afterwards, “You tell anybody and I’ll fed ya to the fucking hogs!”
	The words burned into Austin’s mind.  Then and now.  He saw himself grabbing his clothes and hightailing it out of the man’s house.  He didn’t go home, his Pa would beat his ass--he had been warned “dont to go near Cox’s place, don’t go down the trail, neither!”
	So to the creek he ran, butt naked, carrying his clothes, blood and cum dripping from his asshole.  At the creek he splashed about, falling in and banging himself up against the underwater rocks.  Eventually he came to the great culvert running under the two lane country road.  Bottom Creek ran thru it, but there was always debris within and places to get out of the not-too-fastly running water.
	Austin sat on limbs of trees shaking.  He didn’t fear Rome, he didn’t fear the drunk off their ass kinfolk or Indians.  He didn’t fear being alone, the snakes; water moccasins, rattlers, or snapping turtles.  He feared getting fucked in the ass again and being thrown into the slop for the piggies to eat!
	It was then he noticed a rat.  A dark brown creature paddling madly in the debris strewn creek.  Each time the rat made for a limb or cinder block or the like, the slightly rushing water would sweep it away.  Austin picked up a small limb and aided the waterlogged creature up onto the debris pile.
	“There you go.” he told the rat.  The rat stood up on its hind legs and sniffed the air with its twitching little nose.  It made Austin laugh, its twitching nose and whiskers.
	The rat made something of a squeak and then scurried on.
	Days later and Austin was with Snow.  Austin didn’t tell of what had happened to him--that butt fucking incident with Farmer Cox.  By then, actually, it had been almost forgotten.  To meet Snow, Austin would cross the two-lane country road (paved) and make his way to the creek, avoiding the Cox farm altogether.
	Of course, there was Rome.  Austin missed Rome.  So being sneaky, Austin would crawl through the tall grass and cast off garbage to reach the sty.  Then he would lope the goodies he had over the sty.  When he saw the oranges and apples landing in the mud and pig shit, he got up right close to the old weathered boards and pushed the fruits thru the slats.  Rome would come right up, grunting, shitting, and devouring the offerings.
	One day, Austin was feeding Rome and Rome was eating right out of his hand!  Suddenly, Austin was grabbed up by the nape of the neck, 
	“What the fuck ya thank yer doin’, boy!”
	It was Farmer Cox.
	Roughly the farmer hauled Austin into his house and threw him onto his bed.  Austin couldn’t believe or understand why he didn’t make a run for it or act out or something.  Did the farmer have a hold of him then, a mind device or something?
	He was stripped nude but before being once more fucked in the ass, he was spanked.  Austin had been spanked before--basically beaten, by his dad.  It couldn’t be recalled for what, or if there was even a reason.  But occasionally Austin found himself with his pants and underwear at his ankles and his dad’s dress belt lashing his tender ass skin.
	He then would have to stand in the corner with his burning bum burning until his dad said he could pull up his clothes and go to bed.
	Farmer Cox didn’t use a belt--just his hand.
	After Austin’s ass was reddened, Austin was placed on the bed on all fours, hands/feet, face down--ass up.  Cox then made a return entry to young Austin’s anus and power fucked him it seemed like for ever!  But in reality it was just minutes.
	When done, Austin blanked out.  What happened after he couldn’t recall--not at all.

A Questful Visionary
	“Sweatlodge?”  then, “What’s it for?”
	“Purifying your body so what you hunt don’t smell you.”
	Austin was curious about Indian life, he knew basically what was depicted on TV was Hollywood bullshit.  He liked it just the same, though.
	But it differed big time to what REAL Indian life was.  Snow explained that he was going on a big hunt, it was an honor to be invited and he had been helping constructing a sweat lodge--which was why he had been a no-show the last couple of days.
	“Would you like to come?” Snow asked.
	Austin smiled, Snow was a true friend.
	Of course, it would have to be cleared by Snow’s grandfather, Chief Standing Bear.  
	Being nervous was an understatement--frightened out of his wits was more like it.  Around him everywhere Indians.  Lots and lots of Indians, mostly Males, “Bucks”, and one weird-oh who walked backwards, talked backwards, bathed backwards (used sand first and then water) and rode his horse bareback backwards.  
	“Who’s that?” asked Austin.
	“He-who-is-ate-up-with-the-dumb-ass.” replied Snow.
	All the Indians had cool names, names of animals (Standing Bear, Walking Deer, Squeaking Mouse, Eagle Eye, and Limping Lizard.)  Many of the “bucks” were naked, which didn’t bother Austin all that much--much.  Vividly, though, he recalled being able to peer into some of the teepees and see hot non-missionary action taking place--a “doe” on her hands and knees--face down, ass up, being ram rodded by a “buck”.
	There weren’t a lot of “kids” about, none Austin’s age anyways.
	“You have a good heart,” said Standing Bear, “I can see it.” which slightly alarmed young Austin--his heart, he could see it?  Austin looked to where he figured his “heart” was.  Standing Bear and some of the other Indians giggled, some snickered.
	Standing Bear rapped the back of his hand against Austin’s chest, he smiled and Austin saw what looked like a “twinkle” gleam in the old Indian’s eyes.  How exactly old he was Austin didn’t know, but old.  His skin was like leather, lots of wrinkles.  His once long sleek black hair was solid gray and hung clear down to his waist.
	The smell of whiskey was on his breath, too.
	He spoke in the native tongue, Snow leaned down to convert the language for Austin.
	“Grandfather says your heart is good, you can join us on the hunt, you can join us in the sweat lodge, but first…” Austin’s mind whirred in a blur--the sweat lodge he still didn’t fully understand.  He was barely nine years old and his Pa wouldn’t even let him LOOK at a gun--here Snow and his fellow “warriors” were going to let him in on a hunt!
	Of course, it was probably without a rifle or shotgun but a Bow with Arrows.  But still, it was a weapon and would not approve.  So, of course, his Pa would not know about it.
	But what about the rest?  Snow was saying something about a “vision” a “vision quest.”
	Most up and coming warriors going on a vision quest did so with the quest lasting up to four days alone in the wilderness.  This was tradition.  For young Austin, he would not be “alone” and would not spend four days in the wilderness.
	Exactly how much time he DID spend in the wilderness he couldn’t remember.  A lot of what happened he couldn’t remember.  He remembered, though--standing naked before a great fire; his body was painted and there were feathers in his hair.  He remembered that he didn’t feel anything special or spectacular--anything of the sort.  There were mixed images with no sense of balance or order.  It was dark, there was a fire (bon type) and creatures of the night that chirped, squawked, barked, farted, and made other sounds.
	Austin suddenly looked right to the eyes of an owl.
	Then there was a chipmunk in the hollow of a tree near the owl.
	Below was a marmot, another rodent squatted nearby sniffing the air, a rat.  There were others; bats, frogs,  insects.  There was the gentle wind, a scent of wildflowers and--and--and…
	And?
	He couldn’t remember.
	He saw the afore mentioned animals, heard their speak, and he believed he also could “smell” them, their individual scent.  It was strange.  Very strange.  What else happened he couldn’t recall.
	His next recollection was being naked in the sweat lodge.  A sweat lodge was of a construct being made of limbs, leaves, thatch, whatever to construct a “dome”.  a sealed dome with a single entrance flap and a small flap in the apex of the dome.  On the floor’s center was a small pit of which scorching hot rocks were piled.  A cup of water was then poured onto the rocks thusly creating steam that filled the interior of the dome--and then thusly created great quantities of sweat from the naked bodies of the potential warriors within laying on the floor.
	What happened then--during and after, once more Austin was unable to fathom, comprehend and/or conjure.  He didn’t remember.  And then there were things he didn’t want to remember.  There were things he remembered that were confusing--or fearful.
	Twitching noses.  Small beady eyes of pure black voids.  Dark fur, splotchy fur of brown and black and white.  Scurrying-scurrying always scurrying.  The rats.  The rats.  The rats!
	They roamed in a loose groups, only social by a quasi kindred spirit that linked them.  They swarmed in droves, scampering aloof on rafters, in sewers, long alleyways and gutters.  The rats.  The rats.  The rats!
	Untamed, unmasked, they formed a union where none were stronger.  Their sheer numbers swelled their otherwise smallish bodies.  Their sheer guile and utter sneakiness gave them the honor of being feared--no, loathed by all humans.  The rats.  The rats.  The rats!
	But not all humankind feared them.  Some studied them.  Some named them.  Some followed them.  Some humankind admired them, wrote bits of poetry and staged plays about them.  Some humankind enjoyed their company and kept them as personal pets.  Some humankind, though, were destined to rally the creatures of the night.  A new destiny there was for the scurrying vermin, a king there would be to lead the horde.
	The rats--the rats--the rats are coming!

	He knew the deeper he crawled, the worse it would be for him if he had to back up.  Panic began to seethe within him, it was a snake hole, small and cramped and damn dark.  Roots of various sizes caused him great delays as he had to paw his way either around them or thru them.  The dirt was mostly hard packed and didn’t cave in on him as he traveled.  Somewhere it had to end, he though--and hoped.  Somewhere there was Forrest, somewhere…
	He kept crawling, pausing now and then to swipe away the bugs migrating thru his hair and virtually all over his body.  Dirt, too, got into his ears and eyes and mouth.  While paused, his mind once more returned to just those couple-three years before…

	His parents were bickering and the word was they were possibly going to divorce.  He loved his mother and tolerated his father.  But his mother was basket case and always fouled everything up.  Forgetting his birthday, forgetting to pick him up after practice, going to an important school meeting and/or function, getting him proper gym clothes, something.  His dad--his dad was a Class A asshole.  A jerk.  But he went to his games and paid the bills of the house.  
	Who would he live with?  Tough choice.  Tough choice.
	He wished he could stay with Snow and his family, to live on the reservation would be cool!  He so thought.  He didn’t know rightly for sure, but it beat being chastised, bitched at, cussed, and beaten.
	Laying in the grass of the early morning watching Rome munch the bananas young Austin cared less about his parents and the predicament they were putting him in.  Lots of kids were with one parent or another, Austin just figured eventually his folks would pull their heads out of their ass and straighten up.  He guessed wrong.
	Suddenly, a hand once more grabbed him by the back of his pants, hoisting him up out of the grass he had been hiding in.  Farmer Cox.  The man quickly hustled Austin into his house, throwing him into the unkempt bedroom.  Too frightened was Austin to do much but cower.  Cox pulled off his belt and looped it, “Take yer clothes off, boy.” seethed the wicked man.
	“Fuck you!” shouted Austin and he made a daring dash.  There was one window in the dingy messed up room, Austin made for it but wasn’t as quick as was Farmer Cox who smacked the youngster backwards, sending him flying and toppling over a nightstand and onto the old rickety spring/iron bed.
	Cox quickly gabbed up Austin’s ankles, locking them together.  He then let sail the looped belt, spanking Austin’s ass and back of the legs as hard as he might.
	Austin thrashed madly to no avail and at length was lain on his stomach, undoing his pants.  Cox tugged the jeans down and the underwear, too.  Vaguely could Austin recall what happened nextly--but he knew he had been raped, sodomized by the sadistic twisted pig farmer.
	Was it once, twice, three times?  Austin couldn’t recall, but--he DID recall while being fucked in the ass looking up to an exposed rafter and seeing a mouse.  No, not a mouse--a rat.  A rat!  Farmer Cox shoved his massive manhood roughly into Austin’s shit hole, Austin clutched the nappy bed covers clinging on for dear life, somehow putting out of his mind the incredible torment his asshole was feeling.  He stared up to the rat, he then saw that there were two.  
	Then there were four.
	The four became six, the six became nine, and …
	And soon all the rafters exposed in the bedroom had rats aplenty!
	All the rats stared down, twitching their noses and whiskers, some seemingly washing their noses with their small pinkish paws.
	“Help me.” whispered Austin.  He didn’t know if he had exactly spoken the words aloud or what, but suddenly--dozens of farm rats dropped down from the rafters and swarmed up from the flooring and onto the bed.  None came to swarm onto the naked Austin but completely converged onto the farmer.
	Frantically he freaked out and danced madly about the cluttered room, slinging rats off as he did so.  It was of no use, though, the rats completely concealed the man; they bit into his flesh and totally ripped off his manhood and testicles.
	Screaming the farmer recklessly bashed his way thru his disheveled home and outside.  Austin followed, pulling on his clothes and watching as the farmer got his…
	It was out to the pigs Cox went tumbling and falling, slinging rats off of him as he went and as he could.  But as soon as he flung a few rats off, more would come and latch onto him.
	At length the man crashed thru the so-so corral containing Rome to 500 pound prize porker.  Rome grunted, shit, twitched his curly tail and trounced on the chest of Farmer Cox--and then promptly began eating him.
	Austin ran.  He ran to the creek where he spent several hours before clothing himself and going out the other end of the culvert, along side the opposite side of the road and home.  Once home his parents informed him that they were NOT getting a divorce but moving to the desert.
	The horrible news of Farmer Cox’s untimely death filled the small community of Rattersburg, there were no signs of “rats”, it appeared as though Cox had simply crashed thru his fence drunk off his ass and his prize hog ate him.  Well, not really “ate” him all up, but there was very little of the pig farmer left to be recognized.
	After that, nothing.  Nothing more special that Austin could recall.  His parents seemed to patch things up, his dad became less of an asshole and just a jerk.  The family moved to the desert where Austin met up with a few cousins and eventually Forrest.
	Forrest.
	Austin continued his endeavors to reach his friend--eventually suddenly breaking through a cave wall of dirt and tumbling out into a cave room.  He landed with a thump and a thud and for some minutes lay trying to get his breath back.
	When he did, despite the darkness and gloom of the deep underground cavern, Austin could see.  And he could see on dirt ledges and peering up from dirt mounds and exposed tree roots--rats!
Revelation 101
	“Whattya think it means?”
	“Beats the hell out of me.” then, “I’m guessing a storm, of some kind.”  good guess.  And a hopeful one, too.
	Above the skies of usual azure blue had turned a violent boiling green.  Great streaks of brilliant green lightning exploded in long trails in and about the boiling clouds.  The air all about the crew on the ground was electrified.  There was little wind, however.
	“I hate this place.” remarked Jake.
	Eric nodded in concurrence; minotaurs, rat creatures, creepy Creeps, and lost from those they loved.  It was too much, just too fucking much.  The newbies, Kam and the others, were having difficult time adjusting themselves--the story Eric and Jake relayed to them was not too pleasing.  With little in the way of suitable weaponry to defend themselves against the likes of the minotaurs and Creeps--the situation for the humankind in the New World was dire. 
	The groups mingled (and I do mean mingled) and came together (and I do mean “came together”) and joined as one.  Eric and Jake longing for the sight of their Victorian home by the sea.  They missed their family, their serene way of life.  Jake wondered about Merrill--had she rallied the others to help rescue her kindred from that unknown place she called Mossflower?  Had the pirates come to their shore?
	It was too much to worry about and was best to let go and listen to the rest of Kam’s story.

Naughty is as Naughty Does
	Youngster Ashley was brought into play, brought into view.  She was visibly frightened and rightly so.  She was also greatly confused.  She was clothed, but not for long.  Gil, her father, brought her to where her suspended mother could see and be further horrified.  
	Gil Carrow knelt beside his young eight year old daughter, holding her body close to him.  Cum still oozed out of Vanessa’s asshole and her fresh spanked ass still was a nice shade of red.  The pre-teen clenched and pushed the daddy ooze out of her hole.  She still whimpered and sobbed and her daddy watched her mother as she basically began to lose it more than she had at first.
	Even more so when Gil began sliding down Ashley’s pants.
	“No, Gil, please!” begged Mary.  She thrashed about her bindings but to no avail.  She wailed and pleaded, her bound wrists and ankles were rubbed raw, her body sagged but was still feet from the cobblestoned floor.
	Gil rubbed his bare hand onto his young daughter’s bare ass, parting the cheek and slowly bending the child over.  Spreading the cheeks and slowly inserted a finger into the hole demonstrating how easily it went--thusly showing that the young girl’s hole was not virginal.
	On her hands and knees Ashley went, she sobbed but was otherwise quiet and contained.  She was placed just mere feet from her suspended in the air mother.  Gil stroked his manly daddy dick, squeezed his balls and began rubbing his prick all over Ashley’s ass.
	“No, Gil, please!” his wife, Mary, begged.
	“It’s alright, we’ve done it before--lots of times!” he smiled and then began inching himself into the eight year old’s asshole.  
	Ashley grunted and made other noises as her father’s manly manhood entered her asshole.  But it wasn’t the first time and after a bit of time he was in--half way.  Spreading the child’s cheeks far apart he began to pump, positioning himself and Ashley so as the girl’s mother could see.  
	Mary hung her head--as much as she could as the chin strap supporting her head preventing much drooping.  She shook her head and wept; Gil pumped and pumped his youngest child, pulling out and humping the cheeks, dragging his hardness against the child’s cunny before restuffing himself back into her asshole.
	At length the horrid father not to be father-of-the-year came.  It torrents.  Floods of cum streamed into Ashley’s chute and then spewed out as her father withdrew his cum squirter.  He smoothed his hands over his daughter’s ass, stuffing her asshole with his finger--working it in.  his cock limped out but still oozed cum.  Slowly he turned his sobbing child over and laid her out on her backside, opened her legs and went down on her.
	Mary began to retch and gag.
	Gil ran his tongue up and down his child’s cunt, licking and driving his daddy tongue into her.  Ashley twisted about but otherwise did not fight him.  Gil drive his tongue into her cunny as well as his thumb up into her gooied asshole.  At length he positioned himself between her, laying his wicked cock against her love entrance and began to hump.
	Mary finally began to hurl.
	Gil smiled down to his child, there was more to do--much more.
	Kam and his bud Sitting Eagle went on.
	In the adjoining room of interest--the strange weird African-American (MJ) lay on the bed with a young black child of about 10 years on him.  Both were nude and cum like a river sprang out of the young boy’s asshole.  MJ’s cock oozed rivers of cum itself as it slowly became flaccid.  MJ rubbed his hands over the nude boy laying on him, mostly the boy’s ass.
	
	Kam enjoyed his stay, even got to meet Gill Carrow and personally meet Gil’s subdued family.  His wife had completely lost her mind, she shook and trembled and babbled, flinging her head all about at the horrors her husband had done before her.  Other than eleven year old Vanessa and eight year old Ashley; there, too, was sixteen year old Janne and married twenty-one year old Chrissy.
	For further help in aiding Mary Carrow’s loss of her mind, Janne was seen pitched over a crude hitching post.  Her legs splayed out and secured at the ankles to hooks in the cobblestoned floor.  Her wrists, on the other side of the post stretching her out to a very uncomfortable position.  Her daddy, Gil Carrow, fondled her young teenage ass, smacking it a time or two before coming up with not a belt but a cane.
	It was a typical straight sturdy cane pole, bamboo, seasoned with a curing agent to prevent it from breaking.  Janne was dressed fully, tight jeans and a tight blouse.  The cane walloped her ass with a mighty hard smack that sent jolts to everyone present--even Kam.
	Janne was at a loss for screaming or crying out as the cane smacked her.  She clenched and began furiously thrashing about on the hitching post, her father let her have another--to the back of the legs.  
	Kam came around to the thrashing head of the middle aged teen, he ran his hands thru her strawberry blond hair with an almost loving manner--before positioning himself to whereas he could insert his very gamey cock.  Then her father walloped her ass again.
	Janne’s mouth filled with dick prevented her from screaming out--it also gave the dick’s owner a new thrill.  He had no fear (little fear) of being bitten, he held her head back and enjoyed himself.
	Gil brought the cane lashing to her legs, thighs, and upwards vertically so as the cane would smack the crack of her ass and cunny.  Janne freaked the fuck out.  The skin about her wrists and ankles was rubbed raw almost instantly.  Gil walloped her again the same way and Kam was getting off getting off in her mouth.
	Soon Gil undone his teenage daughter’s jeans and worked them down.  With her legs spread out so, the jeans could only be managed to her knees.  That was okay--for now.  The girl’s mother had just about totally lost it.  She languished where she was suspended, weeping, still retching, nearly broken.
	Kam ejaculated into Janne’s mouth; pulling out he rubbed his schlong all over her once very pretty face--skull fucking her to his delight while her father brought the cane across her pert little tight ass again and again and again.  He then moved the panties into the crack of her ass, revealing the bright red flesh to her mother.  There were welts and streaks of blood and serious bruising.
	Gil, though, was not finished.
	To the bare skin he brought the cane--as hard as he possibly could to the girl’s ass flesh, then up the crack, then across the back of the legs.  Janne did a little dance as she was spanked, her words were unintelligible and she choked on the cum swimming in her mouth.
	Gil stopped whipping his child with the cane--and eased one end of it into her gory hole.  To Janne she didn’t seem to notice, or care--her ass and legs overwhelmingly superceded anything else done to her.  The cane pole went in an inch, two inches, three inches, and then …
	Gil removed it and stuffed his daughter’s corn pipe with his cock.  Hands on her hips he rocked dramatically and fully into her ass going for broke as fast as he possibly could.  Kam leaned back against the stone wall and watched as the frantic girl frantically freaked out.
	Gil pumped relentlessly--he had boned her up the butt many times before, like Vanessa and Ashley--she had blocked the abuse from her mind.  Like Vanessa, Janne gave him hand jobs when they were alone, she fondled his balls and opened her legs to let him lick her cunny.  It made her feel good and it was in lieu of getting a beating.  When she had been younger, there was no option of “whack daddy off, suck daddy’s cock, open your legs for daddy’s tongue” it was across the bed, up against the toilet, pants and underwear done and “receive” the punishment.  After a good lashing of the belt and Janne was tormented beyond belief--Gil stuffed her asshole with his manhood claiming to her that “it wasn’t sex if it was done up the ass.”
	He was just getting hand jobs from his youngest, Ashley, when Vanessa ratted him out and turned their world upside down.  It worked out in the end, though.  Sorta.  Depends upon how you look at it--if your suspended up from a floor spread eagled naked watching your family being sexualized by their own father--well, then it probably is that your world is fucked up world for sure.
	Kam stepped back up to the tormented Janne, he pressed his cock against her face as the time was near for her father fucking her asshole to cum.  For Janne, she felt or received no pleasure from being reamed.  Her father’s balls slapped hard in the rhythm of the illicit sex act, he strained and then pumped vigorously until the hellish deed was done.
	He gave a mighty thrust to ejaculate all the love cream from his cock, then pulled out to smear the remainder onto her still searing (and bleeding) ass.  Gil stepped aside and out from the girl’s clothes still at her knees, he pried the cheeks open so as the girl’s mother could see.
	Mary’s eyes were glazed over, she mumbled and hang virtually limp in her suspension.  Gil snickered and watched Janne squeeze out the cum from her puckered hole.

	And then there was Chrissy.
	Chrissy (Christina) was married, she was twenty-one and had had a baby that was 6 months.  When sister Vanessa brought charges of incest and abuse against her father, Chrissy didn’t believe her.  As the subsequent investigation went on, Chrissy began to have doubts--repressed memories came to her and she had been on the verge of agreeing with her sibling and helping her when it began to fall apart and discovered Vanessa had a vendetta against their father--punishment back to him for spanking her and grounding her causing her to miss a party.  Vanessa was an avid liar and made up horrendous stories to keep her ass from being spanked.
	The breakdown of Vanessa’s story caused doubts in Chrissy--she didn’t know what to believe and wondered if she herself was being sodomized or not.
	To late to fully ascertain the diabolical naughtiness of their dad, they had been drugged and then virtually kidnapped--to awaken in a new naughtiness unknown.
	Chrissy lay on a wooden table--not very wide and just at six feet long.  She was clothed.  Her hands were bound by handcuffs and the cuffs were connected by another set to the iron runner/support bar of the table.  It caused some anguish and discomfort for Chrissy, her arms above her head and all, stretched out for hours and hours.  She was very well aware of what her father had done and was doing.  Somehow, though, she was managing to maintain herself and not to lose it like her poor mother had done so already.
	Chrissy was NOT aware that her mother was present or suspended in the air like she was.  Chrissy could only see what had happened to Vanessa and Janne.  She figured what had happened to Ashley.  She knew what was going to happen to her…
	“You son-of-a-bitch!” Chrissy bitched at him as he came up to the table.  A lantern hung for light in a recessed hole of the wall, Gil pulled it out more to shed more light on the horrid situation.  His cock leaked, it was limped out and was shagged out.  Chrissy had pissed in her pants and was pinching back the need to shit.  Gil looked over his struggling child, smiled and began running his hands on her.
	“Don’t fucking touch me you fucking bastard!” Chrissy seethed.
	Gil paid her no mind.  She was of little threat.  Her ankles, too, were cuffed together with another set cuffed to another iron bar-support of the table.  Chrissy seethed, spit at her father and frantically thrashed her body about.  It did no good and Gil simply waited.
	Kam meanwhile had little Ashley with him, he was on his knees and the young eight year old against him.  Her asshole still hurt dramatically, Kam ran his hands up and down the child’s body, lightly fingering her pussy and getting to the point of whereas…
	“Get off me!” screamed Chrissy.  Her father had climbed up onto the table, settling on her with his manhood pressed against her crotch.
	“You fucker!”
	Gil smiled, then hauled back and slapped her face.
	“Settle down, missy, or you’ll regret it.”
	“FUCK YOU!” screamed in tears Chrissy.
	Gil ripped the light blue cowboy style shirt she was wearing, Chrissy thrashed about madly trying to buck her father off.  Gil grabbed the breasts and squeezed them until she stopped.  The bra had a snap in the front other than the back.  Gil undone it and freed the woman’s 36Bs.  Chrissy broke down and began to sob.  Gil scrunched down and began to nosh…

*

	“No, no--it hurts!  It hurts!”
	“Shhhhh…” he whispered gently.  
	Ashley whimpered more, then held her breath as her young cunny was breached.  Her pretty blue eyes widened in somewhat awe and fear as Kam’s cock made vaginal entry.  Dire determination had it that young Ashley was going to get fucked.  Already she had suckled on Kam’s cock and then his hairy balls.  She then stroked his cock and pressed it herself against her cunny.  She received his tongue into her mouth and his fingers into her pussy and sore asshole.  Receiving his cock into her pussy was something else, though.
	Ashley made no noises as Kam’s manly prong began to inch into her too young to fuck cunny.  The head disappeared into the entrance, the child’s eyes bulged as her delicate bud was busted and she was fully raped.
	Kam was gentle with her, but determined to make entry, her body was small and her cunny not receptive to his big dick.  But determination made it that the head of his schlong and two inches of shaft was in.  he pumped and pumped, pulled out and humped on the girl’s snatch before re-stuffing into her for another delightful (yet painful) fuck.
	No cum, but he was close.  He laid his prick against the soft skin of the child’s cunny and humped until he COULD cum, sending a one shot of jiz up the girl’s body.  Kam let out a mighty “AHHHHHH” and then began a steady stream of urination.
	Ashley’s young cunny was broken, there wasn’t a lot of blood from the hellish deed, but …
	Kam sat up and pulled the young’un to him, cupping her ass and driving his tongue back into her mouth.  Her mother just feet away had passed out.  On the table, Gil had pushed his first born daughter’s pants down along with her panties.  He lay on her again humping against her pussy.  Chrissy continued to try and rebuke him but it did no good.
	Requiring a drink (of some kind) he scooped the child up and carried her out of the room.  He’d be back later.  Ashley, strangely, hugged him, her arms about his neck.  Kam peeked into the adjoining room, the one with MJ.  He had a new prize, stuffing his long black schlong into a white boy about 12 yrs. young or so while that boy and another lad about ten or so traded cock spit--69ing in other words.
	Kam shuttled down the hallway to a communal bathroom.  Sitting Ashley on a counter Kam washed her down as well as his own nappy wares.  Another customer of Chief Sitting Eagle’s underground cavern of illicit bliss came in, carrying a four year old girl.
	The man smiled and entered one of the stalls, no door.  The man sat on the pot, farted, and began to poop.  The little girl was positioned on his lap facing him.  She began to pee.  Whether or not the girl was “his” or not was not clear or known.  Kam finished cleaning up himself and Ashley and then went on to the snack room.

	Chrissy grunted, groaned, and moaned as here father’s manly cock stuffed her pussy furiously.  He made no bones about being gentle and slammed himself into his first born repeatedly with much ado about vigor and vim.  Chrissy twisted her body about wildly on the table but being secured as she was she had little choice but to except her fate.
	Gil languished a bit after his fuck of his first born--his cock still surging within her.  Chrissy wept uncontrollably, raped by her own father; it was more than she could bare.  Being reamed in the ass had been one thing and she had somehow managed to block it out--but to be fucked--to be out and out raped by him was quite another.
	Slowly Gil pulled out of her sopping cunt and straddled her waist; his hands traveled all over her heavily breathing body layered in sweat.  Cum still oozed from his cock, his cock pulsed and was just about fucked out.
	Up Chrissy’s heaving body Gil slid himself, nestling his prick between her breasts.  Gently he cuffed her face, Chrissy wept and tried to rebuke his tenderness.  She cussed him again, Gil smiled and pushed her young womanly breasts over his aching pole.
	Slowly he moved up to where he ran his fingers thru her hair, and then took hold of her head, bringing her head to him.
	“Suck, Daddy, Chrissy, suck me like you used to…”
	Chrissy thrashed her head about, mouth closed tight, lips pursed.  It did little for her forceful father who ultimately demanded that she suck him.
	Kam returned at that time, depositing the freshly fucked Ashley.  Cum dripped from his cock, Ashley’s cunt was laden with his love cream, she would be sore for days.  On the table, Chrissy choked as her mouth was filled to the max by her father’s cock.  Kam stepped up to Vanessa who was still sprawled out over an ottoman, her darling young eleven year old ass still a burnt shade of red--and still enticing.
	Gobs of cum still adorned the girl’s hole.  Kam stuffed the girl’s hole with his finger, pressing his thumb to her cunny.  Vanessa turned her head to see what was who, unknown really if she knew--mostly her long reddish brown hair hung into her face, most of which was pasted there by her sweat.  
	Kam turned the ottoman so as the girl could see her sister and father on the table, the ottoman had been positioned so as Van’s ass action from her father could be seen by her mother--but the mother was “unconscious”.  Kam pulled the long hair of the girl up, thusly pulling up the girl’s head.  She saw in all horror Chrissy secured to the table with their father on her, sucking him.
	As Vanessa freaked out and broke down, Kam stuffed her asshole.

**

Just desserts 
	One more room
	Chief Sitting Eagle took a long draw on the pipe, Kam tugged on the pipe once offered to him; a mix of peyote, hemp, hashish, and horseshit.  It was hard to fake it but Kam did the best he could.  ’no fucking wonder the Indians lost…’  the stench of the whacky tabaccy stung his eyes and that helped to water them.  The hour was late, his time short, his cock sore.  All in all it had been a could visit.  The Chief was a good friend of Kam’s, they traded “cargo” and enjoyed the fruits of their endeavors.
	 “I have a favor to ask.” the Chief said.
	Kam shrugged, “Sure.”
	The Chief with glazed over eyes took another long draw on his pipe and smiled.  
	Out to another section of the underground cavern of horror along a narrow ledge to a deeper area.  The cavern was wondrous with its geo-rocks glistening different colors of brilliance.  There were some “holes” along the edges of the ledge and out in the cavern itself that were said to be “bottomless.”
	Another set of “rooms” there were where “special” cargo had been stowed for special treatment or introduction to a new way of life.  Of particular interest was a one Glorina Derella.  She was a bossy-busybody her meddled into the affairs of others, under the guise of being a top notch attorney.  
	She specialized in persecuting child molesters, wife beaters, and any sex crimes whatsoever as well as cases involving civil rights, famous to infamous people, whistle blowers, underdogs, little people (not so famous) and everyone else.  
	Glorina took on high profile cases that would have otherwise been low key and bolstered them to the spotlight so everyone could share.  She was a top notch lawyer, but one who would do whatever it took to get her face and message on any daytime show and/or tv news show to satisfy her ego.  She actually cared very little for who ever she was defending or what her message was about.  According to Kam, she couldn’t Talk and Make Sense at the same time!  
	Glorina Derella described HERSELF as a high profile attorney for the nation.  To Kam, he just thought that she meant that her “high profile” status meant that she could do whatever to get on as many television talk shows as she could with lesser known victims of lesser known crimes.  She took on the case of a young woman who had been the “mistress” of a sensationalized murder case--the young woman it was discovered had nude photos of herself on a computer.  (she was also unaware that her lover was married.)
	Derella further demonstrated to Kam that anyone could call themselves an attorney--but it didn’t necessarily mean they were a good one, unless you gauged how good an attorney was by how well they ran their mouth!
	She was a self-proclaimed advocate of some defense league proclaiming the sole defense of woman and education and other bullcrap.  She made claims of extraordinary measures of her profession (an attorney or bullshit artist--it wasn’t too clear which.)  She had awards of this and that boosting her achievements--mostly as a buttinski supreme.
	Glorina Derella really-really-really hated and despised child molesters.  Even casual ones.  She had a penchant for persecuting those who defiled children of any age, defiled a woman of any age, discriminated against a woman (of any age), and was better off than any woman (of any age.)  Glorina Derella was a burr in the side of mankind.  
	Finally, she had been contained.
	And she wasn’t happy about it.
	Usually she was clad in a smart very expensive woman’s business suit.  Her hair was styled in a style no other woman wanted.  Stern features, long limbs, she stood just a cunt hair under being six foot tall--but a foot of that was the 1950s bun style.  
	Usually Glorina Derella was bossy, demanding, condescending, pretentious and a bitch.  If she didn’t get her way right off, she went to the media to “spread the word”.  She usually got the public’s side on her side and her ego soared.  She was some woman.
	And currently, she was fit to be tied.  Well, she was.  Her multi-hundred dollar woman’s business suit was in shreds.  Her under clothing was also shredded.  She herself was suspended with her arms and legs hogtied behind her, her knees were two feet from the smooth stoned floor.  She was NOT happy at her distressful situation.  
	Her voice was raw and hoarse from all the demanding she had made.  Screaming and ranting and demanding repeatedly since she had “come around” and found herself in her most unnatural predicament.  The Chief told Kam that she had been “touched” by some of his Braves, spanked and fucked silly and she was STILL not broken.  The old narly Chief had another underground community a few hours south run by a cousin of his.  Sitting Eagle wanted Kam to take Derella on a little ride.

	At the door to Kam’s ride, Glorina came “awake” and became something of a problem.  While a small handful of braves held the thrashing woman--Kam introduced the attorney bitch to the Convincer--his cattle prod.  Derella fidgeted and twitched and became less a problem being brought into the mega RV.  She was “touched” again between the legs with another to her 36C titties to get the point across.
	Surprisingly, the woman still had some gumph about her as she was placed on the bed.  Kam turned her over, face down--ass up.  A leash about her neck was tightened and then secured to the bed.  Rope from her arms went outward and secured to the bed.  Another rope went about her secured ankles and was--secured to the bed.
	Glorina had no idea how much more horror she was in…

Ground Rules
	Miles down the road and even in another state, Kam pulled his mega machine off the road and up a small dirt road.  It was rough and riddled with rivets.  It eventually began to climb up into some very wooded and rugged mountains to a point whereas the massive RV barely could negotiate the few turns.  Luckily, however, there was a remote (very remote) campground.
	The 40 foot RV just barely managed to fit.
	No one else was at the campground.
	Cheryl helped with the making of a dinner, Rollo got let out for a romp in the woods; the kids, Mitch-Beth-Kellie got to go out, too.  They had dog collars about their necks, electronic collars.  If they strayed too far from the RV and its in-house transceiver--they would be shocked unmercifully.
	“Don’t stray into the woods.”
	“Don’t go further than the twenty feet in any direction.”
	“Come back immediately when I tell you.”
	“Beth, Kellie, you two suck Mitch--25 times each.”
	“Mitch, you lick each girl’s pussy twenty-five times each.”
	Ground rules.  The kids were used to the abductor’s  “ground rules” and they would honor them for they had learned that it was better to obey the monster bastard kidnapping son-of-a-bitch than not.
	Glorina had a long way to go to learn and follow her ground rules.  But by then--she would either be dead, or traded off to Chief Sitting Eagle’s cousin.
	Where the cousin dwelled was another state away, and with Kam not keen on taking the direct route, interstates and the like, the destination arrival time would be longer with the taking of alternate routes to avoid suspicion and authorities on all levels.
	Cheryl made mac & cheese, a stable.  There, too, though, was a hamburger patty mixed with cheese, salsa, and other flavorings.  Kam stepped up behind Cheryl, she was coming around nicely--but Kam knew not to trust her, he trusted no one--but Rollo and himself.  (and if there was a bitch in heat anywhere in the vicinity of Rollo--fuck it, Kam was on his own!)
	To Cheryl’s teenage breasts Kam fondled--fondle-fondle-fondle.  Down to her cunny to finger--finger-finger-finger.  His manhood angled down between her ass cheeks.  Cheryl spread her legs and leaned over the sink where she was prepping the meat.  Cheryl, too, like the other kids, wore the special doggie collar.  Kam trusted no one.  No one.
	Kam’s interest was not in Cheryl--not at the moment.  He fingered and fondled and then let her continue her work.  He himself moved down to the rear bedroom where a frustrated Glorina Derella fussed about the bed.  She lay on one side and had managed to work the blindfold up freeing her eyes.
	“You son-of-a-bitch,” she seethed, “do you fuck--” 
	Kam pressed the handy-dandy cattle prod against her thigh and she freaked out.  Peeing and clenching and twitching.
	“We have to understand some ground rules here,” Kam said with a slight air of snootiness.
	“Number one is, “Don’t PISS me off.  Ever.” he smiled and watched the woman as she slowly returned to normal.  As Glorina lay panting and heaving and calming down from the 9,000 volts of convincing, Kam pressed the “convincing” tip of the prod to her clenching piss wet cunny.
	Violently Glorina thrashed her body in an attempt to “push away” the prod.  Not so violently her tormentor smacked her thigh with the cattle prod and released its energy.
	Glorina squealed and twitched--for a long time.

	From the RV, Kam watched somewhat on the sly as Beth complied with the “ground rules”; on her knees she completely devoured Mitch’s dick.  Her young hands clutched the boy’s bare ass, she shook her head side to side as she sucked; Mitch rocked himself back and forth as the BJ was wondrous.
	Sitting on a rock nearby, Kellie Yu fingered her cunny.  Mitch’s cum drying on her chin and chest.  The sun was setting, the breezes blowing, and Mitch was cumming, again.  As a pro he placed a hand onto the back of Beth’s head and worked it.  Beth sucked harder and harder until once more the boy was cumming off.
	Not a lot of jiz was expelled, one big jolt and that was it.  Mitch continued pumping into the ten year old’s mouth until his puddling pudded out.  Beth wiped her chin, and apparently she swallowed, too.  
	Kam called the kids in for the evening meal, Glorina had finally settled down from twitching, she languished on the soiled bed trying to come to grips with her new horror.

*

	Cheryl flinched as the strap dramatically smacked the skin.  Mitch held Kellie on his bare lap, they both flinched, too.  Beth held herself snuggled up between the others as repeatedly and very harshly the newest member of the RV was beaten.
	When the ass was puce, the strapping ceased.  Kam placed the tip of his hard cock to the flinching-twitching woman’s corn hole and proceeded to make anal entry--when a thunderous familiar throp-throp-throp interrupted procedure.
	Outside the area was illuminated with a brilliant light, a helicopter buzzed about the tree tops with a Night Sun spotlight.  
	“All persons in the RV, please come out to be identified.” boomed a voice thru the choppers external com speaker.
	“We know there are six persons within the RV,” continued the booming voice, “all sic of you will exit the RV and stand to be identified.”
	“This is the United Federal of Police Enforcement,” continued the booming voice some more--UFPE had been established at the height of the insanity plaguing the nation--mostly in the form of being supreme in the powers of not requiring police paperwork to check out suspicious goings on.  The didn’t need a warrant to conduct searches or seizures.  The Land of the Free had become too chaotic with Mind Altering devices rampant and out of control…
	Kam deduced that the chopper had heat sensors thusly detecting himself, Cheryl, Beth, Kellie, Mitch, and Glorina.  
	“Go outside.” Kam told his crew, save for Glorina who was still secured to the bed.  The kids put on long tee shirts and robes and stepped out, shielding their eyes from the bright spot light.  Kam quickly hustled himself under the bed and into a special cubby hole.  He didn’t have a lot of time as he knew the crew of the chopper could see his movements.
	“Occupants in the rear of the RV, please step outside…” or else.
	Cheryl stood nervously, clenching all over.  Mitch to her left, Kellie and Beth to the other side of her.  It was a little chilly outdoors and the helicopter’s blades churning up the air didn’t help--nor the dust it kicked up.
	Suddenly, up from under Cheryl’s legs came something--a long hard cold something.  And then the long cold hard something became incredibly hot.  A modified rocket launcher.  It singed Cheryl’s inner thighs and caused her to jump back over Kam’s head, toppling down his backside.  
	The rocket expelled from the launch tube blasted out with dead-reckoning.  So close was the chopper it did not have sufficient time to react.  The chopper’s pilot managed to turn the four person air vehicle, but the rocket smacked the ass end where the tail began.  The chopper swung around and the tail section hit the tall pines.  Turning to its side out of control, the huge swooshing thropping blades cut into the pines and the helicopter smashed into the ground.
	Whether or not anyone of the crew had been able to get a call out for help or to shout out their location was unknown.  Kam rushed to the crash site, it was on fire.  One crew person hung out of the side window on fire, frantically screaming for help.
	Another had crashed part way thru the front window of the curved windshield, he was cut to ribbons and was being consumed by fire, too.  Another crew person was burned alive in his seat, a pilot.
	Another had been “thrown clear” of the crash, but was in a sorry state of broken bones.  Kam knelt before the person, the flickering fire shed light to the fact that the possible lone survivor of the crash was a woman.
	She was in her late 30s.  Dark haired, 32Bs.  Both arms and legs were messed up with one broken of each.  She was cut up from being thrown thru the front windshield and SLAMMED to the ground as the chopper had crashed two hundred feet straight down thru pine trees.
	“Help me!” the woman said.
	Kam smiled to her and fondled his cock--he was still naked, 
	“This just aint gonna be your night!”

	Cheryl bite her lower lip; she had no fucking clue as to where she was.  She only knew that she was up in the mountains.  She knew that her fucked up tormentor had just shot down a helicopter.  It was a never ending nightmare.
	A few minutes or so after the kidnapper-bastard tormentor had stepped away to the crash site, Cheryl backed up to edge of the campground site the tormenting bastard’s RV was parked.  There was a large log laying to mark the boundary of the site, stepping over it meant breaking a “ground rule.”
	Methodically she rubbed her ass.  Could she take another rash ass busting/beating from the man?  Being raped and fucked up the ass was nothing--it was the beating that was hard.  Plus the man’s punishing electrical objects.
	Pursing her lips she stepped over the log.

	Carol Bathaway could not fathom her fate, her body broken, a possible lung deflated, bleeding internally, broken arm and leg, other arm with a fracture, and instead of rendering help--the man who had come to her undressed her--completely.
	When she fussed the nude man had slapped her face, then continued calmly to remove her clothing.  Carol knew that something about the situation wasn’t kosher when the man HAD come out of the woods with no clothes.  With her underwear removed, the man mounted her and wasted no time in placing his manhood into her.
	Naked, no weapons, no light, no sense of direction, and cold, it wasn’t exactly a GOOD idea--but she had to try.  If she were caught, though--a fate worse than death.  She knew she would be beaten.
	And Rollo.
	She remembered being raped and fucked in the ass by Rollo.  She had had to suck Rollo’s doggie dick, too.
	She was assured that there would be a horrendous ass beating, she was sure that her skin would probably be ripped off.  To simply be fucked, even by Rollo, wouldn’t be enough.  Even the beating probably wouldn’t be enough--Cheryl felt that if caught she would probably more than likely be killed.
	The man had killed before…

	There was too much pain and discomfort for Carol to receive any pleasure--Kam, on the other hand, received copious amounts of pleasure from the sex act.  When done, he pawed and mawed her breasts, then turned her over…
	With no belt, Kam simply smacked her ass as hard as he could with his bare hand.  When his hand was blistering stinging, he pried her cheeks and stuffed her asshole (with his cock).  His poor cock was about shagged out and would need some “time off.”  
	Carol languished and thrashed and whimpered.
	Kam fucked and fucked and smacked her hips until at last he creamed her.  Her fellow companions in the helicopter looked on in crispy dismay.  Kam caressed the woman’s ass, she was not an anal virgin.  Her pussy was snug but she had been dicked a few times.  
	The helicopter made a horrendous dying sound as the rest of the stuck up in the trees tail section slid down.  Small to moderate explosions there were as the fuel tanks erupted.  Kam fretted slightly--had the crew gotten off a message of help?  Had they prior to busting him at the campsite been already parlayed to whoever?  
	Carol with her fractured arm had stretched out her hand and grabbed up a tree’s cast off limb.  With all her might she swung it and smacked her rapist.
	Carol’s “might” was downplayed due to her injuries, her swing barely had any umph at all.  Kam was amused at the woman’s ability, but she was far too much of a mess to mess with, taking her along with the others.  She was damaged and virtually irreparable.  Her fate was sealed.
	The explosions rocked her and she stopped.  Too confused and mostly scared was she to ascertain what the explosions were, panic was consuming her and she had to flee.  Vividly she was aware of the consequences--if she were caught by the madman, she would be killed.  It was a certainty.  He would probably beat him, zap her with those electrical things, rape and sodomize her, beat her lifeless or close to it, and then…
	Another explosion came and Cheryl stepped over another log.
	A low guttural growl stopped her further flight.
	Slowly she turned her head, on the end of the log she was about to step over was Rollo.  
	Cheryl gulped.  “Shit.”
	The dog took a step towards.
	Cheryl clenched and knew she couldn’t out run the mutt, he would tear her to pieces.  She also knew he would probably do that anyways.
	“No, Rollo, no!” 
	It was Beth.  The naked ten year old was with Mitch and Kellie, all had come along following Rollo in pursuit of the fleeing Cheryl.
	Rollo whimpered.  The kids (at least Beth) had command of the animal.  Cheryl closed her eyes.  ‘Shit, piss, fuck, motherfucker.’

	Cold wind rushed up from the gorge, how deep it was Kam didn’t know, but he knew it was rugged with rocks and steepness.  The helicopter continued to sound off with minor explosions but was settling down.  The night was wearing on, he would hate to have to boogie down the mountain in the middle of the friggin night; it was bad enough to trek the mountain road in the day!
	The helicopter crew person, Carol Bathaway, lay at his feet.  She moaned and struggled to maintain consciousness.  Kam scratched his balls, did he hear another throp-throp-throp of a helicopter?  With a mighty shove he pushed the naked crewwoman over the edge.  She made a one pitiful scream as her nude body crashed against the jagged rocks.  Her body then continued down some many feet vanishing in the darkness and gloom.

	Back at the RV he was mildly surprised to see his “family” still standing where they had been left.  He petted Rollo on the head, looked over the kids, there was something up but he didn’t know what.  He nodded to them to get into the RV, they had to go.
	While the RV slowly made its way back down the rough mountain road, Cheryl sat running her finger methodically at the collar about her neck.  Something was wrong.  Sort of.   As she knew it, the collar was electrified and set to where she (and the others) would receive a mighty jolt of PAIN if straying too far from the RV’s transceiver.
	As she knew it.
	As she knew it, she (and the kids) had gone about fifty feet beyond the RV--and hadn’t been zapped.  The collars no longer worked?  She was curious.  Damn curious.  She figured she COULD venture away from the RV without the threat of rolling on the ground in pain.  She COULD--if it weren’t for Rollo and those damn kids!