FB-17

Pony Girl

By

Author Unknown


Chapter 1

	The stars were just beginning to appear in the evening sky.  They came
	out one by one, like shy virgins, and then twinkled magnificently in
	the clear deep dark blue of the early evening.

	Lena hurried from the farmhouse with her milk pails in her hands.  Her
	face was thrust into the dark heavy collar of her coat, and it
	scratched her soft cheek.  The harsh words of her parents, screaming
	at each other, still rang in her ears, and it wasn't until she was
	halfway across the yard that she looked up and saw the bright stars in
	the sky.  Then she stopped and gazed at them, and wished on the first
	one she had seen for a better life.

	She didn't know any other kind of life except that which took place
	within the small confines of the little Iowa farm where she lived with
	her parents.  Life had been better when her brother, Ret, had still
	lived with them.  But he had grown up and gone away run away from the
	life of brutal words and harsh treatment that their father meted out
	to everyone on his land.

	"You screaming bitch, you're no better than a whore!  You deserve to
	be treated like a whore!"

	Lena turned and saw her father's raised arm strike her mother to the
	floor through the lighted kitchen window.  With a sob she turned again
	and hurried to the barn.  She opened the big door and then closed it
	and went down the row of cows to Tess, her favorite cow.

	Tess's udders were heavy tonight and Tess mooed in great pain and
	pleasure as she saw Lena approaching with her milking pails.  Lena had
	barely positioned the pail under Tess and placed her hands on the
	cow's heavy tits when the milk began to come.  Lena deftly directly
	the steaming hot stream into one pail, which quickly filled.  Another
	pail was filled from the same udder, and then two more pails from the
	second udder.

	She talked to the cow as she milked; "That's it Tessie, girl.  Feel
	better now?  Didn't you know I would come out here to milk you?  You
	know I wouldn't forget all about my Tessie." She stroked the cow's hot
	sweaty flanks and the cow turned to look at her with her big, wordless
	cow eyes.  Lena imagined that the animal understood Lena's own pain
	and sorrow.  Every time she witnessed her father striking her mother
	she felt a sickness for which she knew no cure.  She had been
	witnessing such scenes ever since she could remember.  But now, as she
	approached puberty, the cruelty of her father toward her mother seemed
	to affect Lena's sensitive spirit even more.

	She was twelve years old and a very pretty girl, wholesome and healthy
	looking with a good clean, farm girl's complexion: fair with a rosy
	blush on her cheeks from working outside, summer, winter, spring and
	fall.

	She was well developed for a twelve-year-old, as so many farm girls
	are.  Perhaps it was the environment in which she grew up, witnessing
	the farm animals in all the stages of their existence: from birth,
	infancy, mating, adulthood, and death.  They kept pigs and chickens as
	well as cows on their farm, and there were four horses: two old plow
	horses which they had from the days when they had a horse drawn plow,
	and two beautiful stallions which her father kept for his own riding
	pleasure.

	As she went down the line of milkcows, the barn filled with the warm
	soothing smell of fresh hot milk.  Together with the smell of the hay
	in the loft, and the twinkling of the stars through the loft window,
	the barn seemed a world apart from the farmhouse across the yard.  The
	barn was a place where Lena felt she could be alone, and dream.

	Tonight Lena felt she had a lot to dream about.  Tonight was a special
	night.  She had gotten her very first period that very day.  Now she
	was a woman, though the size and shape of her breasts and the
	shrinking of her waist had told her she was a woman for a few months
	now.

	"If I am a woman, now," she thought to herself, "I should have plans.
	I'm not going to spend the rest of my life on this farm, after all."
	Thus ran her thoughts as she stooped under the cows' bellies with her
	pail, and spoke to them soothingly.  She liked the feel of her hands
	against their smooth full udders.  And the hot milk splashing against
	the pail and hitting her hands made her laugh.  She licked her hands
	off when she finished Linda, the brown cow, and moved on to Millie.
	She had special names for each one of them, and she spoke to them and
	told them of her dreams.

	She was just starting on the last of them when she felt a cold blast
	of air at her back and she didn't even have to turn around to sense
	that someone was standing behind her.  Like an animal, the short hairs
	at the back of her neck told her of the man's presence.  She turned
	around.  It was her father.

	She just stared up at him.  He was wearing his riding boots under his
	greatcoat.  Although it was still spring, it was still very cold in
	the little northern Iowa country.  There might still be more snow this
	year.

	"Finish your work, child," Roland Hanson said.

	Lena turned back to Josie, a pretty dappled creature, but she could
	feel her father's eyes on her back and this made her nervous.  She
	gripped the cow's tits clumsily and the milk squirted onto her feet,
	wetting her toes through her torn boots.  Josie sensed Lena's
	nervousness, and let out a pained moo and swatted her tail furiously.
	Lena grasped her harder.

	One hoof shot out and the pail was lying on the barn floor, the new
	milk flowing over the hay.

	"Stupid cunt!" shouted her father.  The milk had splattered him too.

	Lena kept milking furiously.

	She got only half a bucket from Josie and then stood up.

	"Are you going riding, Poppa?" Lena asked.  She was bending over,
	counting the buckets of milk she had filled.  Under her coat, her long
	breasts fell against her wool sweater.

	Her father stood right in front of her and he put his hand under her
	coat and squeezed the pendulous breasts.

	"What are you ...?" Lena began.  She had often been aware of him
	looking at her, these long winter months this year.  But never before
	had he been so bold as to touch her.

	"Shut up, cunt," he said and put his big, strong, knobbed hand over
	her mouth, effectively gagging her.

	"What ...?" she tried to break away from him, but her struggles only
	made him grip her tighter.  As if she was a package he was taking into
	town to mail, he picked her up under his arm and carried her in to a
	corner of the barn.  He threw her down on the hay.  He opened his
	greatcoat and Lena saw that he wore nothing underneath.  She saw his
	huge erect genitalia which he seemed to be parading before her, for he
	just stood over her and let her look for a few moments, while he swung
	his cock a little and let it bounce on top of his balls.

	She had seen the genitalia of all the animals on the farm before, but
	she had never seen the erect genitalia of a man.

	Her father must have weighed 250 pounds.  He was a big man who worked
	hard all year round and the work put muscles all over him, where city
	men have only flab.  He fell on her now.  She smelled the alcohol on
	his breath and tried to turn her face away from the loathsome smell.
	Harshly, he had pulled her wool sweater up over her breasts.

	"Nice boobs," he was muttering more to himself than to her.  "Nice,
	nice boobies," he was knocking them from side to side, batting at them
	and rubbing his unshaven chin in them.

	One hand went down and pulled up her skirt and forced its way into her
	panties.

	She tried to scream and move, but he held her tightly pinned, and his
	big knobby fingers forced their way between her tightly closed thighs.

	"Fucking virgin tit-woman, fucking shrinking virgin," he was muttering
	as he pinned her legs apart with his legs.  Each of his legs was like
	a pillar and Lena knew now there was going to be no escape.  She
	looked down and saw the huge reddened cock taking aim between her
	thighs and then he rammed his cock at her unwilling opening.

	Her flesh tore and she tried to scream but he had his hand over her
	mouth.  Straw, hay, pubic hair all got sucked in to her battered hole
	as he rammed her again.  The first time he had only managed to ram the
	head of his cock into her vagina.  The hymen had held him out.

	Now he battered this last defense.  She screamed and screamed under
	his hot hand as now he just rammed and rammed his cock into her fully
	opened and bleeding hole, seeming to say with each plunge, "I am going
	to make a woman out of you.  You want to know what it's like to be a
	woman?  Here, I'll show you," and he'd ram his shaft into her bleeding
	vagina again.

	When he was through he just stood up and left her lying there.  He
	stood over her again for a moment.  He didn't need to threaten her not
	to tell anyone what had just happened.  She knew all his threats by
	now, even when they were silent.

	Then he turned and stalked out of the barn, leaving her alone.

	She lay there a long time, crying silently to herself.  Was that what
	lovemaking was like?  Was that what her mother suffered every time her
	parents lay down in their bed?  Was this what her mother's frequent
	screams in the night signified?

	Lena wondered if her mother knew where her husband was going when he
	left the house.

	With some straw she wiped the blood away from her thighs.  But her
	hole was still bleeding.  She tried to stuff some soft grass up her to
	stem the bleeding, but it didn't seem to help.  She wiped her eyes,
	and pulled her clothes back on.

	Then she went to take the full milk pails around to the kitchen, where
	she emptied them into the vat.  Then she had the rest of her evening
	chores to do.

	She scattered feed to the chickens and then climbed up on the pigsty
	and threw the pigs their evening swill.  Her walk was unbalanced, as
	if the ripped, torn and bleeding place between her legs had disjointed
	her legs.  She had to walk a little bowlegged.  The chickens gabbled
	at her feet like the Lilliputians around the giant Gulliver.  The pigs
	snorted and rolled over in delight at receiving their slop.  She
	balanced on the fence around their sty and put a hand to her crotch,
	as if to try to soothe it.

	When she turned in to bed that night, she was in still more pain.  The
	bleeding had stopped but the blood was all in clots now, and every
	time she tossed in her restless dreams, she felt a tearing of flesh
	around her vagina and she dreamed again and again that she was being
	raped.

	"Good morning, sunshine!"

	Lena opened her eyes to bright spring sunshine and the smell of bacon
	frying in the kitchen.  The world seemed bright and beautiful.  It was
	a Saturday and after her chores she would have the day to herself.
	She was young and she was a woman now--today was the second day of her
	first period.  These were the first thoughts to run through her head.

	She swung her legs off the cot.

	"Ohhhhhhh!" she stopped short as the ripping pain between her legs
	brought back the most brutal memory of yesterday.

	"What did you say, honey?" called her mother's voice from the kitchen.

	"Nothing!" she called back.  Slowly she raised her flannel nightie and
	surveyed the damage.  Her menstrual flow was all over her thighs as
	well as some additional bleeding that had started up in the night from
	the torn membrane of her virginity.  She cleaned herself up sadly, and
	very gently inserted a Kotex up her raw vagina.

	She showered and got dressed, dreading to see her father again.

	But her mother had good news for her.

	"Your father left early this morning.  He went in to town and he'll be
	away all day, until supper."

	Lena said nothing.  She sat down at the place her mother had fixed for
	her and hungrily devoured the eggs and bacon and biscuits.  She and
	her mother never discussed her father, but there was an unacknowledged
	understanding between them, that mother and daughter were allies
	against the stern man.  As allies, they were both helpless, but the
	flow of sympathy between them was strong, if unspoken, when, after he
	had abused mother or daughter with his blows, he left them alone to
	each other.

	"What did he go to town for?" Lena asked sullenly.

	"He went to see about Joe King's bull.  He wants to mate it with our
	cows," said Mrs. Hanson.  She had been a pretty woman in her youth,
	with long blonde hair and a creamy complexion that Lena, her daughter,
	had inherited.

	But Mara Hanson, though all of 39 years old, was only a faded image of
	her former pretty self.  Years of hard farm work, and her husband's
	contempt and brutality had made her blonde hair grey, and her face
	worn and anxious looking.  She had brought five children into the
	world.  One, the oldest, a son, had been born stillborn.  Two had died
	in infancy.  Then Clark and Lena had come.  A sixth baby, unknown to
	her husband, had died under a local midwife's hand, in a barn.  Mrs.
	Hanson's body, under her thin housedress, reminded Lena of an old cow
	that has birthed too many calves and has no milk to give any more.

	"Did you sleep well, my darling?" asked her mother.

	"No, Mom," Lena confessed.

	"You know you shouldn't let what your father said last night worry you
	too much.  He seems harsh but he only has your best interests at
	heart," said the self-deluding woman, scrubbing the greasy skillet at
	the sink.

	"Mom, come sit down for a minute," said Lena.  The night before she
	had left the house in the middle of her parents' argument about her.

	When she had discovered her period yesterday afternoon, she had told
	her mother about it.  Her mother had told her father.  That night her
	father began laying down the rules of her new life, at dinner.

	"You will not leave this farm unaccompanied by your mother or myself,"
	he said forking a slab of roast beef into his mouth.  "You will not
	let yourself be alone with any of the boys at school," he continued
	sloshing up the gravy on his plate with a hunk of bread.

	"Roland, I think we can trust the girl a little bit.  She's only
	twelve, after all.  She doesn't have such thoughts on her mind yet."

	"They're never too young for such thoughts," spat out her father.  "I
	won't have any pulling bastard babies sitting at my table.  If I ever
	find you with your legs open to any of the stupid yokels around here
	so help me I'll ..." the thought made him so angry he choked on the
	meat in his throat and at his inability to find words harsh enough to
	explain what he would do to her, if he ever found her in the positions
	of love.

	"Momma, why did you TELL him, about my period, I mean," Lena took her
	mother by the hand and made her sit down at the table.

	"Well, he's your father, I thought he should know that his little
	daughter is a woman now.  In my day, when a girl had her first
	bleeding, her mother and her grandmother slapped her on the face and
	then kissed her and there was a big celebration.  It was an occasion
	of celebration," she said sadly and the vague look that came into her
	eyes more and more often now, crept in.

	Lena shook her mother's hand to bring her back.  "What was it like in
	those days, when you were a girl?" she asked.

	"Oh honey, you know I've told you all about it many times."

	"Yes, but tell me again."

	Lena came over and sat in her mother's lap and her mother stroked her
	hair as if she were a little girl still and began reciting, "In those
	days we were a huge family.  Grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and
	uncles, cousins oh my!  the cousins.  And for every holiday we'd all
	get together, at one of the sisters' or brothers' houses, and all the
	women would start cooking and all the men would be smoking and
	talking, or playing games, horseshoes the older men would play, while
	all the children would be a'playing together, and getting into
	trouble.  My, the fine times we had," she sighed.

	"And what happened when you grew up?" asked Lena, snuggling against
	her mother's breasts.

	"Well, then the beaus came.  One by one, all the sisters of all the
	branches of the family married off.  The young men would come
	a'calling on Ôem, and end up leading them off to the church.  And my
	turn came, and I went like the rest of them."

	"What was he like in those days?"

	"Who?  Oh, your father.  He was a good-looking man.  Still is.  Oh
	yes, I always thought he was good-looking.  Roland Hanson, son of one
	of the first family of Swedes in this district.  With his family's
	canning business to inherit, I couldn't believe that that good-looking
	well-off man was interested in ME!  Course I was pretty then," her
	eyes became clouded again, as if a cloud were passing over her mind.

	"Momma, WHY did you tell him?" Lena got up and stood over her mother.
	Mrs. Hanson didn't move.  Lena shook her by the shoulders.

	"Mother!  Why did you tell him?"

	"Tell him what?  Tell who?" Mrs. Hanson raised her worn and weary face
	to the bright eyes of her daughter.  Wisps of her thinning grey hair
	fell in her face.

	"Father!  About my period!"

	"Honey, I thought he ought to know.  You know I have to tell him
	everything," her mother's voice became vague.

	"I HATE YOU!  I HATE YOU FOR TELLING HIM!" Lena screamed and she ran
	out of the kitchen slamming the back door behind her.

	Mrs. Hanson looked after her in astonishment.  She heard Lena's heavy
	steps across the yard and then the sound faded.  She must have gone
	into the barn, thought Mrs. Hanson.  She turned back to her kitchen
	table and stared at the unwashed cups and plates on the dirty
	tablecloth.

	When Lena left the house she ran across the yard scattering the
	chickens, past the barn, across the driveway and out into the pasture.
	Her father had let the cows out early that morning, and they had
	already worked their way to the far corner.  She kept running past
	them.  It was only when she got to the top of the wooded rise that
	divided their land that she stopped running.  She walked across the
	field being plowed for spring planting.  The dark earth lay in broken
	furrows; the hard dark earth lying in freshly turned clumps.  This
	field would be wheat.

	She reached the far field that was being left to lie fallow for a
	season.  The short spiky husks of the stalks of last summer's corn
	stubbled this field.  At the end of this field she saw the stallions
	running across the land.

	Her father's stallions were beauties.  Tall, proud creatures, strong
	as oxen and very fast, her father had paid a king's ransom for them.
	He loved to ride but didn't have time to ride them everyday, so he had
	hired one of the neighbor boys, Brad King, to exercise them.

	Lena watched Brad now, riding the back of one of the stallions, Black
	Pride.  The other animal, Red Beauty, was running free alongside.
	Brad, on top of his horse, looked like a toy figure in the distance.
	He was waving one arm and shouting or singing something.  She watched
	them ride by across her horizon.

	The days passed very slowly now.  Life was like a burden to her.
	Everyday she woke with a sick feeling in her stomach to face a
	lifeless kind of life, of not speaking to her father, while doing his
	bidding in the house, barely speaking to her mother, whose silent hurt
	look made Lena hate herself even more.  The best part of the day was
	going to sleep and the worst part was waking up.  Every waking moment
	was spent dreading her father's next attack.

	And he did attack again.  He caught her from behind in the kitchen the
	next Sunday when her mother was out at church.  Father and daughter
	both refused to go to church.  Lena had figured if she stayed in the
	house he wouldn't try to touch her, but she was wrong.

	With his arms around her waist he dragged her outside across the yard
	to the barn.  Her screams and cries of dismay made him laugh, and as
	she beat on his head as hard as she could with her fists he only
	laughed more.  His head dodged her fists as if they were flies.

	"Okay, my beauty, I know you've been waiting for this." He threw her
	down on a dank pile of straw.

	He stood over her grinning.  His face was unshaven and his teeth
	blackened with snuff and tobacco juice.  His lips were split and dry.
	He brought his thick tongue out over the lips and softened them.  He
	pulled out his pants and brought out his cock.

	She stared at the pink raw thing, pointed like a spear, and the huge
	balls that bulged under them.  She lay on the straw panting from fear.

	At his next move, which was to fall on her, she scrambled to her feet.
	He got up as quickly and then they stood there, facing each other
	across a milk pail like two wrestlers sizing each other up.  The barn
	door was behind her and she wondered if she could run for it.

	She didn't have time to think for he took her by surprise with his
	fist in her jaw which sent her sprawling.  Once she was down he kicked
	her in the cunt and she lay there writhing in pain.

	He left her and went and got a harness from one of the stallion's
	stalls.  Before she knew it she found he was tying her up to a post in
	the barn with the straps of the bit around her face.

	When he had her tied down so that she couldn't move, he ripped her
	dress off and just stared for awhile at her large white tits and the
	brown nipples that hung on the ends of them.  He walked up to her and
	pressed his cock into her tits.  She writhed with revulsion.

	Then he pressed his cock into her mouth.  She screamed and tried to
	shake her head from side to side, but the huge male member was firmly
	forcing its way into her throat.

	Her father squatted on top of her, turning to look at her tits and
	twist her nipples from time to time, and as he did this he drove his
	cock home deeper and deeper into her throat until she was almost
	choking which was when he came in a sea of creamy come.

*    *    *

	Lena went out to the stallions' stalls at one o'clock that night.  She
	couldn't sleep, the house seemed stifling.  Her mother had come home
	from church that night and made supper.  She had remarked on how
	unusually quiet her family had become and had said, well if no one had
	anything else to say she would tell them what happened at church that
	day.  She had talked all through dinner, and after dinner Mr. Hanson
	had left the house.  Lena sat up with her mother for a few more hours
	letting her mother chatter, and then had gone to bed, complaining of
	being very tired.

	However she hadn't been able to sleep for a moment.  Turning and
	turning in bed she waited until she heard her mother go to sleep.  Her
	father wouldn't be home at all that night, she knew.  Often he went
	off in the truck and didn't come home until morning.  Now she slipped
	into the stallion's stall, which was on the other side of the barn
	from the cows.

	Black Pride and Red Beauty were both awake.  Their bright black eyes
	stared at her with curiosity.  Lena didn't know what drove her here.
	Perhaps it was because after the sordidness of the experience tonight,
	she sought out some contact with real beauty.

	She was never allowed to ride the stallions.  Her father said a
	woman's flesh on their backs would spoil their dispositions
	permanently.  But she rode the other horses and loved to ride.

	The stallions knew her.  She slipped them apples and sugar from time
	to time.  She had some sugar with her now, and each horse licked the
	cubes in her hand.  She began stroking them.  Red Beauty was her
	favorite.  The creatures reddish tone was brilliant beneath the open
	sky and sun, and even here in the dark barn his coat gave off a
	reddish glow.

	She stroked his neck and flanks.  She found a brush and began brushing
	his coat on his back and stomach.  Suddenly she noticed that the
	animal's genitals were erect.  His cock was black but his balls had
	the reddish tinge of his coat.  To her the size of the horse's cock
	was the normal size of a cock.  The male horses' genitals were a
	familiar sight to her.  Her father's cock, small and paltry in
	comparison, made her laugh now.  The mere thought of it: the stupid
	man's pride in his genitalia, so unimpressive beside the fine
	equipment of this animal here.

	Without thinking what she was doing, she slipped underneath the animal
	and began stroking his cock and balls.  The animal bridled at first
	but it stood quite still, quivering as she slipped her hands quickly
	across the erect span of HARD flesh.  The penis became wet under her
	hands.

	She stopped once and heard the animal growl.

	She slipped off her panties and bent over under the horse.  His legs
	were so long that she could stand bent over under his stomach.  She
	parted her buttocks with her hands and backed onto the horse's cock.
	It went smoothly into her.

	The animal stood quite still as the girl slid back and forth on his
	wet cock, hard and pointing like an accusing finger.  She laughed as
	she came at the wonder of the animal's hugeness and the depths to
	which his cock could reach.

Chapter 2

	The spring became sweet again.  Or bittersweet.  She always loved the
	ripening of the leaves on the trees, the slow emergence of green all
	over the land, the softening up of the earth.  It rained for one week
	straight and then the whole farm became mud and she had to muck
	through the yard in big boots to do her chores.

	She went to school every day and avoided the advances of the local
	boys.  If her father ever found her flirting with one of them he would
	kill her, or come close to it she knew that.  Now he would come to the
	schoolyard sometimes and watch her playing through the fence.  Her
	games became stiff and self-conscious then, and her girlfriends
	noticed the strange situation, and they became distant.  They were all
	afraid of Lena's father and ran to the far yard of the schoolyard when
	they saw him watching them.

	Sometimes he waited for her after school, waiting in the truck while
	all the other kids went by, until he saw her.  He would signal to her
	with his finger, and she would have to leave her other girlfriends.

	"My father's here to pick me up again, I have to go," she said with an
	unhappy look on her face.  Her girlfriend Ellen squeezed her hand and
	kissed her cheek before running off with the other girls.  Lena would
	climb into the truck next to her father.

	He usually took her to an abandoned barn he knew about down by
	Kingfisher River.  Usually she was sobbing at first, as he stopped the
	truck and pulled her out.  He pulled her stumbling behind him to the
	shack where he made her lie on the floor and put his cock in her mouth
	or cunt.

	He whispered to her coarsely at these times: "I like your cunt, my
	girl.  Not every man's got a daughter with such pussy on her."

	He liked to part her cunt with his dirty fingers to ready it for his
	reddened cock.  He liked to force his cock between her teeth and down
	her throat.

	For a few weeks he would take her only from behind, forcing her to her
	knees so he could drive his shaft home into the mound that stuck out
	between her thighs.

	He couldn't keep his hands off her boobs, and he began to grow bolder,
	sticking his hands inside her shirt to squeeze her boobs couched in
	her white bra, as he passed her in the hall at home.

	Still, every time her father took her as his sullen victim, she sought
	revenge by going out into the barn that night and finding pleasure
	with his horse.  For as much revulsion as her father evoked in her,
	ten times greater was the pleasure with the stallion Red Beauty.

	She rigged a harness for herself, by which she could strap herself to
	the animal's underside, belly to belly.  Her legs boldly apart, her
	cunt pink and wet and wanting, strapped to her hero, she rode to glory
	with his long horsecock poling into her hole.

	She had seen horses mate before, and she had seen these stallions
	mate.  The male of the horse species mates ferociously with its
	female.

	But for her, Red Beauty remained almost completely still, as if
	hypnotized.  The horse seemed to sense quite clearly that another than
	one of his kind was mounting him, and with his silence and his
	acquiescence he seemed to be paying homage to the higher species which
	sought him out.  He seemed to understand the honor she was paying him,
	and he let her pay it freely.

	Horsecock was the only thing that could satisfy her now.  She laughed
	at school when the boys took interest in her, or when the other girls
	had crushes on this boy or that.  The other girls didn't understand
	her.  She acted so superior when it came to boys but they never saw
	her go out with one.

	"Boys don't interest me," was all she would ever say to enlighten the
	mystery.  "And men?  Well, I'm waiting to see a real man.  I don't
	believe I've ever seen one."

	"What are you crazy?  Mr. Nolte's a man and he teaches right here in
	this school.  Your father's a man and you see others, what do you mean
	you've never seen a real man?" asked Ellen.  Ellen was a tall thin
	girl who felt very self-conscious because of her height.  She towered
	above all the boys in their class.  Her body had not begun developing
	yet, and she still had only little nipples for breasts.

	Lena looked at Mr. Nolte walking by, a bald man with an undefined
	bundle between his legs, under his baggy pants, and she had to laugh.

	Ellen looked at her peculiarly and walked away.

	Mr. Hanson did not appear at the schoolyard for a week.  He was in
	town arranging for the transfer of the King bull to his farm to mate
	with his cows.  Some of the cows were birthing now in the spring from
	the last time he brought the bull to them.  He wanted another litter
	in the making.  He received good prices on his calves.

	Joe King agreed to bring his bull around the next Saturday.  Roland
	Hanson looked forward to the occasion.  He forgot about his daughter
	for a while and contented himself evenings taking his stallions, first
	one then the other, out for rides across the countryside.

	Lena watched from behind the fence as the figure of her father, burly
	and heavy, on the swift shape of Red Beauty became a speck on the
	horizon.  She grew angry thinking of her father's thighs goading Red
	Beauty's flanks.  She knew that her father's whip would be no more
	sparing to his horse than his words or actions were to his wife and
	daughter.

	But there was nothing she could do about this anger.  She couldn't
	even speak of it to anyone, and now, her beauty, which was taking
	shape and growing every day, began to take on a sullen, inward look.

	Brad King came by one evening to pick up his pay from her father and
	she was in the yard when he pulled up in his car.  He had a '68 Chevy
	with all the chrome polished on it, and she admired the car.

	"You like her, huh?" Brad stuck his head out the window and asked her.
	"Yep, I paid for her and fixed her all up myself.  You should have
	seen her when I first got her," he shook his head.

	"Well my father's not home right now He went out riding about an hour
	ago."

	"Well, I guess I could wait a while, see if he comes back.  I sure
	could use that dough," he eyed her up and down.  She was wearing a
	pair of old blue jeans and thin red shirt.

	"You and me should go out some time," he said.  "I'll take you for a
	ride in my jalopy."

	She laughed sadly.  "No, I don't think so." Brad was already graduated
	from high school.  He was eighteen years old and already looked like a
	man.  He had been working his father's land since he was a kid and had
	grown straight into a man's big body.  He had sandy-colored hair, like
	her own, and blue-grey eyes with a kind look to them.  He had thin
	hungry looking lips.  He shifted in his seat.

	"Why not?  Don't you think I'm good enough for you?" He looked at the
	plump mounds jiggling right under the thin red fabric of her blouse
	and he allowed his glance to slip down to the v-shaped wrinkles of her
	tight jeans as they gripped her between the legs.  He remembered that
	she was only twelve years old.

	"I'm too young to go out with boys.  Besides, my father would kill
	me."

	"Oh, so your father don't want you seeing no men," he eyed the shape
	of her ass as she bent down to tie her moccasin.

	They heard a galloping against the earth and saw Mr. Hanson come
	riding across the field behind the barn.  He rode up and stopped the
	horse between them.

	"What are you doing there, son?" he asked speaking down to the boy in
	the car.  "Just talking to your daughter while I was waiting for you,
	sir.  Remember you said you'd have my pay for me today?"

	"Oh yes, I'll go in the house and get it.  And you, get on with your
	chores, sister.  Don't be wasting your time chitter-chattering with
	those mooney eyes."

	"I swear," he went on in the kitchen as he counted out the money to
	Brad King, "they say in the church that women are pure and saintly,
	but every woman I've ever known has been hornier than a female feline
	in heat.

	Except the female of the human species is like that ALL THE TIME.
	Fifty-sixty-sixty-five," he counted out.

	"Don't you agree with me, Brad?" he asked.

	"Yessir," said Brad.

	"Listen, don't you let me catch you hanging around my little Lena.
	That girl's very precious to me, and I won't have no country hicks
	knocking her up before her time.  You hear me, boy?"

	"Yessir.  Nothing could be farther from my mind," Brad said.

*     *     *

	Her father took her brutally that night.  He made no show of hiding
	what he was about.  After dinner, while her mother was at the sink
	doing the dishes, Lena tried on a new dress she had ordered through
	the mail.  It had just come that day.  Her mother pinned it up for her
	and then she went to her room and changed back into her jeans.  She
	sat cross-legged on the floor, watching TV, with pins in her mouth, as
	she sewed.  She had a good, clever little stitch.  All the while her
	father sat smoking and watching her.  He watched every movement of her
	tits beneath her blouse, and every strain of the denim across her
	cunt.

	Lena was aware of his eyes, but felt safe because of her mother's
	presence.  Surely he couldn't take her right in front of her mother.

	Suddenly he swooped down on her, scattering her dish of pins, and
	simply picked her up and carried her through the kitchen and out of
	the house under his arm.

	"Roland, what are you doing?" screeched and flapped his wife Mara at
	the kitchen door as she watched her husband carry her daughter to the
	barn.

	"Shut up and keep out of here," he merely roared at her over her
	shoulder.

	She stood for a moment nervously wringing a towel in her hand as she
	stared at the closed barn door.

	Inside, Roland Hanson tied his daughter's neck to the base of one of
	the posts.  He didn't have to fear her flailing arms and legs.

	"Mother!  MOTHER!" she was screaming.

	"No, cunt, I'm your father," he slapped her face back and forth until
	she stopped screaming.  He left the red imprint of his fingers across
	her face He parted her thighs with his rough knees.  His own thighs
	were like mountains, thick and heavy and strong.  The white skin of
	her own thighs, cruelly parted, against his, was like cream lying
	beside mutton.

	His cock was hurting him in his pants.  The tip of it stuck above the
	waistband.  He tore the buckle open on his belt and unzipped his fly.
	He squashed his cock into her face, dragging the end of the huge
	member across her cheeks and lips and nose, across her eyes, smashing
	her face with it.

	"So you got the hots for Brad King, do you.  Open your eyes and take
	your fill of the likes of a real man," he snarled in her ear.

	She opened her eyes in time to witness his cock take aim for a moment
	over her mouth.  His hands, one on her upper and one on her lower jaw,
	pried her mouth open.  She watched the cock descend into her small
	gaping mouth.

	It filled all the space between her tongue and the roof of her mouth,
	then pushed further into the hole of her throat.  Again and again he
	raised and then lowered himself down into the soft cunt-like flesh of
	her throat, while she choked and sputtered and tried to keep breathing
	through her nose.

	"You think Brad King's thingie is as big and bad as mine," he
	whispered evilly into her ear.

	She was just breathing and trying to open her mouth wide to allow him
	the kind of access he insisted on, so he would get his rocks off and
	let her loose.

	But he wanted an answer to his question.

	He reached behind him, as he sat on her chest plunging his cock into
	her face, for her boobs.  He found one with one hand and he juggled it
	in his hand so full and weighty was it.  He found and juggled the
	other one.  Then his fingers sought the nipple, which he treated with
	a sharp twist.

	"Owwww," a gurgled sound came out of her full mouth, and she tossed
	her head, which made her choke even more as she was brought up short
	by the leather thong around her neck.

	"Do you think his cock is as big as mine?" he demanded of her again
	giving the nipple another good hard twist.

	"Nnnnn," she shook her head from side to side.

	He seemed satisfied with her answer for he jumped out, pulling his
	cock out of her mouth and he stood above her naked body.

	Kneeling he forced her legs apart again and he surveyed the pink pussy
	lying helpless before him, couched in her wheat-colored cunt hair.  He
	spat on the cunt to make it slippery wet.

	"Driest fucking cunt in the Midwest," he said with contempt.

	Then he made a fist and began to try to shove it in her now wet cunt.
	She shrieked with pain, for he had grabbed some of her hair in his
	fist, and he was mercilessly trying to get all five of his crumpled
	fingers and knotted knuckles up her at once, and indeed he did.  He
	kept at it until he had worked his fist all the way in.

	He chortled, "Look!" he said.  "Look!" he shook his fist in her cunt
	swinging her body around, and she, exhausted, tried to raise her head
	and look as he said.

	She saw him, the end of his arm sunk way deep into her.  He looked
	like an amputee.

	"Now I've got you where I want you!" he said.  "If you ever so much as
	breathe in Brad King's direction, do you know what I'll do to you?" he
	asked.

	Again he forced her to make some kind of answer.  She shook her head.
	He told her.

	"I'll stuff all kinds of things into you, I'll fuck with anything I
	can find lying around.  I'll fuck you so good and so long and so hard
	that no man will want your raggedy meat after that.  I'll make your
	cunt loose its memory that there's any such thing as a another man's
	cock in the world."

	Now he yanked his fist out.  He prepared his cock for its meal,
	basting it with some of his own spit.

	But as he opened her cunt with his fingers he looked at the pussyflesh
	and realized he wanted to eat her out.  Father sank his mouth into
	daughter's cunt and his thick hot tongue was ravaging her cunt, biting
	on the nub of flesh between the outer labia.  He poked her clitoris
	with a bent finger, while his tongue stuck into her cunt depths, and
	she writhed and screamed at this new humiliation.

	To have this huge, hideously ugly man who had fathered her, open her
	legs and stick his tongue in her sickened her and made her scream
	hysterically.  Finally he removed his face from her cunt with a big
	grin for he had woman come smeared all over his lips.

	"Sickening, they're all the same," he muttered to himself, and now he
	took his cock in his hand and plunged into the melting butter of her
	cunt.  She was softer and juicier than she had ever been before, and
	he sank right into her cunt up to the hilt of his shaft.  She was all
	pussysoft inside, like a juicy quilt.  His dick throbbed and trembled
	as he withdrew it slowly, only to plunge it again.  His foreskin slid
	up and down over his cock and there was cuntjuice all over.

	He increased the friction over his penis' head by jamming in and out
	faster and faster.  The cock made a sucking sound every time it came
	in and out of her passive cunthole.

	Suddenly he was riding freely, as if he were on a stallion.  He was no
	longer propelling himself on her, but it was as if he had simply let
	go of all control of his body and was being moved up and down through
	space, an inner space, a black starry universe, by some other force
	than his own.  Smoothly, riding high and low and high and all the way,
	he came gushing into his daughter's cunt.

	He stood up and smeared the come on his cock all over her belly, then
	left her lying there to untie the rope around her neck with her own
	hands.  He didn't even bother to put on his pants as he strode across
	the yard and got into his car.  He drove off for a night of honky-
	tonking, leaving the mother staring out from the kitchen window,
	waiting for his headlights to disappear, before she ran to her
	daughter lying in the barn.

	"My darling, sweetheart, what has he done to you?" sobbed the mother,
	untying the rope from around her daughter's neck.

	It was minutes before Lena could talk, so long did it take her to get
	her throat back into working, breathing, and talking order.  The strap
	had left a red mark around her neck.

	The worn, older woman tried to carry her daughter to the house, but it
	was no use.  The younger woman was much stronger than the mother, and
	it was Lena who ended up helping her hysterical mother across the
	yard.

	Lena tried to soothe her mother in the house, after she had put on
	some clothes.

	"Calm down, mother, it's all right.  Maybe if he's on top of me, he
	won't be hurting you so much anymore," she said.  She wondered if this
	was true.  She hadn't heard her mother's midnight screams in a few
	months, and her parents certainly seemed to fight a lot less than
	before.

	"What can we do?  What can we do?" Mrs. Hanson was grasping at the
	wispy bits of grey that fell on her face.  She was speaking
	hysterically.

	"Mother, go to bed.  I'll make you a cup of warm milk and maybe that
	will help you to sleep," Lena found she felt decisive and firm before
	her mother's helpless state.

	"There now," she said tucking her mother in." We'll figure it out in
	the morning." And she watched over her mother, and held her hand,
	until the tired old, young woman fell asleep.

	As soon as her deep breathing indicated a deep state of sleep, Lena
	laid her mother's hand down on the bed and went back out to the barn.

	She saddled up Red Beauty, and led him out of the barn and through the
	fence into the pasture.  She mounted him easily with one movement, and
	then took him galloping out behind the wheat fields.

	The moon was high and full that night and it was deep spring.  The
	creek was full and high and she could see by the moonlight the shadows
	of the minnows that were newly spawned darting about in the blue
	water.

	Red Beauty whinnied and again they took off, galloping across the
	countryside in the moonlight, the girl with her blonde hair streaming
	out behind her, and the red stallion, his mane sweeping her face.

	They came back to the gully where it winded further on and made a pool
	of water.  The stallion bent down his long neck for a drink and Lena
	slipped off him.

	While he was drinking Lena went under him and started stroking his
	balls and the furry sheath that housed his penis.  She placed her lips
	on the furry hair and kissed the sheath, pressing hard with her lips.
	She felt the mouth of the sheath open and the cock begin to protrude.
	She slavered over the growing, emerging cock with her tongue until it
	was fully-grown.  It looked like a flame or a wet tongue, except that
	it was about seventeen inches long.

	"Mmmmmmmm," she groaned.  "Beauty, Red Beauty," she whispered
	squeezing the long hard wet dick with her hands, and the horse
	whinnied and went up on his two front legs while she held on.

	She laughed and slipped off her jeans.  Her hands clinging to the
	stirrups, and her legs wrapped around the stallion's back legs, she
	eased her sore pussy over the long cock.  It touched bottom in her
	before it was halfway in.

	Again the horse whinnied and went up on his hind legs as the obsessed
	girl rocked up and down over the slick horsecock.  The long slick wet
	thing soothed the cunt which had been violated only hours before.

	The horse brought her to heights and depths of orgasmic pleasure such
	as normal women do not dream of.  She clung with her thighs to the
	horse's penis and slid it in and out of her, allowing her uninhibited
	groans of pleasure to rise from the flat plain straight into the
	starry sky and up to the full moon.

	"Jesus Fucking H.  Christ," came a voice in the darkness.

	Lena froze in her clasp on the underside of the horse.  The horse too
	sensed the stranger's presence, for he froze and a frightened sound
	escaped from between his flared nostrils.

	"Why it's Lena!  Roland Hanson's daughter!" and a long amazed whistle
	followed.

	Lena had fallen to the ground and she lay still now, abject and
	humiliated.

	The man, when he came over to look at her, was Brad King.

	He stood over her, looking down, surprise in his eyes.  He bent down
	and helped her sit up, supporting her shoulders with his knees.  He
	pulled her jeans up over her crotch, trying not to look at the white
	semen, horse semen, flowing all over her thighs.

	"Jeesus Christ," he said again.  "On her Daddy's stallion." He shook
	his head again.  "Where'd you learn to do that, girl?" he asked.  She
	clung miserably to his arms.  What would he do with her now?  Tell her
	father?  She couldn't even think of what her father might do to her if
	he knew.  Killing wouldn't be enough, she knew.

	"I mean I've heard tell of this sort of thing--I mean girls with
	animals, horses and dogs and such, but I never really believed," he
	whistled again.

	She turned to look up at him as she lay in his arms.  "My father rapes
	me once or twice a week," she said looking firmly into his eyes.  "And
	every time he does it to me, I go out in the barn afterwards, when
	he's left the house to go whore-hunting in town, and I do it with his
	best horse."

	She looked unwaveringly at him to see how he would take it, take the
	truth.

	He was looking at her while she talked, but when she finished he
	looked away.

	"Oh lord, there's all kind of critters in this world.  All kinds, the
	good lord preserve us.  You know, I never did like your daddy.  Cruel
	man, unnecessarily cruel, I always thought.  With his animals and with
	his wife.  And with his daughter now, too, I should have known."

	He lay down on the ground beside her now and held her in his arms as
	if to protect or nurse her.

	"Well, what are you doing way out here in the middle of the night,
	anyway, yourself, Brad King," Lena murmured in his ear.

	"I was out riding myself, little honey," he said kissing her hair.
	"You done wandered onto my daddy's land.  I saw someone come riding
	across the plain on what looked like Mr. Hanson's stallion so I came
	out to investigate.  You didn't even hear me ride up." He licked the
	lobe of her little ear.

	"Only twelve years old," he muttered to himself and shook his head.

	"Brad, if my father finds out that you and me ever lay together like
	this, Brad, he'll kill me.  He will.  I've got to get away from you,"
	she said, suddenly hysterically rising.

	"Wow, now there little filly," he said gently pulling her back down to
	the fertile earth.  "How's he gonna know, that we met way out here?"

	"I think he'd be angrier about finding out about me and you than about
	me and Red Beauty.  Red Beauty, at least he's his horse."

	"Well now, who's gonna tell him either story?  Not me.  You can trust
	me baby," he said moving his lips down her face until they met her
	lips.

	He hugged her big soft boobs against his flat hard chest, and then
	unbuttoned both their shirts so he could feel her big soft tits
	directly against his hairless chest Her nipples felt like little
	raisins at the end of big marshmellowy mounds and he stuck his face in
	one then the other like a little baby at its mother's breasts.

	His dick was like a hard arrow in his pants, and he pressed his groin
	against her soft stomach.

	"I don't know if I should," she whimpered.  She was confused now, and
	didn't know who was mounting her.

	"You don't know if you should?" he said, rubbing his hardened jeans
	along her open yawning cunt which he had revealed by pulling off her
	panties.  He looked at the black gash in the big pink pussy.  There
	was still some creamy come floating in her pussyhair.  It was from the
	horse.

	He unleashed his cock from his jeans and pointed it toward the black
	gash in the pink, the gash that led into the dark pussydepths.

	Her legs parted willingly now, she pulled at her thighs with her hands
	to open her cunt wider now for his entry.

	When he plunged into her now, her clit was like a tuning fork that has
	just been hit: it was vibrating and large and full of juice.  His cock
	was like a blade that slayed her.  It passed right over and back
	across and over again her throbbing clit and every time the head of
	his cock pushed across her clit, slicking it as it passed, she sank
	into oblivion and came, and came again.

	He took his coming slowly.  He kissed her lips, sucking them into his
	mouth.  Her lower lip was full and red and he took it between his own
	thin lips as if it were a big cherry in a cocktail.  Her upper lip too
	he savored with his tongue and teeth.  Then he darted his tongue way
	into her mouth as his cock plunged into the black cave of her cunt.
	Quivering it came up even harder than before.

	It was going to take a lot of fucking to fuck the hardness out of his
	dick that had yearned for this little girl's pussyhood for so long.

	She opened her eyes and looked at the landscape behind her.  The moon
	glared eerily on the landscape.  Everything seemed drenched in the
	moon's silver, the fields, with their newly sown seed, the brown
	earth, the newly-green trees that leaned over the creek and the
	singing water of the creek itself.

	"Oh look!" she cried.

	Against the horizon two black horses reared up on their hind legs.  It
	was Red Beauty, her father's stallion, mounting Brad's filly.

	Brad halted his movement on top of her for a moment to watch the
	coupling of the animals.  The stallion whinnied and neighed fiercely
	as he boldly threw his front hooves on the filly's buttocks.

	The filly was fierce too, as she pretended to try to pull away, as if
	she didn't know what the stallion was doing or didn't want him to do
	it.  She made the stallion knock her with his hooves and grasp her
	tighter.  They could see the male's huge cock stand up and then sink
	into the mare while both animals sang out a wild fierce chorus of
	animal lust.

	Brad stroked her clitoris and she was filled with throbbing desire
	again.

	This time he spared no ounce of energy as he rode his cock into the
	willing girl.  She encircled his back with her long lovely legs, legs
	like a filly's, and she clung to him, raising her buttocks off the
	ground to hang suspended from him as he bore his cock into her pussy
	cunt.

	His horn bore a hole into her which made her forget the her father's
	sledgehammer, and also the horse's long strange cock.

	Brad King fit right into her and she took one final breath and
	squeezed him with all her pussy muscles and she hung on squeezing and
	squeezing his cock in her pussy with all her might while he continued
	his fierce plunging.  Like this she brought him off.  The last plunge
	was into a sea of come that he left floating in the very bottom of her
	cunt ...

Chapter 3

	"In an isosceles triangle, there are two sides of equal length while
	the third side is shorter.  The hypotenuse ..." Mr. Nolte droned on in
	math class.

	Lena shared a desk with Ellen and they passed notes under the
	tabletop.

	"Have you ever seen a man's thingie?" read the note from Ellen.

	Lena suppressed a giggle and wrote back.

	"You have?  Whose?" was the reply.

	"My cousin's," Lena wrote back after a moment's thought.

	"I have too.  This weekend.  I saw Jed Raleigh's," was Ellen's
	exciting news.

	"How did you like it?" asked Lena.

	Mr. Nolte was standing over them.  "Give me the note," he said.

	"Oh, no, please, Mr. Nolte, we'll stop passing them only ..."

	"Give me the note."

	They sullenly gave him the slip of paper they had been writing on.
	They looked shamefacedly at the floor as he perused it silently before
	the class and then folded it into his pocket, blushing.  He said, "Now
	everyone pay attention.  No note passing." And he went back to
	triangles.

	Lena fixed her eyes on the blackboard filling up with figures, but
	behind her eyes she was lost in thought.  She wondered what were the
	circumstances under which the skinny Ellen had seen Jed Raleigh's
	cock.  She wondered what his cock was like.  Jed was in the eighth
	grade, one year above them.  He was thirteen.

	Then her mind wandered to a thought of what a cock feels like slipping
	inside you.  Under the schoolgirl's table, a pair of schoolgirl thighs
	became moist.  She was wearing only a thin pair of white cotton
	panties under her skirt and her own moist smell came up to her from
	under the seat.  She remembered Brad King's gentle hands opening her
	cunt gently prior to inserting his pleasantly-sized member into her
	and she recalled how it went in and out gently, exciting her further
	as it moved.  How they had reached some kind of white pitch together,
	at the same time, as the horses moved violently on the horizon.

	Then a shudder went through her body as her mind could not help
	recalling a very different kind of sex: the brutality and fear of her
	father's bondage in the barn.  The class was interrupted at that point
	by a knock at the door.  Everyone's failing attention was awakened and
	turned to the door.

	Through the window they saw a scruffy contorted face.

	Mr. Nolte went to the door and stuck his head out into the hall.  Then
	he turned back into the room and called, "Lena Hanson."

	She heard her name being called as if through a mist and just barely
	managed to revive herself from her dreams and say "Yes?"

	"You are dismissed from class.  Go into the hall.  Your father has
	come for you.  You have to go home," said Mr. Nolte.

	Was he laughing at her?  Having intercepted that note he must know,
	Lena felt.  She felt as if the whole class were laughing at her, as if
	they all must know what this strange midday summons from her father
	meant.  What could she say or do?  Refuse to go?  Announce to the
	class: my father has come to get me and take me somewhere where he can
	rape me?  Who would believe her?  And she would never have the nerve
	to do it anyway.  At least not while her father was there watching and
	waiting for her.  He would surely kill her once he got her away, if he
	heard her say something like that.

	Miserably, she got up from her little desk.  Ellen clung to her hand
	under the table then let her go.  Ellen's kind eyes didn't look her in
	the face.  Ellen surely knows, she thought.  Ellen senses it, even if
	she doesn't know exactly.  She knows something horrible is wrong.

	She felt the eyes of the entire class on her back as she walked to the
	door, and it was almost a relief to escape their curious eyes and
	confront her father in the hall.

	"Why have you come for me?"

	"Don't ask questions." He took her by the hand and started down the
	hall.

	"And the hypotenuse of this isosceles triangle is ...Ellen?" she heard
	Mr. Nolte's voice getting fainter.

	It was very strange to be walking through the school halls with her
	father.  It was like having one foot in the grave she enjoyed some
	freedom from fear, freedom from attack.  They walked together down the
	well-lit corridors.  There were pictures done by the second graders
	hanging on the walls in the main lobby.

	Mr. Hanson nodded to the school principal, Mr. Rice, a big, bald,
	paunchy man in a cowboy hat.  Lena's father sold his heifers to Mr.
	Rice, who kept a small herd of livestock.

	Outside in front of the school, her father stopped to talk to Jimmy
	Nails, the local cop who played cards with her father on the weekends.

	"Mighty nice day, Roland," said Jimmy, rocking back on the heels of
	his black leather boots.  He was in his blue uniform, and had his cop
	car pulled up to the curb.

	"Yep," said her father, holding her by the hand, but stopping to chew
	some tobacco with his friend.

	"That sure is a pretty little girl you've got there.  How old are you
	now, Lena?" the cop said patronizingly.

	"Twelve," said Lena sullenly.

	"She'll be thirteen in August," said her father squeezing her hand
	tightly.

	"She sure is right pretty.  Sure is.  Pretty soon all the little boys
	in her class will be wanting to take her to see the double features
	down to the Rialto," Jimmy the cop spoke about her as if she were
	absent.

	"She's too young for such things," said her father spitting.

	"Well, I don't know about that," said Jimmy leering and looking
	frankly at her well-developed bust.

	"Well, I do know and I'm her father so I guess I get some say so in
	what she is allowed to do and what she is not.  And seeing boys is not
	allowed.  Come along honey," he said dragging her into his waiting
	pick-up.  "We got some chores we got to do today," he added.

	"Father knows best," said Jimmy grinning and he put on his dark
	sunglasses and climbed into his own car.

	"Please follow us," Lena was praying.  "Please be suspicious and
	follow us and see what he tries to do to me, and rescue me and put him
	in jail, or me in jail or just something, anything, to keep him off of
	me!" were Lena's hysterical thoughts.  But as they pulled out onto the
	highway that led to the old abandoned shack by Neversink Creek, one
	glance in the rear view mirror told her that Jimmy the cop had had no
	such thoughts as following them on his mind.

	Her panic grew as they rode silently in the car.  She couldn't even go
	to the police for protection from her father.  They would never
	believe her either.  Half of them were her father's buddies, and they
	would only pat her on the head for making up stories and return her
	directly to him.

	He threw her skirts up around her waist so he could look at her thighs
	as they drove.  He put one big hand over her thighs and tweaked at the
	flesh that lay under her panties.  Her soft white thigh flesh seemed
	to pull away from his coarse intruding hands, but he didn't seem to
	notice.  He was breathing heavily as they turned onto the dirt road
	that led down to the creek.

	He offered no explanation as to why he hadn't been able to wait for
	her after school, as he had other times.  Why he had to add the extra
	humiliation of removing her from class before everybody's watching
	eyes.  It was as if he wanted her to have to bear this extra
	alienation, of not being able to explain why her father came to remove
	her from school.  He was making her feel different, and there was no
	one to whom she could tell her story when he stopped the car and
	jumped out of the cab, she remained inside.  He had to come around to
	her side, open her door and pull her out.  She clung to the gearshift,
	and then to the door, screaming, "Please, father, no!"

	He slapped her face a few times until she was silenced, then unwrapped
	her fingers from his car's door and slung her over his back.  He
	carried her down to the water's edge.

	It was a beautiful day, one of the first days of summer.  The water in
	the creek was high and spangled with sunlight.  The leaves were almost
	full-grown on the trees that hung over the water, and they dappled the
	water with their shadows.  There were flies in the air, just spawned
	by the earth overnight, it seemed, and Lena's eyes caught sight of a
	dragonfly, the first she had seen this year, glinting just above the
	surface of the stream's rippling water.  Her father threw her down on
	the grass-covered bank and fell on top of her.

	"You're making me think of you all the time, you little cunt," be
	whispered hoarsely in her ear.  "Can't even work, now.  Have to ride
	the tractor, do the planting, oversee the crew of boys who are helping
	me, but I can't, and it's your fault." He stuck his thick, tobacco-
	stained tongue in her ear and explored all the crevices of her soft
	pink seashell.

	She felt the tongue like an unpleasant animal, a worm or a conch,
	worming down into the canal of her ear and it stirred her
	unpleasantly.

	"In the yard I watch you bending over to feed the chickens, in the
	barn where I watch you squat on a stool to milk the cows.  I get
	jealous when I watch you stroke their flanks.  The cows.  I get
	jealous when I see you touching the fucking cows." Now he was exposing
	her breasts to the open sun.

	They were beautiful, firm, oblong-shaped, and white as fresh cream
	with brown nipples like the nougat inside of a candy bar.  He
	slobbered his mouth all over these mounds of flesh, taking the nipples
	between his teeth and pulling lightly on them, watching as he raised
	the whole tit to a standing position by pulling on the nipple.  He had
	the playfulness of a child today as he laughed gleefully when he
	released the nipples and the breasts fell back onto her chest like
	water balloons thrown gently on the ground.  They did not burst, they
	rolled around and resumed their former shape.  He cradled the boob
	weight in his hands and looked off in the distance as if her were
	judging the weight of one of his prize heifers.

	He rolled her over on her hands and knees so he could look at her
	boobs hanging down.  They almost touched the earth.  The nipples were
	distended now, from his biting them and from hanging down, and he
	reached under her to cup his hands around her young tits and sway them
	and nip at them with his fatherly fingers.

	"All the time.  All the time," he kept whispering hoarsely in her ears
	like a gadfly, like a record, unrelated to what was happening which
	she nevertheless could not turn off.  "I keep thinking of you, seeing
	you, seeing the shape of your tits in the mounds of earth the tractor
	drops seeds into, seeing your hair flowing over your boobies when I
	turn on the hose and wash down the sacks of feed.  I can't even look a
	cow in the ass, I think of your sweet pink cuntflesh between those
	white thighs of yours, and I want Ôem.  I want Ôem so bad I can't
	think, I can't work, can't do nothing but come to school and get you
	to take you away where I can put my hands all over you alone and touch
	you everywhere and make my mind stop trying to remember you.

	His hands were all over her now, up her dress, around her waist,
	slipping under her panties, scratching through her pussy hair.

	"Father!" she tried to stop him.  They were right out in broad
	daylight now, after all.  Someone might come along.  She hoped someone
	would.  But maybe now, in broad daylight, he might listen to reason,
	come to his senses.

	"Father, it's against the Bible.  Don't you know this is a sin?  You
	can't fornicate with your own daughter.  You'll make the sky go black
	some day with your dreadful deeds.  Father, go to the women in town,
	go to mother, go to anyone else, but please leave me alone, I beg of
	you.  If you can't bear to see me around the house without wanting me,
	I'll go away.  I'll go away somewhere so you won't have to look at me,
	but please don't."

	He didn't even hear her last words, though he was laughing at her
	protests.  He had gotten his forefinger in her slit now and he was
	rubbing back and forth feeling the wetness increase.  He moved his
	forefinger up to rub the swelling mound of flesh between her labia and
	then he slid the finger back down to the hole and entered her youthful
	love-cave.

	Her clit too was swelling and throbbing despite herself, and she was
	all wet now.  The wall-to-wall quilting of her twelve-year-old cunt
	was slimy with female love muck and he laughed as he withdrew his
	horny finger and heard a sigh from her.

	"I thought you didn't like it," he said, raising himself up off her
	for a minute to unbuckle his pants.

	"Uh," she opened her eyes.  For a moment she had imagined that it was
	Brad King who had been tickling her excitement up the crevasse between
	her legs.  Why did women have to have this stupid hole right up the
	very center of them, she thrashed bitterly as she knew the inescapable
	truth that it was her father, his breath sour on her lips, who was
	pressing his huge member over her face.

	Why did he like it in her mouth?  It was so incredibly disgusting this
	way.  To have to take your father's big hard dick into your mouth.  He
	forced it in, pulling her lips and teeth apart the way he would to
	examine a horse.  His balls knocked against her chin.  She spit and
	choked but still he did not relent as he shoved his long pointed spear
	into her soft throat.  He loved to watch his cock disappear into the
	face of his daughter.  He loved making women eat it.  He loved
	watching it disappear into the hole in the middle of their faces, even
	more than he enjoyed sinking it into their cuntholes.

	This way he could be sure only he got the real pleasure.  He closed
	his eyes and sank it deep in her throat again, holding her by her
	luscious boobies.  Her hair flowed over the riverbank and into the
	water.  He dreamed of being able to tie her up down here so that
	whenever he felt like sinking it in her, he could just come down here,
	open his pants, spread her legs or force her to open her mouth, and
	sock it to her.

	She gagged on the wicked cone thrusting down her throat as if it
	wanted to be completely swallowed.  The thrusting quickened which
	meant he was near his coming.  She shuddered and retched at the
	thought but there was no way of escaping taking his semen down her
	throat.  He held her firmly pinned by her arms and by the way he sat
	on her upper chest.  She felt like a doll, limp, just a bunch of
	boobs, a mouth with a flowing dick in it, and somewhere down there, a
	mass of cuntflesh which was not at present being used.

	He felt his tide rising in him, and jiggled her boobies in his hands
	behind him, like melons they were, and jogged up and down faster on
	top of her face, sinking his cock into her small compliant mouth--open
	like as if it were a dickhole, made expressly for his dick.  He kept
	bouncing it into her and the tip of his cock felt the smooth firm
	slimy quilted throat tissue, while the shaft of his cock felt the
	pulling of the walls of her mouth as he yelled, "Suck me off!  Suck me
	off you bitch!" and gave her tits a hard tweak.

	He sank it into her and then was riding on a floating ocean of come.
	The excretion filled her throat while the penis continued to sink in
	her throat, and she didn't want to swallow but she couldn't get up,
	and lying down the ugly foul syrup began to slide down her throat
	while he whipped his now soft penis against the walls of her mouth.

	He left the soft dick slip out of her mouth while she sat there
	grimacing and swallowing and spitting up.  He laughed at her.  She had
	semen all over her lips, and some even on her nose.  Her nose and chin
	were all red and chaffed from where his groin had rubbed against her.

	"My little come machine.  All my very own.  No one else is allowed to
	use it.  Only me," he was joking with himself.  He seemed to be very
	proud of his personal property.

	Lena was relieved that at least it was through for one day.  Would she
	be allowed to return to school now, she wondered.  No, he wouldn't do
	that.  He lay down on top of her, his back against her stomach, so
	that she couldn't get up, and he enjoyed the sunshine.  He played with
	his dick in the breeze, trying to stand it up and laughing when it
	fell over, waving away the flies.

	Beneath him, the back of her head was being ground into a rock, and
	his weight bore down cruelly on her hipbones.  She could feel the
	copper studs of his jeans digging into the soft flesh of her belly.
	With his boots he amused himself by pushing her legs farther and
	farther apart and thought about his daughter's cunt.

	Her cunt was sweet, and so young and tender, it reminded him of the
	yellow-green buds coming out on the trees now.  Her cunt was like a
	sour apple that you wanted to bite into just to taste the sourness
	exploding on your tongue.  It made you wince, the taste was so wry.

	He sprang off of her, and then pulled her up off the ground.  She was
	facing him, staring at the big ugly thing that was achingly big again.
	He needed to be satisfied again, he needed to be relieved of that wad
	of desire and passion that was pushing out of his jeans and the only
	thing could relieve that pushing passion was to find a hole
	sufficiently enticing to him.

	He tied her to the trunk of a willow tree whose branches almost came
	down to the ground.  He tied her like a heifer, with a rope around her
	neck, but he fixed the rope to the tree only three feet off the
	ground, forcing her to bend over.  Lena was only five feet tall.

	"Papa, no!  No, Papa!  Please!  Please let me go!  Please don't.
	Please!  I'm scared!  I'm frightened!  You shouldn't do this!  God
	will hate you!  Please!  NO!  PLEASE!" she cried, tied to the tree
	stooping over.

	He laughed.  She sounded like a heifer braying at being separated from
	its mother.  He lifted her skirt and watched her shake and cry in her
	panties for a while.  Women's underwear always fascinated him, and now
	he was curious to watch her ass move in her child's white cotton
	panties.  They came up to her waist, and they had a damp, darker spot
	at the crotch where her female secretions gathered, which no washing
	could entirely eradicate.

	Stooping over, her breasts were hanging again, and it was almost with
	tenderness that he made her remove her blouse.  Her boobies hung down
	like a cow's waiting to be milked and he crawled underneath her to
	swat at and suck and play with them while he put the toe of his shit-
	encrusted boot at the crotch of her panties and forced the panties
	into the entry of her cunt.  The toe of his boot went part way in too,
	and she sobbed and shook while he thus abused her, all of which made
	her fine large boobies shake like jello.  He had a weird thought: he
	wished he were a woman so he could try to insert her boobies up his
	cunt, and he thought if he were a woman that is want he'd want to do.

	He slid out from under her and stood up behind her.  He pulled her
	panties down to he knees and pulled her dress over her head so he
	wouldn't be distracted by her boobies and her cries anymore.  He would
	just concentrate on her rear dark meat.  And it was fine.  He just
	watched and surveyed it for awhile, allowing his excitement and desire
	to grow unbearably.

	In her fear and far-advanced state of hysteria, she couldn't stand
	still.  Tied by the neck, all she could do was shake her ass like a
	cow, and he watched, fascinated, by the movement of the body.  The
	flesh flowed into her waist, making shadows there, and then spread way
	out again into a fine pair of female hips, smooth and curvaceous.  The
	curve continued on into a well-rounded ass, flowing up, out and over;
	and sliding into the all-enticing black crack of her ass.

	Her pussy hair peeped out between her thighs and he brought her hands
	around and attached them to her moons and made her pull on them so
	that the mound of cuntflesh too protruded.  It was pink and gaping.
	The labia looked like a little woman's little mouth pursed in a kiss.
	Her slender little fingers pulling on her fleshy behind pointed in the
	direction in which he was to go.

	"Pull more!  Pull harder!  Stretch open your little hiney, honey, so
	that Daddy can put his cock right into your cunt.  There, how does
	that feel?" And he stuck the slick wet head of his cock right up
	against the mouth of her open, offered, gaping pussy.

	Her hands on her ass, her head tied close to the tree, she felt her
	father's organ enter her cunt, forced open against her will.  She
	thought for a split second of an hour ago, sitting just like the other
	kids in a schoolroom, at a desk, passing notes and giggling, learning
	about triangles.

	Now the shaft of her father's cock was slowly forcing its way up her
	cunt, under a willow tree by the river, while she, the part of her
	that was really Lena, the part of her that had a name and thoughts and
	reason, was tied by the head to the tree.  She felt split in two.

	As if there were two things going on: Lena, the reasoning part of her,
	was swooning in shame and humiliation and despair.  Lena's cunt lived
	on top of her legs which slipped farther and farther apart to
	accommodate the huge apparatus her father had hanging between his
	legs.  His cock and balls were larger than Brad King's.  She really
	had to open her legs wide to get him in, and she had to pull apart her
	buttocks to allow him the kind of entry he needed.  It was better than
	simply having him shove it up her and tear her apart along the way.

	He loved to sink into cunt outside in nature.  He loved to sink into
	cunt so young and so taboo as his own daughter that even his friends,
	if they knew, would be shocked and disapproving.  And envious.  He
	wished Jimmy Nails could see him now, or that fat paunchy self-
	righteous school principal, Mr. Rice.  He imagined Lena's math
	teacher, Mr. Nolte, bald at thirty-five, saying, "Mr. Hanson, I really
	cannot let you take your daughter out of class unless I know what you
	intend to do with her."

	And then his wide eyes stared as he saw her stoop over under the
	willow tree and part her ass so her cunt would get open and wet, so
	that her father could stuff his very willing and big cock into her,
	and into her, and into her again.

	He loved to withdraw it all the way and then jam it back all the way
	in, feeling the whole delight of re-entry from the tip to the bottom
	of the shaft again. He felt her clit go by--it felt like buttered
	bread, sliced, and his cock felt like the knife that was buttering it.
	He felt like a creature, half-man, half-beast, fucking his own twelve-
	year-old daughter.  He felt like an old dog, and it was like an old
	dog, hoary, dirty, crusty with old come, lots of old come from lots of
	women, when he took a deep breath and shot his wad straight up into
	her cunt.  He grabbed his shaft and his whole body rode his cock to
	glory.

	He left her there that day, and many other days following.  When he
	left her, he tied her to the tree more securely with her legs wrapped
	around it.  He would come back at the end of the day to fuck her some
	more.  He just couldn't get enough of her.

	She missed the last day of school because he wouldn't let her go in.

	The hours she spent tied to the tree, her "hitching post" as her
	father laughingly called it, were passed fantasizing about revenge.
	How could she go on living like this?  Her father thought of her
	merely as a cunt, a receptacle for his male organ.  Her mind,
	meanwhile, held cruel thoughts of dismemberment.  She thought how she
	would tie him down and take the knife used for gelding the hogs.

	But then she would hear the pick-up drive up, and she was torn between
	shame and anxiety and hope that it would be someone else, wandered
	down to this lonely bend in the river, and relief and disgust and
	shame, and hopelessness, when she would hear his familiar grunting
	laugh as he raised the curtain of willow branches to find his own
	personal, private cunt, tied up and waiting to service him.  It was
	always with a sigh of relief that he unzipped his pants and let out
	the cockled creature that was cramped in the confinement of denim.

	Every night, after such days of humiliation, she went out to the barn.
	Late at night when her parents were asleep, or her father was away
	catting around.

	Lena's mother seemed to have forgotten what she had practically
	witnessed that one night when her husband had simply dragged his
	daughter out to the barn.  Or Mrs. Hanson's brain could not digest the
	information.  Perhaps she thought that she had just imagined it, or
	perhaps her own personal freedom from her husband's sexual attention,
	after twenty years of fear, rose above her concern for her daughter's
	safety.  In any case, Mrs. Hanson did not mention the incident to
	either husband or daughter, and she did not ask where Lena spent her
	days.

	Lena was quite obsessed with fucking Red Beauty now.  And she also had
	turned to Black Pride for additional fucking-revenge.  The horses had
	a strange partnership with her.  Black Pride looked on with horse-like
	curiosity, his black eyes glinting in the starlight of the barn, as
	the young girl slipped off all her clothes to meet her animal lover in
	the nude.  She brushed Red Beauty all over with the currycomb to make
	him beautiful and get him in the mood.  The horse's sweat from the day
	flicked off onto her own skin and sometimes she licked the drops of
	horse sweat off with her tongue, savoring the sour taste.  She loved
	to play with the stallion's furry sheath which housed his cock.

	It was like a little furry bunting on a most slick, and unshy animal.
	When the horse's penis started to protrude, called forth by her able
	hands, it looked like a slick roll of candy, like the rolls of candy
	she bought in the store sometimes, except that it was much thicker.
	It was so slick, much slicker than a human dick, that it was hard to
	hold it in her hands and she liked to stab in into her mouth, and to
	think of the wonder that she held a creature, a non-human by the cock
	in her mouth, and felt less disgust than she did at the same act
	forced upon her by her father's member.

	Sliding Red Beauty's cock up the hole between her thighs, completely
	nude, she let her hair sweep in the straw below and she caressed her
	own lovely breasts.

	"I hate you, I hate you," she whispered in the dark to her absent
	father.  "I hate you so much I prefer taking the dick of your best
	horses, your horses, father, your stallions, your stallions stick
	their cocks in me.  I take their long wet horse dicks in my mouth and
	I enjoy it more, I enjoy it!  I enjoy it more than your fat, horrid,
	hairy, smelly excuse for manliness could ever bring me."

	Red Beauty had been mounted by her so many times that he had evolved a
	way of pulling his cock in and out of her so that he could actually
	come too.  The slick red penis, like a dog's, couldn't get entirely
	inside her, but the dick was stabbed in and out, while she clung to
	his underside, spreading her legs wide.  The horse knew its own
	pleasure, too, she knew.  For when it came, in a rush of horsecome, it
	whinnied and shook, and kicked up on its hind legs a bit, taking her
	for a ride and attempting to shove it into her woman's inadequate
	vagina a little further, knowing the bizarre excitation of fulfilling
	the sexual urge with a creature not of your own species.

	Black Pride she treated a little differently.  Red Beauty looked on
	curiously, and with a little jealousy, she thought, the first time she
	made sexual advances to the second stallion.

	Black Pride was very well hung, with balls that protruded around the
	sheath of his cock.  Black Pride was a more high-strung creature, and
	Lena was afraid he might not allow her intimate touch.  She approached
	his genitals very slowly, stroking him with the curry brush all over,
	first, braiding his mane, calming and exciting him at the same time.
	She spoke to him, in a low, fervent whisper, telling him the story of
	how her father raped her daily, and that the fornication of beast and
	daughter was a fitting revenge on a man whose soul was lower than a
	dog's The horse's big white teeth grinned in his mouth and she knew he
	was ready and willing and able for she saw the bright red glint of his
	dick between his black balls.  She slipped under his belly.  Again, he
	was so tall she could bend over underneath him, and she back onto his
	cock, holding her cunt open with her hands, the way her father had
	taught her.

	She thought of her father thrusting into her as she stood bending
	over, tied to the tree like an animal.  It gave her pleasure to open
	her cunt now to an animal tied by the neck in a stall.  Horse-cock
	slid into human pussy with great ease, as Red Beauty watched from the
	next stall.  Black Pride's cock was not quite as long as Red Beauty's,
	but it was thicker by far, and she knew greater pleasure, for he could
	almost put it all the way in, and it really filled her up.

	She thought of the slickness of the horses' cocks and wondered why
	men's cocks weren't like that.  Human male cocks were all dry, and
	human males were so dumb they didn't know how to excite a cunt to make
	it wet first.  They just shoved their dicks in and thought women
	enjoyed it!

	Lena was coming with wonder at how anything less than this slick wet
	fuck, in the stable perfumed with fresh straw and horse and cow dung,
	could excite her.  Her father's bumbling fumbles down by the river,
	could not compare with the adeptness with which his stallions, which
	he rode out over the plain every day, stood still for his daughter, as
	she opened her cunt and spread her legs wide and stuck her stuff down
	over the horse's willing cock.  She slid in and out, back and forth,
	up and down, feeling the horse's delicious wet dick part her cunt down
	the middle like a stripe of pleasure all down her body.  When the
	horse creamed inside her, she creamed too, and when she put her
	panties on to sneak back to the house, horse come from her cunt filled
	her panties with cream as she walked.

Chapter 4

	The day her period was a week overdue and she knew she wasn't going to
	get it was the day she boarded a bus for Iowa City and ran away from
	home.

	She had been a woman now for a few months and had tried to do some
	reading on the subject of prevention of pregnancy and on the
	biological procedure of impregnating a woman.  Biology class was vague
	on the subject, and the information she could glean from the
	pussyfooting texts in the school library was not very informative.

	But when her period showed absolutely no sign of showing up, it did
	not take a doctor to fill her up with the certain knowledge that she
	was pregnant.

	She was frightened.  What would her father do if he found out?  Would
	he abort her?  Loose interest in her?  And then of course was the
	question of the child's father.  She did not let her mind touch that
	grim subject at all, until she had stolen her mother's cookie jar
	money, all of thirty-two dollars, and walked down the dusty road into
	town.  Her father was out in the fields working that morning, and her
	mother simply didn't notice.

	She knew the stationmaster would remember that Lena Hanson had bought
	a ticket for Iowa City, and that sooner or later he would get around
	to reporting it to her father, once her absence was discovered.  So
	she bought a ticket first for a small town near Iowa City, and then
	bought another ticket on the bus for the city.  She had never been to
	a city before.  In fact, she had never been on a bus before, never
	been out of her own hometown.

	Ret, her older brother, lived in Iowa City, and she thought vaguely
	about trying to find him.  But she wasn't sure if he would help her,
	listen to her story and believe her, or simply return her to her
	father.  She would work out that problem when she got there, she
	decided as she allowed herself to sink into free slumber, when had she
	ever felt so free in her life?  she wondered in her dreams, as the bus
	rolled out onto the highway parting the fields of young growing wheat.

	It was with great pleasure that she opened her eyes once just as the
	bus was passing her father's own fields.  She could see him, as she
	slumped behind the tinted window of the bus, bending over, struggling
	with a root that lay in the tractor's path.  She could see the bulge
	of his sexual apparatus and she laughed snidely and her hands
	instinctively went down protectively over her crotch until the bus had
	rolled on.

	The man sitting in the seat beside her raised his eyebrows at the very
	luscious young girl, fully developed, with lovely breasts and arms and
	thighs, holding her crotch with her hands.  He turned a page of his
	newspaper and decided he would talk to her later on, for now, he saw,
	she had fallen asleep in the same position.

	She had horrible dreams: of being in a cramped, filthy apartment that
	smelled of her mother's boiled cabbage.  She was lying down with the
	lower half of her body naked and her knees raised as a hideous old
	woman tried to extract a baby from her cunt.  She was asking the old
	woman if it were possible for a human girl, a woman to become
	impregnated by another species, say, by a horse.  The old woman didn't
	answer.  She just kept pulling at something that was stuck in Lena's
	cunt.

	Lena kept asking and asking, but all she heard was the old woman's
	wheezing and cackling.  Lena felt something hard, like a hoof, kick
	against her stretching, straining thighs and she asked again, "Could a
	woman couple with a horse and have a ..."

	"Could a couple live in a house?" the man beside her was repeating.

	She wakened to find it nighttime.  The bus was pulling into a city.
	She knew it was a city because there was so much noise and motion all
	around them, and for as far as she could see there were bright
	shifting lights.

	"You were talking in your sleep," the man said.  "You were asking
	something about if a couple could live in a house.  My name's Bill.
	Where are you going?"

	"Um, Iowa City," she said.  "To visit my relatives.  Are we here," she
	turned to the window.

	"Almost," he said.  He was a handsome, friendly looking man.  He
	carried a leather attach_ case and he spoke to her as if she were his
	age, which made her feel very grown-up.  She was grown-up, she thought
	ironically.  She was going to have a baby, or rather, an abortion.

	"We're still in the suburbs.  But we'll be in Iowa City soon.  I'm
	getting off there too.  Will your relatives be meeting you at the bus
	stop there?" he asked.

	"N-no," she said.

	"Then perhaps I could accompany you for a while, until they come to
	pick you up.  I could help you get a cab, or find a phone."

	"Thanks.  Maybe," she said.  She had to think fast now.  She didn't
	know what her plans were going to be.  She looked slyly at this man
	named Bill now, wondering if he would help her if she confided in him.
	Maybe he could tell her where she could go to get an abortion, and how
	much it cost.

	When they got into Iowa City proper, she allowed him to take her into
	the bar across from the bus station.  She had made a stop in the
	ladies room and put on some make-up that a girlfriend had given her as
	a joke for a birthday present last year.  She had never before had
	occasion to wear it.

	When she came out of the bathroom, she walked over to where Bill
	waited for her at the bar.

	"Well," he said when he saw her.  "I bet they won't even ask you for
	an I.D. now."

	He was right.  They served her a martini, which was what he was
	drinking, without carding her.

	"Just how old ARE you?  For the record's sake," he asked her,
	whispering in her ear.  In her jean skirt and red blouse and nice
	sandals, all filled out with her lovely buxom, womanly form, she
	looked quite adult.

	"Eighteen," she said.

	"That's old enough," he replied judiciously ordering two more
	martinis.  He knew of course that she was lying.

	After a few martinis they were quite good friends, and she didn't even
	flinch when he slid his hand right up her skirt to her thighs.

	"You're not new at this, are you?" he smiled.  He had a cute wispy
	blond mustache and he didn't seem so old to her anymore.

	"What do you do?" she asked him.  "Why are you in Iowa City tonight?"

	Bill said, "I'm a traveling salesman, honey.  I sell soaps and
	perfumes, and anything else a lady might like, door to door.  Iowa
	City's my home base.  I've come home for a little rest spell before
	hitting the road again.  Do you have anywhere to sleep tonight little
	honey?  Looks like your folks didn't know you were going to be on this
	bus."

	"Look, I do need a place to stay," she admitted.

	It wasn't until they had helped each other down the streets, to a
	crummy side street near the train station, and up a flight of foul-
	smelling stairs and into his furnished one room, that she confessed to
	him her real need.

	"I'm in trouble.  You know, my boyfriend got me in trouble.  And I've
	come here to Iowa City to ... get rid of it.  Can you tell me where to
	go?  What to do?" she asked.  She didn't even sound or feel pathetic
	as she asked for this stranger's help and advice.  She was sitting
	quite comfortably, one leg over the arm of a moth-eaten chair, as he
	mixed them some more martinis in an empty apple juice jar.

	"Ah," he said debonairly.  "In trouble.  Boy trouble.  Well, I'm just
	glad to know that I'm not the first, in your case, to be corrupting
	the ..." he eyed the space between her spread legs, "morals of a
	minor."

	"Can you help me?" she asked.  She massaged her boobs under her blouse
	and stretched coyly, looking at him from under lidded eyes.

	He got up and wrote down a name and address on a piece of paper.
	"Take the number one bus to Grove St., about twenty minutes from here.
	Say you know a friend of Gina's."

	"Thanks," she said, tucking the slip of paper in her bra.

	"Let's go to bed," he said.

	They both climbed joyously into the big old springy double bed.  It
	was high off the ground and the springs were so old they sagged all
	over.  It was like trying to lie down in soft cheese, and they laughed
	and giggled and pulled each other's clothes off.

	Bill exclaimed at the softness and hugeness of her tits.  Even for an
	eighteen-year-old, she was well developed.  He couldn't touch her
	boobs enough with his face and tongue, rubbing his cheeks against them
	and licking them all over.  He wanted to rub his feet on her boobs and
	his stomach and arms, and of course his cock which grew hard as he
	rolled back and forth in the valley between her boobs.

	They kissed, their tongues exploring each other's mouths, while she
	let her hands slip down and run all over his veined cock and tickle
	his hairy balls.  She liked to squeeze his balls in her hand, gently,
	and feel the one ball roll into the other.  She wondered if she could
	make them switch sides.

	Meanwhile, he seemed content to kiss her mouth with his tongue,
	sticking it way in deep, running over her teeth.

	She thought he would never turn his attention to her more pressing
	parts; he avoided touching below her waist at all with his hands.  She
	wondered if something was wrong with him, and checked once quickly
	with her eyes.

	No, his penis looked all right, large and hard.

	Suddenly, with the forthright understanding of a twelve-year-old, she
	sat up in bed and took his head in her hands.  "Haven't you ever
	fucked a girl before?  Is this the first time?"

	He blushed in shame.

	"How old are you?" she asked.

	"Twenty-two," he said.

	She put her tongue between her lips and shook her head in coy dismay.
	Her boobs shook too in sympathy and he dove for them, sucking them,
	pulling them around either side of his head.

	She let him play that way a while longer, then she pushed his hands
	away and said, "Are you ready?"

	"Sit back there, no farther away.  Way back, at the foot of the bed
	there, and just watch, so you get accustomed to what you see.  When
	you want what you see, come and get it," she whispered.

	He positioned himself at the foot of the bed as she had commanded and
	watched her.  She propped the pillows up behind her so she could lie
	back comfortably.

	She pulled down her white panties and spread her legs with her knees
	bent so he could take his first look at live female pussy.  But she
	found that staring at his youthful fuzzy mustache distracted her so
	she closed her eyes.

	She was thinking of the horse, Red Beauty, and his long slimy dick,
	when she parted her pussy with her fingers and showed him her meat.
	She stuck two fingers in, one on each side, and brought up for his
	viewing pleasure some of the redder, wetter inner meat.  She poked her
	fingers way deep inside.  They came up and out wet and shining and she
	made him lean over and sniff her fingers and lick them.

	She parted the labia to show him the sweet little canal of pussy flesh
	that invited him down into the thicker meat of the love cave.  She
	diddled with the labia, swatting them with her fingers so they filled
	with the excretion of desire and sat up bold and hard.  The little nub
	of flesh between the labia she tweaked with her fingers.

	"Wait, let me," he said.  And he followed her directions like a
	willing pupil.  She had creamed and creamed again under his deft
	fingers when he finally withdrew his sticky hands, and said, "I want
	it now."

	"Take it baby, it's all yours," she said.  And she held her cunt
	parted with her fingers for him as he brought his dry big cock to her
	opening.  At first touch his cock became wet with her cunt-wetness and
	the big bulbous head of his cock started to slide right into her
	cuntmeat, like a kid being pushed off a slide.

	He sank into her, and his cock parted her warm meat like a knife
	sinking into tender steak.  He couldn't believe that it was his cock,
	his own aching, denied member, that could do so much so easily to this
	yielding pussy beneath him.

	She WANTED him to stick his fingers in her as he stuck his big cock-
	finger in and out of her, she wanted him to smell the stale, fishy
	odor of her cunt.  He could smell it as he turned away from kissing
	her mouth to stare down at the big animal--the red dick, that was
	taming her and making her melt like chocolate left out in the sun.

	It was so different to come into a girl's pussy after a lifetime spent
	coming in his own hand.  Her pussy was so ... soft and enclosed and
	slippery.  She gripped his dick with her pussymuscles tighter than he
	could ever grip with his hand, and she didn't let go.  It felt like
	some creature had attached itself to him and was sucking on him, and
	he let her pussy suck and suck and suck him until he lost control and
	spurted his thick white cream into the deep pussy-smelling cunt.

	They both sighed with pleasure, and soon after began touching again.
	He just could not get enough of her breasts, and he loved to watch her
	open her cunt to him from all different angles.  He couldn't believe a
	woman would get on her hands and knees and let him look straight at
	her open cunt and her ass.  It turned him on.

	In the morning neither of them was very rested.  Nevertheless, at
	noon, he swatted her out of bed.  He had to report to his office, and
	she had to go take care of her business.

	Gina was his sister, it turned out, and the abortion would cost one
	hundred bucks.  Lena almost cried when she heard this.  Bill had told
	her it might be expensive, but he hadn't known what the current going
	price was.  The price was always changing depending on the current
	status of the anti-abortion laws in the state.  She cried in Bill's
	arms that night, and he stroked her hair and told her not to worry.

	"But where am I going to get a hundred dollars?" she sobbed.  "I don't
	have any money left."

	"You can get a job he told her," trailing his fingers in her cunt.  He
	was quite bold now.

	"A job doing what?  I can't do anything," she said, writhing with
	pleasure.

	"They need a girl, to waitress, at the cafe down the street," he
	suggested, placing his mouth on her cunt and trying the pleasures of
	eating out a young girl for the first time in his life.  His tongue
	slipped way down deep inside her and she cried out in pleasure.  It
	was like a little dick, except much more acrobatic than a dick,
	slipping and sliding inside her now, like a seal.  He stuck one or two
	fingers inside her now too, while he continued the manipulations with
	his tongue.  One finger plied inside her cunt, making her clit stand
	up tall and salute, while another lesser-privileged finger, stayed on
	duty at the fleshy mound between her labia making her come in two ways
	at once.

	She couldn't let such sincerity go unnoticed.  She promptly sat up,
	turned around and licked his hard cock with her hard, flattened
	tongue.  She licked the cock starting at the bulbous head and straight
	down the underside of it, holding the pleased creature between steady
	fingers.  After such rubbing had strengthened the hardness of the cock
	even more, making it stand up even straighter, she placed her lips
	over the top of the penis, so that the slick head of the dick slid in
	and out of her mouth while her hands frenzied him up and down.

	Her fingers pumped the white cream up the shaft while her soft firm
	lips sucked the stuff out of him and slurped it up.

	The next morning she went down the street to go to work.  The train
	station district was rough and dirty, and she only wore an apron for
	two hours before she turned it back in and walked down the street
	stumbling and crying She couldn't make change fast enough for the
	rough customers, and she dreaded their snide remarks and pinches on
	her behind.  She was not cut out to be a waitress and she'd made only
	a quarter in tips.  At that rate, she'd have the baby before she could
	get the abortion.

	She waited for Bill in his room all that day.  He came home with bad
	news.  He was leaving for Tulsa, Oklahoma the next morning.  He
	assured her that she could stay in his room in the meantime.

	He took her out that night to cheer her up.  He'd just gotten paid.
	He took her to one club and then another that he knew.  They ended the
	night in a place one flight down where the drinks were cheap and the
	clientele bawdy, drunk and bizarre.

	Women were dressed up in plumes and sequins and tight gowns and they
	sat all over the men and danced with them as if they were making love.
	The men drank and roared and were loud with their lewd jokes.  There
	was an act coming on and everyone was waiting for it with great
	anticipation.

	"From Mexico, Tequila," Lena heard one man say to another.  "Girl does
	it with a donkey!!!"

	"Really, man?  Shit.  Women are disgusting.  Shit.  That's one thing I
	can't wait to see!!" replied his friend, a hairy man with a big stain
	down the front of his white shirt.

	"I wonder what she gets paid for doing it," said Bill at her ear.

	Lena wondered too and already a plan was forming in her head.  She
	didn't say anything about it to Bill.  But she waited with interest
	for the act to begin too.

	The act, when it finally happened, was very disappointing.  At least
	Lena thought so.  The crowd didn't seem to be well versed in the art
	of fucking an animal, so they didn't seem to notice how Consuela, the
	Mexican senorita, faked it.

	Maybe they noticed and didn't care, pondered Lena, sipping her drink
	and watching Bill's face as it grew red with lasciviousness and he
	gripped her thigh.  Maybe the crowd felt they got what they paid for
	when they got excited by the mere idea of a woman fucking a donkey.

	For all Consuela did was come out in a kinky costume of leather, and
	high-heeled leather boots.  She wore a mantilla in her hair, and a
	veil, and she did a striptease.  Paring down slowly, in time to
	rhythmic music, to a black bra that revealed more of her long sleek
	boobies than it covered, and a g-string that split open her cunt and
	disappeared between her buttocks behind, she was quite sexy-looking,
	Lena had to admit.

	But Lena was more interested, professionally, in the donkey.  It was
	brought on and tethered to a post at the beginning of the act when
	Consuela started to strip.  She directed her striptease at the donkey,
	but he didn't seem to notice or care when she spread her legs in front
	of his nose and played with her cunt for him.

	Lena couldn't even see that the donkey, a dirty, but not old thing,
	got hard.

	Then after much splitting of her cunt and her ass, and playing with
	her tits for the audience's sake, Consuela sat down on the donkey's
	back, her open cunt flat against his hide, and rode him around back
	and forth on the stage while she squirmed and let on that even this
	felt good.

	Finally, as the hoots and hisses of the crowd urged her on, she
	crawled beneath the grey creature and locked her legs up around his
	back.  Her back lay on the floor and she pretended to touch the
	donkey's genitals with her hands.  She smiled a big wet grin at the
	audience and said, "Oh, he is so big.  I want his donkey-dick in me."
	And as the audience whistled and yelled, she moved her hips up as if
	she were inserting a dick in her, and then she moved back and forth.
	But all the action was really hidden from view.  It was just a
	simulation, Lena decided, though Consuela brought the house down with
	applause.  She went through the tables after that, in her g-string and
	bra, collecting tips in a hat.

	"How did you like that?" Bill asked afterwards, as they made their way
	home supporting each other through the hot dry streets.

	"It was okay," said Lena nonchalantly.

	"Think you'd ever like to do it with a donkey?" he asked.

	"Nope," she said.

	He left the next morning for Tulsa saying she was welcome to stay
	until he got back and he was sure she'd find some way to make money.
	She kissed him goodbye and then went back to bed.  That afternoon she
	managed to let a shop clerk allow her to buy some clothes; a pair of
	sexy panties, black with a slit at the crotch, and a bra with open
	holes for the nipples to slip through, on credit.

	She took these with her back to the Black Pussycat, the bar where the
	donkey act was playing.  She knocked on the basement door and was told
	the Black Pussycat didn't open until ten.

	"I'm here to see Consuela," she said, and finally she was admitted
	after she told the voice she had some money for Consuela.

	The Mexican girl, (Lena doubted whether she was really even Mexican),
	was sitting in her dressing room eating dinner.  She listened
	curiously to the strange girl's proposal to take over her act for a
	few nights.

	"How much do you make a night?" Lena asked.

	"I make about fifty bucks a night," Consuela blew blue smoke out of
	her reddened lips.  She was dressed in a torn and dirty silk kimono
	and she sat amid a dressing room full of clothes: feather boas, more
	dirty silk kimonos, g-strings in all colors and the like.

	"The bar gives me twenty-five and I make the rest in tips," Consuela
	said.

	"I'll give you the twenty-five bucks every night for a week, if you'll
	let me do the act and collect all the tips," the confident Lena said.

	"How do I know you can handle this act?" asked Consuela coolly.  This
	girl looked mighty young to her.

	"Where's your donkey?  I'll show you." said Lena.

	Consuela took Lena around to the back where there was a shed in the
	yard.  The donkey, whose name was Pepe, was in there munching on his
	dinner.

	With one adept movement, Lena dropped her panties and lifted her
	skirt.  Then she was down on the ground under Pepe.  Her hands
	quickly, gently stroked his furry sheath, so much smaller than the
	cock-holders of her beloved stallions back home.

	Before the donkey could realize that someone new was playing with him,
	his sheath had released his tiny little cock, all slick and red like a
	stallion's, but so much smaller!

	Lena laughed at the thought of how cushy this job would be, as she
	relaxedly pulled her cunt up over the donkey's cock and began going up
	and down.

	Consuela stared wide-eyed and finally said, "Okay!  Okay!  My god, you
	can stop now!  I believe you can do the act!"

	Lena dropped back down to the ground and rolled out from under the
	donkey.  Pepe seemed to look at her with some malevolence in his red
	donkey eyes, because she had excited him so far, more than he had been
	excited in a long time, as Consuela did not allow him to mate with
	females of his kind while they were on the road, and yet she had not
	brought him to ejaculation.

	Lena laughed and patted him on the head.  "I'll see you tonight Pepe.
	You'll get another chance." She shook hands with Consuela on the deal,
	and then Consuela took her to meet the proprietor of the house and
	explain the change in the act for the next week to come.

	That night, or rather the next morning, for the donkey act didn't go
	on until one in the morning, Lena was all set.  She was a little
	nervous, she had to admit, because she had never performed in front of
	people before, not even in a school play.

	But she reminded herself what the money was for: an abortion, and
	freedom, a beginning of a new life of independence and freedom, far
	away from the man who first poured a male's smelly corruption into her
	body and left her with no peace in life.

	Lena began her act differently than Consuela.  Lena came on in a filmy
	black nightie that just barely came down to the top of the black
	briefs.  She wore high black heels and she pretended to be waiting for
	her husband to come home.  She pretended to be dusting her home with
	Consuela's big black feather duster, and she raised her black negligee
	and dusted her big swaying boobs while the audience whistled and
	licked its lips.  Then she bent over and showed the crowd the split in
	her black panties and she pretended to dust what lay between the
	split.  She indicated to the audience that she sure wished her husband
	would come home because she wanted to ... and she made gestures with
	the handle end of the duster which left no doubt about what she wanted
	to do.

	The crowd roared with laughter when the donkey walked on stage and
	Lena pretended to express love and delight that her darling husband
	was home.  She caressed the donkey's face and ears, murmuring "Pepe"
	in his scruffy ears.

	She removed the nightie and swung her breasts before the donkey.  The
	audience loved the way her dusky nipples hung out, exposed, at the end
	of her long white tits, still partially encased in the lacy black
	brassiere.

	But the crowd was getting restless.  They were urging her on.

	She winked at them and sat down behind the donkey, with her knees
	spread.  The audience couldn't see her head then, concealed behind the
	animal, but they could see, quite clearly, one of her little white
	hands as it massaged first the hairy sheath of the animal's genitals,
	and then the slickened red dick as it grew and grew out of the dull
	fur.  The audience clapped louder and louder as the donkey dick grew.

	The audience could also see quite clearly what she was doing with her
	other hand, which was sunk deep into her cunt.  They could watch her
	rooting in and playing with herself.

	One man couldn't restrain himself (the music too was very slow and
	rhythmic) and he ran up to the edge of the stage and put his hand out
	to her pussy.  His arm didn't reach though and someone pulled him
	down.

	Now it was time to do her stuff.  The donkey's cock was fully erect.

	She slid her body entirely underneath him and then, with the
	audience's eyes full on the erect red cock, she grasped the creature
	between her legs and slowly inserted the wet dick up her thighs, into
	her cunthole which she held open for it.

	The audience was entirely silent as, as if with one pair of eyes, they
	watched the slimy red donkey cock disappear into the cunt of the long-
	titted woman.

	She slid back and forth on it, allowing the red slimy erection to make
	itself seen by the audience each time, before she slid back down on
	it, and each time the audience cheered.  With one hand she massaged
	the belly of the animal, to calm him and make him stand still while
	she did the fucking.

	Now she was moving, sliding, up and down very fast.  It didn't feel
	like much to her.  It felt like Bill's little finger.  But the
	audience loved it and so did Pepe because suddenly she felt a little
	squirt of hot juice and the donkey had come inside her on the last
	plunge.

	Immediately she jumped and parted her cunt to let the crowd see the
	white donkey semen slipping out of her red cunt and across the slit of
	her black panties.

	They cheered.  Consuela, watching from the wings, clapped.

	Someone threw her a rag, and she wiped herself.  Then she descended
	down into the pit where the drinkers were, to talk with them, and let
	some of the more well-dressed men stick a finger or two up her now
	clean cunt, while she collected the greenbacks in an old top hat she
	had found in Consuela's dressing room.

Chapter 5

	In a week, Lena had made over $300.  Her act was a big hit.  Even
	Consuela was impressed.  Sunday she went to the house of the woman
	named Gina to have her pregnancy aborted.  She was terrified.

	She was too afraid to ask the woman if women could bear the fetus of
	an animal.  She felt awkward at the idea of having to explain about
	Red Beauty and Black Pride.  Other people wouldn't understand.  They
	would think it weird, strange, and abnormal, for a young girl to have
	made love with horses.

	Gina was a buxom, middle-aged woman with a red wig.  Not your typical
	mid-wife.  But she was efficient and businesslike, and in no time she
	had Lena off the table with the good news that she was pregnant no
	longer.

	"What was it?" Lena asked, fearfully.

	"What?" called Gina from the next room.  "You just lie there and rest
	for a while.  A couple of hours if you need to.  Try not to talk."

	"But, I mean, the baby, what was it?"

	"It wasn't much, honey.  I don't want to upset you, but it wasn't a
	healthy normal fetus.  It's just as well it didn't come into the
	world."

	"What do you mean?" called Lena trying to get up.  An incredible pain
	seared her thighs as she did so, and she immediately lay back down on
	the bed.

	"Just you rest.  I'll be back in a while with something for you to
	drink that will help you heal," Gina said, and she went away.

	While she lay there, Lena had a lot to think about.  What would she do
	next, for example.  Would she stay here in Iowa City?  What would she
	do when her money ran out again?  Could she possibly go back home, and
	take up that existence of swinging between being raped by her father
	and making it with his horses?

	She wondered if he would ever find out how she had gotten her revenge
	on him, right under his nose.  She thought for a moment too about Brad
	King.  She wondered if she'd ever see him again.  Did he ever think
	about her?  She didn't know.

	Life certainly was confusing.  There was no clear path to follow, as
	there was in her mother's day.

	Lena thought about her mother, giving birth to all those babies, and
	then watching them die, or grow up and leave home.  Had her father
	gone back to abusing and beating her mother now that Lena had left
	home?  Had he made any attempt to look for her?  She was surprised
	every morning when she woke up in Bill's nice big double bed in the
	room streaming with sunlight that it hadn't all disappeared in the
	night and that she wasn't home again, having to get up to feed the
	chickens and pigs, and dread the sound of her father's footsteps.

	She spent a couple of days taking it easy.  She bought herself some
	clothes with the remaining money she had and took herself out to a
	nice restaurant where she resolutely turned down the offers of
	admiring men.  Her money ran down and she had to go back to Consuela
	and the donkey act.

	Consuela explained that she was only going to be in town another week.
	After that she was moving on south.

	Lena's performance was greeted with enthusiasm by the audiences at the
	Black Pussycat, as before, and she made some more money--enough to
	open a modest bank account with.  She felt very proud of herself.

	On the last night of her act, Lena was startled by a familiar face in
	the crowd.  It was the face of Ret, her older brother.  He was sitting
	in the front row at a little private table and he had a woman with
	him.

	She was sure Ret hadn't recognized Lena as his own sister.  She wore a
	lot of makeup, and Ret thought she was back at home on the farm after
	all.

	She had a note sent to him, asking him to be sure that he stayed for a
	few moments after the act because there was a lady who wanted to see
	him.

	She watched him receive the note and look around the room for the
	silent lady and she saw the lady beside looking annoyed.  After that,
	Lena didn't notice much else.  She had to get it on with Pepe.  Pepe
	was ornery that night, as donkeys will sometimes be.  She had added a
	little costume for him to the act.  He wore a straw hat with holes cut
	out for ears, and a little pair of boxer shorts and a tie, so that
	when she called him her husband it drew more laughs from the crowd.

	Tonight Pepe's dick got bigger than it ever had before.  Pepe was
	growing, or learning or both!  Lena thought, as she crawled under him,
	being sure to lift the filmy black negligee she wore high so that it
	revealed her tits, which were as big as her thighs.  She opened her
	legs for Pepe.  He shoved his cock in her, and this time it felt as
	big as Bill's thumb.

	The audience gasped.  They had never seen a woman make it with an
	animal before, most of them.  And that a woman would do it
	voluntarily, for money, in front of others, was incredible.

	"Pepe, I like your dick," Lena crooned, going up and down on it.  "My
	little husband, why did you come home so late from work today?  Have
	you been seeing other women?" she asked him indignantly as she plunged
	on top of him, and the donkey brayed, and the audience laughed.

	After the donkey came, his white donkey semen dripping on the floor
	beneath her, to the audience's additional gasps, Lena went backstage
	for a moment to clean herself.  Then she came out again and went down
	into the pit to collect her tips.

	Often the men would like to put the bills on the corner of a table and
	make her pick up the money between her legs with her thighs.  She
	thought this was very silly, but they insisted so she did it.

	She still wore the costume from her act: the black nightie that came
	to her navel, the black see-through briefs with the slit at the cunt,
	and black high pumps.  She had forgotten about the presence of her
	brother and was feeling good tonight A black man put out a bill on the
	corner of his table.  She couldn't tell whose picture was on the bill,
	but the man was very good-looking and very well dressed.  He looked
	quite wealthy and he had a very fancy dame sitting beside him, so Lena
	went all out.

	Each time she approached the table with her open thighs, to catch the
	money, he moved the money farther back.  Each time he moved it back,
	everyone laughed.

	Finally, Lena put one foot high on their table.  Her black stockinged
	leg caused quite a sensation, as did the slit of the panties she wore.
	With her leg lifted, all could see quite clearly, and from close up,
	the pink slit of her own, that lay between the black slit of the
	panties.  Someone put a coin in the jukebox, and slow sexy music
	began.  Lena began to gyrate, with her leg raised, in time to the
	music.  It would be good for tips, she figured.

	The black man let her have the bill--it turned out to be a $100.00,
	and she moved on to the other tables.  Many of the men wanted to reach
	out and touch her pussy with their fingers--just touch it, and she let
	them.  The little timid fingers reaching out to her just vaguely
	tickled the outside of her cunt, and she had to part her labia with
	her own fingers, and dip her own fingers in her honeypot and make her
	own clit and labia painful with desire and lust, in order to give the
	men the kind of sight they wanted to see: a cunt that was wet and
	inviting, as if it were just waiting to be penetrated by one of their
	dicks, many of which we're hard under the tables of the little joint.
	Finally to a last drumbeat, and a last bump and grind, Lena hurried to
	the dressing room in back to change and make her appointment with her
	brother.  She hoped he was still waiting.

	He was.  She walked up to his table and said, "Excuse me, I am the
	lady who sent you that note.  May I join you?"

	The woman sitting next to Ret gave a cold look but Ret said, "Please
	do."

	"You don't know who I am," Lena said.

	"No," he gave a quizzical look at the woman.

	"I'm your sister, Lena." she said.  Ret almost fell off his chair
	backwards.

	"Good God," he said.  "It is Lena."

	She still had on her makeup from the act, but she was wearing street
	clothes now.  Still, the last time he had seen her was when she was
	seven and still a little girl.  Now, at almost thirteen, she had
	changed much, she guessed.

	"This is my wife, Carol," Ret introduced the two women.  Carol was
	very silent and not too friendly.

	"Where are you staying?  What are you doing in Iowa City?" Ret asked.

	Lena said "Let's go somewhere else where we can talk."

	They went back to Ret and Carol's place.  Ret and Carol lived in a
	trailer in a park outside of town.  They had a Ford station wagon.

	Inside the trailer they offered Lena a drink.  She accepted and then
	sat down happily.  She felt at home.  She started to ask Ret and Carol
	how long they had been married and what they did for a living and how
	they liked Iowa City and how long they had been there, and had they
	heard from their parents lately?

	But Ret and Carol plied her with questions without answering any of
	the ones directed at them.  Lena, under the influence of the drinks,
	spoke quite freely with them.  She even cried a few times in
	recounting her story of the last year.

	"Ret, you know how father always abused Mother?  How we would often
	hear her screaming in the middle of the night?  I know you remember
	because I know that's partly what drove you away when you were
	fifteen.  That, and there being no future on that farm.  Well, I'm
	only thirteen myself but I had to get out too.  On my own."

	"Ret, Daddy, well, he came to me as if I were a woman he met in one of
	his places.  You understand what I'm saying?  He raped me.  Many
	times.  He was making it a way of life.  I had to get out.  So I came
	here.  They don't know where I am, and I don't know what I'm going to
	do, but all I know is, it's so good to have found you brother, and you
	too, Carol.  Now I feel as if I have a real family.

	They put Lena to bed in the living room for that night.  Ret and Carol
	retired to their own end of the trailer.

	They stayed up late talking.  Mr. Hanson had put up a reward for
	Lena's return and they knew of it.  He was offering $700 for any
	information leading to the return of his daughter.  Ret and Carol
	needed some money--badly.

	In the years since Ret had left home, he had done many different
	things to make a buck, but mostly he had drifted.  He'd been a used
	car salesman, a door-to-door brush salesman, he'd sold encyclopedias
	and drugs.  He'd even made his way for a while on the strength of his
	poker game, and he'd let one or two girls support him with what lay
	between their legs.

	He'd been with Carol now for about a year.  They were pretty tight.
	Carol was a lot older than she looked.  She was 45, and her red hair
	was a wig.  She wore lots of makeup and had a petite figure, so that
	people often did not realize her age while she sat beside the youthful
	Ret.

	Ret liked Carol.  Perhaps he found in her the mother he'd never had in
	his own mother.  Mara Hanson had been no less able to defend or
	protect her son from her husband than she had been able to protect
	Lena.  And Roland Hanson had not been easy on his son either.  He had
	worked him hard, giving him no money, and often let him feel the lash
	of his riding crop or the rock of his fists.

	Unfortunately, Ret had not become a kind, understanding, compassionate
	person after all his suffering.  He had instead his father's brute-
	like nature.

	Unlike his father _ forced into by circumstances.  At least that was
	how he looked at it now.  He did not like to have to plot, as he did
	in bed now with Carol, against his own baby sister.  But he needed
	money.

	In the morning, Carol made them all breakfast: powdered scrambled eggs
	and instant coffee and grits.  It was in the morning that Lena
	realized Carol was not as young as Lena had originally thought.  She
	saw that Carol's red hair was a wig.  She saw the lines beneath
	Carol's thick make-up.  But the couple was very friendly to her and
	insisted that she go back into town and get all her things and come
	and stay with them.

	Ret drove her to Bill's house where she picked up her clothes.  He
	took her out to lunch at a nice place where she had beer and wiener
	schnitzel.  They went back to the trailer where Carol was waiting for
	them.  Carol had gone out that day and bought some rope.

	Ret had to run into his bedroom in the back where he broke down
	crying.  Carol had followed him in.  She held him in her arms and
	spoke to him lovingly.

	"Honey, I know she's your sister, but it's dog eat dog in this world,
	and it's either us or her.  You know how we could use those seven
	hundred smackers baby," she said.

	"I know," he sobbed into her tits.

	"We could take that little trip out west we been talking about for so
	long.  To the Yellowstone Park.  You know how much I want to see that
	geyser I been hearing about all my life since I was a little girl.
	And the Grand Canyon?  And you could meet up with that big poker game
	that happens in September.  Honey, it could mean our whole future,"
	she dried his eyes.

	They plied Lena with liquor and talk that night, and she fell asleep
	intoxicated on the couch again.  When she woke up in the morning she
	was tied and bound to the sofa.

	"What?  What's going on here?" she immediately began to yell.

	Ret and Carol awoke to her screams.  It was only seven o'clock in the
	morning.

	"Oh jiminy, the kid's screaming," said Carol.

	"Honey, what are we going to do?  I can't go out there and look her in
	the face," said Ret.

	"I'll take care of it," said Carol.  She slipped a torn bathrobe over
	her body, covering up her sagging breasts, and went out into the
	living room.  She surveyed the pathetic creature on the couch.

	Lena was beautiful, as beautiful as Carol had once been, many years
	before.  Lena's lips were a rosy red as she awoke in confusion, and
	the passion of her fear flushed her cheeks.  Her body spoke for
	itself, all curves and young firm flesh as she twisted in her bonds.
	Carol had tied her well the night before, securing her hands behind
	her back and tying her feet together, and then tying the whole to one
	of the legs of the couch.

	She gave Lena a glass of water to quench her thirst, and said, "Honey,
	the stiller you lie, the better it will be for you.  Now we're only
	doing what's best for you.  You know your brother would never harm
	you.  Just trust his judgment."

	But as Lena continued to squirm and holler, Carol was forced to gag
	her with a dishtowel from the sink.  Then she went back to Ret's bed.

	They left her tied up that day.  She was hungry and thirsty and she
	couldn't even get to the bathroom.  She was sobbing the whole time
	beneath her gag at her brother's treachery.  She didn't even know what
	he intended to do with her, not knowing about the reward her father
	had offered for her which Ret intended to collect.

	The only company she had all day was Carol's Irish setter.  It was a
	beautiful dog and though Carol had instructed it to make sure Lena
	didn't escape, the dog was very sympathetic toward Lena.  He came over
	and put his head on her breasts and looked up into her miserable eyes
	with his big, wordless dog eyes.  He had a beautiful red coat which
	Carol brushed every day.  His red hair reminded Lena of Red Beauty and
	she was at once comforted by the memory, and terrified.  Something
	told her this bondage was leading back to her life on the farm.

	When Ret and Carol returned that night they conferred in their
	bedroom.  Ret told Carol he had answered the ad in the paper that
	offered the reward, but he had not been able to speak directly to his
	father that day.  Mr. Hanson was apparently out of town following up
	another lead on his daughter.

	"Well, what do we do with her in the meantime, until we get in touch
	with your old man?" Carol asked.

	"Honey, I guess we just have to keep her here for a while," Ret said
	miserably.

	They returned to the living room, where Buster, the dog was sadly
	licking Lena's face which was wet with tears.

	They untied the gag for a while.

	Ret explained the situation: "Poor kid," he said to her.  Even untying
	her hands and holding one of them.  "You're sick," he told her.  "I
	tried to contact Dad to let him know where you are.  You need to go
	home.  You're too young to be out on your own yet.  You need to find a
	man to support you and help you.  I don't like to think of my very own
	sister doing ...what you were doing that night we found each other at
	the Black Pussycat."

	"If you hate to see that sort of thing so much, what the hell were you
	doing there yourself." Lena asked viciously, grabbing her hand away
	from him.  She hadn't related that part of the story to him about her
	and the horses, nor had she told him of the deformed fetus of her
	abortion, or of her abortion.

	"Some women have to do those things," Carol interjected.  "But they're
	bad women.  Not nice girls like you.  We were only there to see some
	of your brother's business contacts."

	"What's his business, prostitution?" sneered Lena.

	Ret and Carol exchanged a glance.

	Carol said, "She's too young to, understand.  Someday she'll thank us
	for rescuing her from a life like this, and for returning her home."

	"I will not, you hypocritical ... I don't know what the two of you get
	out of this, but I'll never forgive you, never!"

	"Tie the gag on her again," said Ret getting up from the couch and
	looking away.  Carol neatly replaced the gag.

	Before they left the house again the next day, Lena begged to be
	allowed to speak again.

	"Well?" said Carol after the gag was off.

	"When you inhuman robots leave me here like this, I can't even get to
	the bathroom!" protested Lena.  "I'll wet all over your couch."

	"Hmm, that's true," pondered Carol.

	"What can we do?" asked Ret.

	"Tie her up in the bathroom," said Carol simply.

	This they did.  They simply moved her place of bondage from the couch
	in the living room to the little bathroom where they tied her by the
	neck to the sink.  Carol had the additional bright idea of leaving
	Lena in her black panties with the slit from her act.

	"You can go anytime you want now, honey," she laughed to see the
	voluptuous girl, in her sexy black briefs, bound hand and foot,
	gagged, and tied to the sink.

	They closed the bathroom door and left the house.

	The day passed slowly.  Lena could hear Buster, the Irish setter,
	whimpering just outside the door and she whimpered back in answer.

	Buster kept pushing at the door.  Trailers are made out of plywood and
	cardboard, at least Ret's and Carol's was, and though they had locked
	the bathroom door, Buster soon had pushed it open.

	It was a great comfort to have some living creature who was
	sympathetic to her.  Lena sat on the tiled floor, miserable, and
	Buster came in and put his head between her knees.  She couldn't pet
	him so instead she rubbed her legs against him.  His coat was shining
	clean and his eyes were clear and intelligent looking.

	"Buster, Buster," Lena crooned.

	Buster licked her bare legs.  The dog nosed her crotch.  Dogs, unlike
	most people, do not have the sexual compunctions, taboos and niceties
	that humans have, and since Lena was tied up and couldn't push his
	head away, he nosed freely at her crotch, able for once to get his
	fill of the smell of the human female sex.

	Lena kept rubbing against his flanks with her thighs and the dog lay
	down between her legs.  His tongue was long and thick, much bigger of
	course than a human tongue.

	Lena's sex was catching on fire as she lay there with the living
	creature between her legs.  She thought of Bill, and his cozy
	furnished room.  She wished she had never accepted her brother's
	supposed offer of hospitality.  She had been so happy at Bill's.  She
	wondered when he would return, if she would still be here, or already
	back on her father's farm.  She had left Bill a note, with the address
	of her brother's trailer on it.  She dreamed of a gallant rescue, but
	knew that only happens in books.

	She thought of Brad King, and of that glorious night when he had found
	her riding Red Beauty, and of how he hadn't been shocked or ashamed or
	disgusted by her, but had wanted her for his own.  He had loved her,
	yes, truly loved her that night.  She wondered if he thought of her at
	all anymore.  He probably went out with so many other girls that she
	had become only a vague memory.

	She felt so sorry for herself, sitting locked in this john in a
	deserted trailer.  Her legs ached and she stretched them.  The slit of
	her bikini pants opened.  The dog put his cold nose up to the pink
	flesh revealed by the slit.

	"Oh, yes," Lena sighed.

	Buster sniffed and licked her.

	It was quite an unusual sensation.  The dog's tongue was rough and
	bumpy and he was able to lick her in a way she had never been licked
	before.  His tongue was able to cover the whole outside surface of her
	cunt with each lick.  But best of all was when he stuck his nose into
	the place between her legs and it sunk in.

	Then she groaned and shifted uneasily on the floor.

	She looked down into his dog eyes.  Did he know what he was doing?

	Buster flopped over on the floor so that he was lying on his side.
	Lying on the floor also, Lena noticed, was his dick, red and long like
	a sticky finger.

	Lena laughed to think that she might even find a way to get some
	loving here, in this ridiculous predicament of bondage that her
	brother had forced her into.

	The dog growled and licked her again and again.

	Her labia filled with the liquid of desire, and became red and taut.
	Underneath, in the inner cave, unseen, her clit too was excited and
	standing up straight.  Sometimes the dog's tongue went in and brushed
	against her clit.  It was so frustrating: she couldn't use her hands
	to direct his licks or open her legs wider to allow him greater entry
	Her ankles strained to loosen the bonds so that she could open her
	legs more, and she shifted her hips a little so he might slip his
	tongue into her sideways and touch the good part.

	The dog nosed aside the lace panty's edge and loosened her up with his
	dog's saliva.  He had crawled on top of one of her legs now and was
	trying to hump her knee.

	She laughed with sadness.  "Buster, Buster," she crooned under the
	dishtowel.

	She wondered if the dog would be able to actually mount her, and how
	she could aid him, and indicate to him to try.

	Well determination always finds a way.

	Buster was whining violently now, and his cock was larger.  He was
	inching up along her leg, and licking at her breasts now, and her
	stomach She slid down a bit on the floor.

	He lay against her chest while she rubbed her head against his head,
	and his penis slid into the black slit of the panties, and the pink
	slit of her cunt.

	The dog was growling and making all kinds of convulsive sounds.  Lena
	let him make all the movements.  Convulsively he slid his wet stick in
	and out of her human pussy.

	She felt a small dipstick being inserted into her.  It tickled the
	first two inches of her cunt.  The bottom of her cunt was aching to be
	pressed and filled and made wet.  But the dog couldn't help her out.

	Instead, the frankfurter like member slid resolutely up and down on
	her clitoris and in between her labia, while the dog whined.

	Oh, indeed, it did feel good, after all, Lena realized, stretching her
	knees on the bathroom floor.

	The dog's lower half moved furiously on top of her loins and she felt
	the little dipstick slicking her cunthole's opening, hitting all the
	crucial spots with his erect dogcock.

	The dog had an incredibly good time, and could carry on like this for
	hours.  The day passed with Buster mounting Lena, after first eating
	her out.  He would lie with his large head at her cunt and lick and
	lick and lick her.  His tongue didn't have the muscles or intelligence
	to explore inside her, so when she was worked to a frenzy by his
	licking of the rim of her pussy, he could climb up her body until his
	slick dipstick was at her hole, and he would jab it into her, making
	her come by the simple speeding motion of his cock at her clit.

	The room became filled with the smell of sex, of human pussy
	satisfied, and of dogcock brought to fulfillment.

	The dog would disappear for a few hours too, to get some water or lie
	down, but he would always return to see how she was and if she wanted
	more.  She always did.

	Ret returned that night alone.  He said Carol had some business to do
	and would return later.  He didn't say what her business was, but
	Carol was walking the streets looking for a few bucks.  She always got
	picked up.  For 45 she really looked alright.

	When Ret opened the door of the bathroom to look in on his sister, he
	was hit by a peculiar smell.

	"It stinks in here," he said.  "Couldn't even make it to the can," he
	muttered picking her up, untying her from around the sink and placing
	her in the bathtub.

	Lena started to try to hit out at him with her knees and body, so he
	tied her to the towel rack over the tub.  He only wanted to give her a
	shower.  She kept trying to lash out at him.  He pulled her tee-shirt
	off over her head and found himself staring at breasts like white
	melons.  Her nipples were hard like buttons, and the brown radius
	around the nipples were like big cocoa stains.

	Her navel was like a thumbprint in an otherwise flawless sculpture.
	Her belly sloped gently down into her black briefs.  There was a
	blonde trail of downy hair leading down her belly into her briefs too.

	She was holding her thighs tightly together so the two sides of the
	slit in panties came together and modestly covered what lay beneath.

	With her hands tied together and tied over her head to the towel rack
	she was pretty much helpless however.

	"I just wanted to give you a shower little sister," Ret licked his
	lips.

	He turned the water on and began to strip himself.

	Ret was twenty-five and burly like his father.  He was more well-hung
	than his father, Lena noticed through the water coming down in sheets
	over her face.  Ret's cock was big and hard.  His legs were hairy.
	His wild hair on top of his head matched the wild bush that grew
	around the tower of power coming at her at crotch level.

	"No!  No!" she tried to scream.  She could hear Buster whimpering
	outside the locked door.

	Ret looked at the beauty before him.  The water streamed down over her
	lovely neck, straining with fear, and down over her tits, swelling and
	shaking.  The drops hung suspended on the tips of her boobs and then
	fell, onto her smooth white stomach, or into the pearly hairs clinging
	to her briefs, or down onto her small feet.

	He tore her briefs off her to watch the water find paths through her
	pussy hair and down her legs.

	He backed her against the wall by laying his hands on her lovely
	melons and by putting his groin against her belly.  Her hands strained
	to break loose over her head.

	The water was pouring down on him too, as he forced her legs apart
	with his knees.  His cock found her pussy, and it found it big, soft
	and sweet.  She was all loose and open to him, as if she had been
	making love all day.  His cock just nudged the entrance to her cunt
	and suddenly he was all the way inside, stuffing her cave with his
	erect poker.

	He powered his heavy cock up her cunt and felt her lovely tits all
	along.  Her flesh was so soft and yielding, though she continued to
	fidget and strain, forcing him to take her out of the shower and tie
	her onto a chair, with her legs tied wide apart.

	Now he could get at her the way he wanted to.

	Her pussy lay open before him, its blond hair glinting with water.
	The red meat throbbed with terror before his cock which he swung in
	the air over her.

	He lowered himself and taking her tits in his hands and squeezing them
	fully, he rammed his cock way up into her pussy and her tied legs
	could not close to resist him.

	Again and again he stuffed it into her.  Her flesh was so young and
	sweet and firm, not like Carol's old tired flesh.  Lena writhed,
	naked, her hips and waist turning and twisting to get away from this
	onslaught, but still Ret's cock found its way home deep up inside of
	her and her flesh responded while her mind refused to.  Pussy muscles
	gripped the pole of male flesh poking into her, and the pole pounded
	harder and harder while the pussy muscles gripped.  He blasted his
	white stuff into her cockpit.  He pulled his dipstick out and there
	was a flood of come on the chair where she sat bound.  He liked to
	look at this sight and stepped away to observe, from the couch where
	he sat with his drink, his voluptuous baby sister, going on thirteen,
	with her legs tied apart, unwillingly revealing the charming sight of
	her pussymeat to him, all smeared with his come.

Chapter 6

	Carol and Ret were smiling the next morning when they came out into
	the living room where Ret had again tied up Lena for the night.  Carol
	had made fifty bucks the night before, for two jobs.  And Ret had
	contacted Lena's father.  He was coming to pick her up tomorrow.  He
	was coming to bring them the $700 tomorrow.  Everything was looking up
	for Ret and Carol.

	Lena trembled in fear all of that day.  Ret and Carol hung around the
	house, drinking and watching TV.

	All day Ret stole sly glances at his sister.  He couldn't approach her
	with his old lady there.  Carol would be insanely jealous.

	All day too, Buster kept trying to stick his head up between Lena's
	legs.  That made Carol jealous too, and she kept calling to him,
	"Buster, Buster, get away from her.  Why can you imagine," Carol
	continued talking to Ret now as if Lena weren't even there, "what kind
	of girl would make it with an animal?  I mean, a donkey?  Shoot, you
	gotta be desperate to do that sister.  Now take me, for instance, I do
	it with men for money.  I don't like to do it honey, but I do it for
	the money, and for you," she nuzzled Ret's lips.  She was sitting on
	his lap at one end of the couch while Lena sat tied down at the other
	end watching them.

	"I do declare, though, I'll sure be glad to have that blue pair of
	eyes out of my house.  I wish she'd quit staring at me, like that,
	honey.  Make her quit staring."

	Ret was staring at Lena himself, and in his drunken buzz, he didn't
	hear most of Carol's complaints.  He was licking his dry lips with a
	dry tongue and looking down at the crotch of Lena's jeans.

	"Honey!" Carol hit him over the head.  "I said I want to have a little
	fun around here.  We should be celebrating.  We've struck it rich.
	We're going out west.  Honey, let's have us a little party.  Let's
	call up some people--Ray and George, and maybe Sylvia could come over,
	and help us celebrate."

	"Why not?" said Ret lazily tipping his drink.  Carol got up to hit the
	phone and call up her friends.  The phone was in the bedroom.

	Ret went over to his sister, stood over her, and just let his hand
	dangle over her crotch.  He lifted her shirt and caressed her
	watermelon tits lavishly, until the titties were hot and excited.
	Then he pulled her shirt back down over her chest and walked away.
	Carol came back out from the bedroom gaily.

	"They're all coming over.  We'll have us a party.  Honey, get out the
	liquor.  I'll see if I can hunt us up some crackers and cheez whizzes
	or something."

	Sylvia and George and Ray arrived altogether in the front cab of Ray's
	pickup.  It was amazing to think they had all managed to fit into the
	cab together because George's enormous bulk--he must have weighed
	three hundred pounds--was equaled and surpassed by Sylvia's huge form.

	Sylvia was a truck driver and she must have weighed 350.  She was all
	rolls of flesh.  Every movement she made more rolls of fat tumble over
	each other, and when she laughed, which she did often, and joyously,
	the flesh fell into chaos, trembling and shaking all over.  Her
	laughter caused her breasts to avalanche down her belly, which
	avalanched down over her thighs.  Her legs looked like huge
	muttonchops, with the kind of crevices in them that are caused by
	excessive weight.

	Sylvia's laughter also made everyone else laugh, and soon everyone,
	except Lena was jolly.

	Carol introduced Lena to the gang.

	"This is Lena, Rettie's baby sister.  She was a bad girl and ran away
	from home, she's only--what are you--sixteen, honey?  We called her
	Daddy and he's coming to get her tomorrow."

	"Well, I don't know if I'm going to be able to party with a little
	sixteen year old watching on," drawled George.  He had three chins,
	which tumbled on top of each other as he raised his head and his
	glass.  "I mean, I don't want to be corrupting the morals of no minor
	or nothing, if you know what I mean," he winked at Carol, who had put
	on a gold lame dress for the occasion.  The tight dress pushed her
	boobs up and together and cinched in at her waist.  She wore lots of
	makeup, bright red on her cheeks and flaming green at her eyes.

	Carol giggled, holding a highball with her pinky raised.  She loved
	being a hostess.  "You don't have to worry about corrupting the morals
	of this minor.  I told you she was a bad girl.  Why she's done things
	you wouldn't think of doing George Limpson."

	"Oh yeah?  Like what?" George bellowed with laughter.

	"Yeah, like what?" asked Sylvia with interest.

	"You know that act that was playing down to the Black Pussy?  That act
	with the donkey from Tequila, Mexico?" Carol's voice had lowered
	confidentially.

	Lena sat uncomfortably on the couch.  Ret and Carol had agreed to
	untie her and ungag her for the party and they both had said they
	trusted her not to run away.  If she did run away, Ret had explained,
	with his fist in her face, she would regret it.  His fist was the size
	of her father's and she had looked at it with quiet dismay.

	"She was the girl!" said Carol pointing triumphantly at Lena.

	Everyone looked at her and gaped with awe.  "With a donkey!" Sylvia
	started screaming with laughter, which set off George.  Carol was
	cackling in her phony high lady-like laugh which soon turned to burps.
	Ray, a thin, quiet man with thin lips pressed tightly together, smiled
	too.  George and Ray owned and operated ÒGeorge and Ray's Truck Stop."
	Tonight was their night off.

	"She looks so innocent like," said Ray quietly and that started
	everyone off again, hooting with laughter.

	"With a donkey," Sylvia kept shaking her head and her eyes got a
	faraway look as if she were trying to imagine it.

	"Wish we had that donkey here now so she could give us a private
	performance," said George.

	Lena said nothing.

	Ret was watching her closely, licking his lips.  He watched her tits
	heaving as she breathed heavily with humiliation.  He wanted her tits
	in his mouth and her cunt around his dick so bad.

	He said, "I don't think my sister should have to listen to talk like
	this.  Maybe she made a few mistakes in life, but we all have, right?
	I want to talk to her in the bedroom," he said.  And he got up and led
	her away.

	"I think I better go and talk to her too," said George.  "I like to
	talk to young folk.  Set them straight about what life is all about."

	"Now don't you fellas muss up my boo-doire," said Carol blithely.  She
	was smiling at Ray.  She had always had the hots for him.

	Someone turned the music on somewhere, and the night became heavy and
	foggy.  Couples fell on top of each other in chairs in the living room
	or in the bedroom, and got up off of each other and found an embrace
	somewhere else.  Bottles lay strewn all over the trailer, and wherever
	you were, you could reach out and pour yourself some more of
	something.

	Carol kneeled between Ray's legs and unzipped the top part of her gown
	so that her flabby breasts hung out.  She pressed them against Ray's
	crotch and began undoing his zipper.  Ray watched as if uninterested.

	She pulled out his dick but it was soft and drooping.  She let it roll
	about against her breasts, but still it didn't get hard.  Carol looked
	up at him from under her long fake eyelashes, and then slipped his
	dick inside her mouth.  It felt soft and small like a worm.

	She bit it.  She felt it harden a little bit as if an underground
	current were picking up.  Ray lay back against the chair and sighed
	and closed his eyes.

	"Suck me off, honey, suck me off," he whispered, holding her head on
	his dick with his hands when she tried to come off him.

	She pressed down on his now hardening dick with her mouth.  Her lips
	pressed back the foreskin and the head of his cock emerged, shining
	and hard.  She felt for his balls, still in his pants, and gently
	eased them out so she could play with him while she brought him off.

	Sylvia sat on the couch across from them watching as she sipped her
	drink.

	She watched her friend Carol's head bob up and down on top of Ray's
	torch, and she watched the pink flesh of Ray's stick appear and
	disappear into Carol's mouth.  His cock was smeared now with Carol's
	red lipstick, and the lipstick on Carol's face was no longer on her
	lips but all around her mouth as she furiously tried to please him.

	"Harder.  Faster.  Up and down right here," Ray showed her the vein to
	follow leading from the tip of the cock to about half way down the
	underside.

	She followed this line, licking with her hard, flattened tongue, then
	just rubbing with her lips pressed together, and with a little bit of
	her tongue sticking out.

	The smell of his cock turned her on.  She had an appetite for cock
	tonight and gladly she allowed the shape and feel of his cock to fill
	her mouth and she hung on to the organ with pressing lips.  She licked
	it and squeezed it, and thanked him for allowing her to eat him.  She
	didn't want him to come until she'd eaten as much cock as she wanted.

	But she couldn't hold him back anymore.  He gripped the sides of the
	chair and threw his head back and closed his eyes.  His fingers
	stretched as he felt the softness of the walls of her mouth squeeze
	with an iron-like hold and her fingers squeezed at the base as if she
	were squeezing candy up a stick.  The come came bursting out of him
	like champagne out of a bottle that's popped its top.  She almost lost
	his dick as his stuff started flying.  But she popped his cock into
	her mouth at just the fight moment, and not a drop was lost.  She
	sucked and sucked the cock, squeezing it with her hands at the same
	time.  She must have swallowed two cupfuls.

	"Did I come a lot?" asked Ray smiling from behind his thin lips.

	"Mmmmmm, baby did you ever," Carol licked her lips.

	She climbed on top of him now and he slipped his hands inside her
	dress to fondle her tits.

	Sylvia sighed on the couch and got up and headed for the bedroom.
	"Disgusting," she said.  "Why a woman would ever want to suck a man's
	dick I'll never know."

	In the bedroom the action was hot.

	George and Ret had quickly stripped Lena down to her essentials: her
	black briefs.

	George had recognized the panties from the act immediately.  "That's
	them!  I remember!  With the red ribbon in the cunt hole like that!"

	Lena was resisting however, and starting to shout so Ret showed George
	how he gagged her and tied her hands, so she couldn't punch them.

	"Can I have her?" George asked with a shy grin on his huge face.  He
	was practically drooling.

	George hadn't been near a young female body in so many years.  Not a
	body like this one, out of a sex magazine.  The smoothness of her
	curves, the shape of her knockers, the curve of her waist and the
	slope of her belly into her mound--he wanted to dig his fingers into
	this delectable dish.

	He pushed her back across the bed.  Ret sat down on one of her legs
	and smoked a cigarette.  George more than pinned her other leg by
	pressing one knee down on top of it.  George was unbuckling his pants
	so fast, and trying to shake them down over his flab that Ret had to
	laugh.

	"Go slow, brother," Ret said.  "You got all the time in the world, or
	at least in the night.  She isn't going anywhere."

	George was chuckling and heaving and panting.  "You know, she's still
	your own sister.  You sure you don't mind?" he asked.

	"Fuck her.  She needs to be taught a lesson," said Ret.

	George first sank his huge fingers into her cunt.  He stuffed his
	whole hand up her, while her hands lay tied above her head.  He just
	couldn't get enough of this pussy and he stuck his face into her cunt,
	ripping apart the slit of the black briefs.  He just slobbered right
	into her, all over her, coming up for air, and to lick his lips and to
	breathe in deeply the stink of her pussy.

	ÒGod, I love that pussy smell," he said.  He looked up at her tits,
	fallen now on either side of her body.  He jumped up on top of her,
	pinning her by the stomach, to luxuriate his hands in her soft mounds
	of flesh.  Then his head dove again back to her muff, where he sunk
	his hands and tongue and nose and whole face in her.  He was rooting
	in her pussymeat like a fat pig rolling in swill.

	His whole huge body was stretched across her while his face was sunk
	between her legs, and his enormous cock was stabbing at her neck, into
	her tits, into her eyes and face until finally it found the hole of
	her mouth where it squashed its way in.

	He was sliding gooey fingers into her cunt and stuffing his tongue
	into her as if she were a Thanksgiving turkey, and whopping his
	whopper into her mouth by raising and lowering his ass over her head.
	She was being squashed and suffocated beneath him, and finally, to
	survive, all her apertures just simply opened their widest--her mouth
	yawning hugely to hold his dick which must have had a width of two or
	three inches.  Her cunt too was just flapping wet wide open beneath
	his greedy fingers.  Then in addition to all the discomfort, she was
	deluged with the flood of his come.  His semen poured all over her
	head and face and then stabbed one last time down into her throat
	where he deposited the greater part of his manly liquid, while she
	hastily gulped it down.

	The bed was sopping wet when George got up.

	Lena was whimpering and coughing.

	Sylvia, who had been watching, shook her head in disgust and said,
	"Well, I do declare.  Either they find some woman fool enough to want
	to do it voluntarily, or they strap some poor girl down and make her
	take it in her mouth." She spat on the floor.

	"Syl, take her into the john and clean her up," said Ret, smiling.  He
	knew Sylvia's taste.

	Sylvia said, ÒPoor baby, come with me." And she helped Lena to stand
	and led her into the john.

	George and Ret wandered back into the living room to find Carol in
	Ray's arms.

	"Oh hi, honey," Carol said jumping up.  "Ray and I were just necking a
	little.  I think he's so cute, don't you?"

	This made George laugh until his fat looked like it would jiggle right
	off.  He spent the better part of every day and night flipping eggs
	and greasy fat right next to Ray and he didn't think he was cute at
	all.

	Carol decided to entertain the company with some exotic dancing and
	she found her favorite record.

	The men sat to watch her as she danced around the room, slowly
	unzipping the front of her dress, revealing more and more.  Finally
	the whole dress came off.  She was wearing panties like those Lena had
	worn, with no crotch.  But Carol had been a professional exotic dancer
	for many years.  She knew how to turn men on with a dance.

	She rolled on the floor, lifting one leg then another, while the dusky
	male voice on the record whispered what it would like to do to her,
	and the men in the room rubbed their hard cocks under their pants.

	She raised one leg, revealing her cunt.  She was blessed with a very
	wide organ.  Her clit popped right out and she ran a cool finger over
	it for just one second, just enough to make the men groan.  Then she
	flipped over on her hands and knees and spread her stuff.

	She walked over to the pole that supported the living room and raised
	one leg and pretended to masturbate her cunt along the pole.

	"Oh, baby, go to it," George cried out.

	Ret licked his lips.

	Some time after this, when the record was over, and Carol was nesting
	in Ret's arms while he soothed her flaming cunt with his fingers while
	George looked on fondly, they remembered Sylvia.

	"What the fuck is she doing in there with that girl?" said George
	lasciviously.

	"Oh, who cares about that kid?  Honey, do me.  Don't stop," pleaded
	Carol on Ret's lap.

	But Ret stood up, dumping her on the floor at the same time, and
	George sprang up, if that monstrous tub of lard could be said to
	spring.

	Moans and groans were coming from the bathroom and they pounded on the
	door.  Finally they forced it open.

	The men hooted and howled at the sight they saw.

	Sylvia lay naked on her back on the floor and she gripped the naked
	Lena tightly on top of her body.  Lena's ass Sylvia kept tightly to
	her face with her arms.  Sylvia had Lena's head securely between her
	own legs.

	"Lick!  Lick!" Sylvia was saying.  She parted Lena's cunt with her
	hands and dove into her muff with her tongue and nose.

	Carol turned away in disgust and went back into the living room.

	No one knew exactly when the orgy of fucking and sucking ended.  But
	it was some time far into the night when Carol woke up, but heard a
	strange moaning, whining sound which piqued her curiosity.

	She got up and stumbled to find a light, tripping as she looked over
	Buster.  The flick of a switch revealed the dog lying between two
	legs: Lena's legs.

	Lena lay on the floor as if unconscious while the dog ate her out,
	whining as it did so.

	"Aaaaahhhh, everybody come see this!" Carol started screeching.

	ÒWhat?  What the hell are you shouting about?" Ret came reeling up
	behind her.  He gazed down at the sight of the red-haired Irish setter
	slapping its big tongue all over the cunt of the spread-eagled girl,
	lying where she had last been fucked, by Ray.

	He woke the others and they all came and peered over and stared at
	each other wide-eyed.  Then, as they silently watched, the dog, his
	slimy wet dick dragging across the carpet, mounted the girl, putting
	his paws on her tits.

	His dick fitted slowly into her cunt wet with the come of many fucks,
	and the dog too took his pleasure on the form that lay beneath him.

	"Well hot damn."

	"Now I've seen everything."

	"Carol honey, you always do throw the best parties."

	These were the remarks that escaped their unbelieving lips.

	The dog came too, leaving his come as the final crowning touch on the
	layers of come caked between the girl's thighs.

	The guests wandered off to fix themselves some fresh drinks.

	The sound of the car honking in the driveway, and then of fists
	pounding on the front door, brought them slowly to their shaky senses
	early the next morning.

	"Who's that?" mumbled Carol.

	"Oh shit, it must be him," whispered Ret.

	"Take her into the john and try to clean her up.  Sober her up.  It
	must be Pop come to pick her up."

	Ret washed his own face quickly at the kitchen sink and straightened
	out his clothes.  It had been years since he had seen his father.  He
	felt queasy now at the thought of confronting this man whom he had
	hated all his life.

	Carol had hustled Lena into the bathroom, and quickly washed her up in
	there.  She fixed her own hair and dabbed her face with make-up.
	She'd had too much to drink the night before.

	"Ret!  Boy?  Wake up in there!" The father pounded on the door.  "I've
	got your money!" Hanson was red in the face from yelling.  His
	eyebrows were deep furrows across his face and he barreled into the
	trailer past his son whom he barely took notice of.

	"Where is she?" he demanded.  "If this is some fool trick ...

	"Hello Pop.  No it's no trick.  Lena will be right out, my wife is
	helping my friends, Sylvia, George and Ray.  We had a bit of a party
	here last night."

	"I'll say you did," said Roland Hanson, surveying the room in
	disarray.

	He looked with disgust at the sprawling Sylvia as she attempted to
	button her blouse over her huge breasts.  Ray and George didn't even
	merit glances from him.

	When Carol brought Lena out, Ret introduced Carol to his father.

	"Dad, this is my wife, Carol."

	"Pleased to meet you sir, I sure have heard a lot about you," Carol
	cooed and shifted her hips.  She was in the gold lame gown again.

	"Please do excuse the mess around here.  We had us a big shindig last
	night and ...

	"Lena," the father said, brushing away Carol's words as if they were
	flies.  Lena was looking sullenly, hopelessly, at the carpet.  Her
	father put his hand under her chin and raised her face.  The eyes that
	gazed at him were not the clear laughing blue eyes of before.  They
	were dull and sullen and glazed over.  It almost as if she didn't see
	her father, but she understood very well what was happening to her
	now.

	"Uh, Pops, could you step over here a second ..." Ret pulled his
	father into the kitchen area.  "Now about that dough," he was saying
	and laughing foolishly.

	"Yeah, here you go." Roland reached into his wallet in his back pocket
	and pulled out a fifty.

	He slapped it into his son's hand.  Ret stared at it with unbelieving
	eyes, waiting for more.

	His father turned away as if to go back to the girl.

	"Uh, Pops, this is only a fifty, you owe me 650 more," the son laughed
	nervously.

	"I owe you what?" the father turned around with a snarl.

	ÒWell, uh, er, the advertisement, that you put in the newspapers, it
	said $700 for the return or information leading to the return of ..."

	"Yeah, but I changed my mind," Roland Hanson sneered at his son.
	"Besides," he snickered.  "she looks kind of used.  You know what I
	mean?"

	He left Ret standing open-mouthed in the kitchen, the paltry fifty
	lying limp in his hand like an old dick.

	"Why, Mr. Hanson, you're just the spitting image of your son Ret
	there.  Or should I say that Ret is the spitting image of you?  I
	think Ret's one of the handsomest man I've ever known in my whole
	life." Carol picked up cooing at Hanson when he came back to where
	Lena stood by Carol.

	Again he paid her no mind except to look at her once closely.  His
	son's wife was a bad-looking old woman.  "Shit, he never did have no
	taste," Hanson said out loud, and then he simply said, "Thanks for
	returning my daughter to me," and he took Lena by the hand and led her
	out the door.

	Everyone was silent as they listened to the truck doors slam and the
	motor shift into gear.  Then the gravel of the driveway spit as the
	truck backed up and screeched out onto the pavement.

	Carol broke the silence with, "Yippee!  Yellowstone Park here we
	come!"

	"Shut up," said Ret going over to the picture window to watch the
	truck turn out of the trailer camp and disappear down the road.

	"What?" said Carol.  "How much did he give you hon?"

	"I said SHUT UP!" shouted Ret, Òand get out of here!  All of you!  Get
	out!  Get out!"

	The guests began hustling into their clothes and out the front door.

	"Honey, what's wrong with you?  What's wrong?" they heard Carol
	shouting inside as they piled into their truck.

	Then they heard a scream inside.

	"Fifty?  He only gave you fifty?  That BASTARD!!  That BASTARD!!
	We'll sue him we'll ..."

	The gravel in the driveway flew again as George and Ray and Sylvia
	pulled out onto the pavement, with Sylvia at the wheel.

Chapter 7

	Lena and Roland did not look at each other.  Roland kept his eyes on
	the road Lena, hugging the window on her side, watched the road too
	but was looking at nothing.  She was in a state of trauma after the
	long weekend.  They had a long drive ahead of them, but Roland could
	see by her condition, all her usual spunk was gone, that he would not
	have to worry about her trying to jump out of the cab and escape
	again.  Besides they were going too fast.

	After they had passed Lima and were really out on the open road,
	Roland said to his daughter, "Get down on the seat."

	She turned and stared at him wordlessly.

	"Get down on the seat girl, I say," he snapped nastily.

	"Roland, leave me alone," she said wearily her blue eyes deep in haze.

	"Get down on the seat with your little behind over here, close, where
	I can touch it, in 30 seconds.  And if you don't move fast, do you
	know what I'm going to do to you?  I'm going to have you committed for
	the rest of your stupid little life to a county institution for crazy
	people.  I reckon you're just about crazy now, anyway.  You look
	pretty crazy to me.  And I guess Doc.  Elbert would say you look
	pretty crazy too."

	Lena just looked at him.

	Roland looked at his watch.  "I ain't jestin' girl," be said in a very
	low voice.  "Thirty seconds," and he pointed to the seat.

	Lena crouched as he had instructed her.  She no longer cared at all
	what happened to her.  Sexual abuse was becoming familiar.  She could
	close her eyes and through most of it think of something else,
	waiting, hoping, and enduring until the end of it.

	This time she closed her eyes and thought of life in a county mental
	institution.  No, Lord, please not that.  She had visited one once.
	The glazed looks in the eyes of the patients, who all had the same
	color, grey, in their eyes, their hair, their skin, their voices,
	their clothes, the very air had been grey: no she was afraid of that
	kind of existence.

	Her father had raised her skirt and lowered her panties as she lay
	beside him in a slavish position.  Now he had only one hand on the
	wheel.  The other hand was occupied with his daughter's cunt, served
	up on the seat right beside him.

	Damn, it was so fucking good, he thought, to have some good quality
	meat around again.  He poked his fingers up the cunt he had paid $50
	for.  It was soft and sticky and young and healthy.  Tight, too, he
	thought, testing out the width of the inner canal.  Slimy, the way he
	liked it, he remembered, sliding down the passage from the tip of the
	labia to the root opening.

	Cars passing were no trouble: the drivers couldn't see the girl
	crouched on the seat.  But trucks were another story.  A big rig
	traveled with them for several miles, almost an hour, to watch the big
	man poking his fingers into the pretty young girl in obeyance on the
	seat.  The riggers cracked jokes and made lewd remarks.

	"Got you some car-cunt, there, fella, don't you?"

	"Yep, that's how I like it."

	"Mmmmm, sure looks good.  Hello there little lady," the rigger called
	down.

	Lena was thinking of how, if she were put away she would never again
	smell the open fields at haying time, never see the brown earth turned
	over fresh and dark at planting time in spring.  She would never again
	ride a horse, and feel the dark wind blowing in her hair.  Never again
	wake to the possibility of freedom and a life of her own.  She
	recalled the week of freedom she had enjoyed, waking up alone at
	Bill's every morning, going down the street for a cup of coffee in the
	cafe, talking to the waitresses and truck drivers.  She thought of the
	pleasure she had received collecting her tips at the club, the money
	she had earned.

	Roland grew tired of finger fucking and he let her sit up.  They rode
	on in silence again.  The rig that had been watching moved on.

	They stopped at a gas station for gas and Lena said she had to pee.
	She went into the ladies room after getting the key from the station
	attendant.  She stood in the small dirty cubicle looking at herself in
	the mirror over the sink.

	She saw a very sad girl, her blonde hair in disarray, with sad blue
	eyes and a strong set look to her lips.  She didn't recognize herself.
	What she saw was no longer the little girl who could be shocked, or
	hurt by the lack of love she received.  She no longer expected love or
	care from anyone.  She had only herself, and she made a vow to take
	care of herself as best as she could.  She told herself she loved
	herself very much and she lectured herself there in the mirror before
	looking around for some movie-like escape.  But there was no window in
	the bathroom, no back door to slip out of.  She peed, and went back
	outside where her father was standing outside of the car waiting for
	her.

	The attendant came up to him to give him his change.

	"Please, help me, I'm going to be raped by this man!  Help me!  Please
	help me!  Please!  Help!"

	She hadn't known she was going to do it, but she found herself
	clinging to the arm of the gas station attendant while her father
	tried to pull her away.

	The gas station attendant was a young pimply guy, a high school kid,
	who was totally bewildered by this situation.

	"Don't pay her any mind, son.  This is my daughter.  She's a very sick
	girl.  I'm just bringing her home from Beau Rive, the mental home, you
	know.  We're supposed give her a trial stay at home, but as you can
	see, she's still not adjusted to normal life."

	"He's lying!  Please!  Help!  Help!" Lena kept crying, but her father
	succeeded in prying her loose from the boy and sticking her back in
	the cab of the car.  He did this as gently as he could, talking to her
	in a low voice.

	"It's all right honey.  Everything will be all right." That was for
	the gas station attendant's benefit.  Under his breath he whispered
	fiercely, as he secretly jerked her arm, "You'll pay for this, miss."

	"Well, gee, sir, gee," was all the boy could get out, and he watched
	them drive off shaking his head.

	Roland couldn't risk tying her up, but now he knew he couldn't trust
	her.  He couldn't tie her up until they got home, for that just
	wouldn't look right if anyone on the road saw him riding with a girl
	in bonds.

	However, he found a place for her, where she would be out of the way
	and useful at the same time.  He made her sit between his legs under
	the steering wheel.

	"Open my pants and suck my dick," he said.

	He held her securely between his thighs and he could hit her on top of
	her head anytime he wanted.  He hit her soundly now with his fist, for
	she hadn't jumped to answer his command fast enough.

	She unzipped his pants and pulled out his soft cock with the
	indifference of a nurse emptying her thousandth bedpan.  She played
	with it expertly until it got hard, swatting it back and forth between
	her hands and sometimes laying her lips on it.

	Once it got hard she began licking it, the way he liked it: with the
	hard flat beam of her tongue down the back starting at the tip.

	He swatted her on the head when he wanted her to change.

	"Suck it now."

	She had to suck him and suck him for what seemed like hours, the whole
	way home to Linden.  She did her mind trick again which helped her to
	forget what she was doing, and the humiliating position she was in.

	She thought of her father's stallions.  If she were put away in mental
	home she would never again be able to sneak out of the house late at
	night and ride off across the plain on Red Beauty or Black Pride.
	Never again be able to take one of them down by Neversink Creek, where
	it crossed the King's land and there was a little grove.  Never again
	would she know the electrifying fear, which turned somehow to a
	terrifying joy, when she approached the underside of the horse,
	approached its genitals, and felt the horse stiffen as he waited for
	her touch.  Never again know the strange passion of mounting a horse
	and feeling its power, greater than the power of any man, flow between
	her thighs.

	Her father was a virile man, himself, however.  She went in and out of
	her fantasy of soothing or exciting images, and once she found
	herself, still under the wheel whose shaft pressed down against her
	neck, with come dripping out of her mouth.  She had been on her knees
	for hours, and this must have been the fifth or sixth time he had
	come.  She felt sick, at the slime in her mouth, and at the amount of
	times that lay ahead when she would have to perform this same feat of
	acrobatic mouthwork on this man whom she despised.

	Roland Hanson was singing to himself as he saw the road signs
	announcing they were approaching Linden, population, 9,000.

	"Get back up here on the seat, girl," he said.

	Wearily, with a cramped back and neck and achingly cramped legs, and
	even a cramped mouth, she crawled out from under the dashboard and
	resumed her place on the seat beside him.

	"We're almost home," he said.

	She looked wearily out the window at dark countryside passing by, the
	familiar billboard for Black Velvet whiskey and the one for Holesome
	White Bread, and at the familiar barns and rises in the land.  She
	wiped her mouth and spit out the window and her eyes became glazed
	again as she waited to arrive home.

	He stopped the car when they came to the lane that led to their
	farmhouse.  He bound and gagged her.  He told her: "Now your mother's
	sick and she don't know you're home again.  I don't want no noise out
	of you.  The doctor said she's got to have quiet."

	He pulled the car into the driveway and went around to the other side
	to help Lena out.  She stumbled on her tied feet as she stepped out
	onto the ground.

	Roland picked her up and carried her into the barn.  He threw her on
	the hay in a corner by the horses.

	"That's going to be your home from now on, until you learn to behave.
	If you're going to act like an animal, running away from home and
	disobeying your father, then you're going to live like an animal." And
	he left shutting the door behind him.

	Lena was thankful for the solitude she enjoyed that night.  She kept
	fearing her father would come to her and fuck her, but he didn't.  She
	heard his car drive off in the middle of the night and knew she would
	have peace until morning.  She wondered what he meant by saying her
	mother was sick.  How sick?  Sick with what?  She wondered if her
	mother's sickness was just something made up in the imagination of
	Roland Hanson for his own convenience.

	She watched the stars come out, through the window high in the barn.
	She could only see a small patch of midnight blue but she watched it
	faithfully, as if she were a disciple, come a long way to cast her
	eyes on the shrine of some sacred teacher.  It was a long while before
	she even became aware of the presence of the horses.

	They had champed and stamped their feet a little when Roland brought
	her in, and he had told them to quiet down.  But when he left her,
	they had stood quietly, curiously, looking at her lying there with
	their bright dark horse eyes.  She looked at their eyes and wondered
	about their intelligence.  They had a look of knowing or understanding
	a body's feelings, she thought.  But they were horses.  How could they
	feel pity or love for her?  She felt cold and apart from them.  She
	was less of a free creature than they were.  All three of them were
	tied up, but she alone was the human.

	Finally she fell asleep, into a deep dreamless sleep where there were
	no phantoms, no danger, no joy either, but no pain.

	She spent the next day in the straw and the next night too.  Once, in
	the evening, her father came out and brought her some water and
	cheese.

	He removed her gag to let her eat.

	"How's mother?" she asked.

	He said nothing, as if she hadn't spoken, and when she had finished
	the cheese and water, he replaced the gag and left.

	She spent many days like this.  She never heard anyone moving about in
	the kitchen or the yard, and so surmised that her mother must indeed
	be sick.  She heard the chickens screeching for food, and she came to
	realize that more than half the cows had been sold.  She only heard
	one or two of them on the other side of the partition.  Her father
	came in and milked them at night.

	He brought her water and cheese everyday, and she passed from a state
	of mental and physical exhaustion, to one of constant hunger and a
	dreamlike state of fear and fantasy.

	Finally, one evening when he brought her food, he untied her.  He was
	carrying the milk bucket "You milk the cows," was all he said.

	From that time on he allowed her to do the chores of the barn and
	barnyard.  He allowed her to remain untied as long as he was home.
	But he always tied her up again at night or when he left for the day.
	His knots were fast and tight, and she had tried many times to break
	out of them but could not.

	The one thing he made clear to her was that the house was off-limits
	to her.  Under no circumstances was she to enter, or stand close to
	the windows or speak when nearby.  If she disobeyed he said he would
	simply tie her up in the barn and leave her there until she starved to
	death.

	She obeyed him.  A month passed in this way and she saw no one and
	spoke to no one, and heard only her father's voice.  He came out to
	fuck her at irregular times.  Sometimes he stayed away from her for a
	whole week at a time.  Sometimes he fucked her four or five times a
	day.  She would be stooping over to pet the cat or play with Bennie,
	the new puppy, and suddenly she would feel him standing over her back.
	His shadow fell across the ground, and she would turn and see him
	motion to the barn She followed him in and spread her legs for him in
	whatever way in desired.

	Sometimes he liked to take her up in the loft.  At noon, with the sun
	blazing on the roof of the barn and the smell of the horse and cow
	dung rising like dough, he put a saddle across her back and made her
	crawl around on the scratchy hay while he rode on top, his dick hard
	against the horn.

	Leaving the saddle on her, and holding her head by reins, he made her
	take his cock in her mouth and suck him off.  It took an hour
	sometimes to bring him to an orgasm.  He could control his cock so
	well.  Whenever he felt his come rising in him, he would withdraw from
	her mouth, and delight for a while he switching her lovely naked
	bottom with a cowhide whip, not hurting her unless she failed to move
	in a way that pleased him.

	One day he woke her where she lay bound up in the straw by throwing a
	shopping bag from town at her.  He untied her and told her to put on
	some of the things in the bag.  He left and when he came back she was
	wearing a black brassiere with holes cut out for the nipples and a
	black garter belt and black seamed stockings.  They climbed up to the
	loft.

	He rode her around on the saddle for a while, and put the bit and
	reins in her mouth.  Then he made her suck him for a while.

	Having his big red cock in her mouth was like second nature to her
	now.  It was one of her chores, like feeding the chickens.  It had to
	be done.

	When she had been sucking him for about an hour, he pulled out and
	switched her bottom for a while, while she undulated it before him,
	the saddle still on her back.  The black stockings came up to her mid
	thighs, and the saddle hung down over her back, and in between; the
	blond cunt, pert and sassy like a filly horse, swayed and switched for
	him.  He liked to switch at her moons playfully and watch her cunt
	twitch.

	Then he made her turn around again and put his dick in her mouth while
	he really rode her this time, right to the end.  He put his legs on
	either side of her body and held her tight, right up close to him, and
	when he felt his wad bulging he pulled her on top of him tighter so
	that he was halfway down her throat and he shot his wad good and long
	and hard straight as an arrow down her esophagus.

	Sometimes he fucked her in the ass in the early morning before going
	out to work in the fields.  Sometimes he came home at midday to fuck
	her.  Sometimes it was late in the night, when the cows and horses
	were asleep that he came in to perform their secret act, waking all
	the animals up.

	In all this time she did not get a chance to re-initiate her sexual
	relationships with the stallions.  In truth, she did not even think
	about it.  Her life had become one useless, exitless round of chores
	ranging from the pleasant and rhythmic, such as feeding and caring for
	the animals, to the degrading and unpleasant, such as servicing her
	father.

	One day, while she was sweeping the yard in the hot sun, and her
	father was in the house, a car pulled up in the driveway.  Before her
	father could come hustling out of the house and get her into the barn,
	Brad King had jumped out of the car and gone over to Lena.

	"Lena," he said warmly.  "It's so good to see you.  I didn't know you
	were home.  Your father said you were going to be away for the summer
	visiting relatives in Milwaukee."

	"Well, I came home," Lena spoke softly.  Her father was standing
	between them now.  He told her to go into the barn and finish cleaning
	out the horse's stalls.

	She heard his conversation with Brad as she mucked out Red Beauty's
	stall.  The horses were out in the corral.

	"Yep, Lena came home about a day or so ago.  Yep, she heard about her
	mother being sick and all and she insisted on leaving the big city to
	come home to take care of her old Mom."

	"That's real nice," said Brad.  "I sure would like to take her out
	some night, so's we could talk.  Just for old time's sake, like old
	friends, of course."

	"Lena'll be sticking pretty close to the house, I guess," answered
	Roland for his daughter.  "Her Mom's pretty sick you know."

	"Even a nurse has to take a break sometimes," said Brad.

	"I'll be the judge of when she gets a break.  I guess she gets plenty
	of breaks around here," said Roland.  "Now, let's get down to
	business.  When are you going to bring that bull over here to mate it
	with my cows.  I got only two cows left now and I want to see them
	both bellyful with calves.  I'm going to be able to use that extra
	little bit of cash come next winter."

	"Yeah," said Brad, and they set a date for Brad to bring the bull
	around.

	"Be sure to tell Lena I sure am glad to see her back home again.  And
	tell her we'll go out some night, whenever she wants.  Tell her she
	just has to say the word," called Brad loudly as he got back into his
	car.

	"Yeah, I'll tell her," said Roland chewing on a bit of straw.  He
	stood in the driveway watching the car until it pulled entirely out of
	sight.

	He tied her up immediately after that.  She was lying in the straw in
	the corner near the cleaned horse stables.  It felt very empty with
	the horses not there.

	Roland pulled his dick out from his dirty lowslung jeans with his
	equally dirty, thick fingers.  It was hard.  He walked over to the
	shelf on which the saddles were kept and smeared some saddle grease on
	his dick.

	Lena was wearing her blue jeans and moccasins, but underneath she
	still had on the stockings and garters from the night before.  Roland
	liked her to wear them under her work clothes, so that she was always
	ready.

	He pulled down her pants so that he was staring at the white moons of
	her ass and the blonde cunt that lay between, bound by the black
	garters.  He opened her ass with his large twitching fingers, and
	stuffed one finger in her asshole.

	She made a movement and stifled a cry of fear.

	He slid the thick finger in and out for a while, easing the hole open.
	When it took his finger easily, stuck three fingers in and again she
	cried out.

	Soon he brought the tip of his proud erect cock to her anus and rubbed
	the saddle grease on the opening.  He reached under her and felt for
	her boobs, the long pale smooth things lying like eggs in the straw
	and he paddled them with his fingers and twisted the nipples until she
	held her ass up higher.

	His fingers again on her ass he shoved his cock into the opening of
	her asshole and held it there for a moment.  Her asshole was closing
	up tight around his dick.

	"Open up!" he commanded.

	"Open your ass up, bitch!" he snarled at her and the whip came down
	across her back.

	"I can't!" she whimpered.

	"Open!" he said and he shoved his dick in farther.

	From then on in it was a matter of yielding to the pain and fear and
	opening up to him as he wanted to, in order that the whole thing might
	be quickly over.

	He stuffed his cock way up into her hole and stuck his fingers into
	her vagina at the same time.  In this way, with his horn up her ass
	and his fingers up her cunt, he had quite a good grip on her.  He
	pulled her about, this way and that, pulling her up onto him, and
	sliding her down off.  What more complete way to dominate a female, he
	thought, than to have this two-fisted grab on her.

	He looked at her jeans, down now around one ankle, and at the legs,
	spread apart and twisting, in black stockings seamed as if they held
	big sausages.  And he watched his powerful pole disappear between the
	moons of her ass and her cunt become red and wet as he gripped her
	with his fingers.

	He just kept pulling her up and pushing her back, sliding her up and
	down on his wet pole like a plaster horse going up and down on its
	pole on the merry-go-round.  Her asshole was soft, so soft, and tight,
	it squeezed him tighter than her cunt.

	Suddenly he couldn't restrain himself and he shot his white wad up her
	ass, squeezing all his juice out of him.

	"Don't ever let me catch you with that Brad King," he said, releasing
	his double grip on her and throwing her back in the straw.

	One day a carnival came to town.  Lena could hear the tinkle of the
	faraway calliope on the edge of town as she did the barnyard chores,
	and she stood on the gate of the fence of the corral for a long while
	that night, looking up at the stars and listening to the sound of
	distant merriment.

	Her father went out that night and he tied her up in the barn as
	usual, near the horses.  At about eleven o'clock she heard a car pull
	into the driveway, but she knew it wasn't her father's truck.  She
	heard a door close and she heard someone walking about in the yard,
	tapping at the kitchen door and at the windows of the house,
	whispering, "Lena?  Lena?  Are you in there?  It's me, Brad."

	"Brad!  I'm in here.  In the barn!" she called.  Her father had
	neglected to gag her that evening.

	He heard her and tore into the barn.  She looked at the expression of
	shock on his face and almost turned to look behind her.

	Then she realized of course that the shock was at the sight of her.

	He untied her and asked her how long she had been left this way.

	"Oh, it's been a couple of months now, I guess," she said.

	Again she saw the shock on his face, and she laughed.  "You have no
	idea the kind of life he forces me to live.  He keeps me out here and
	I don't talk to anyone.  He says my mother is sick but I've never been
	in the house to see her.  Look," she said pulling down her jeans.

	He saw the stockings and garters that lay beneath.  He stared at her
	without understanding.

	"He keeps me out here and when he wants he comes and fucks me," she
	said.

	"I've got to get you out of here," Brad whispered, with all the heroic
	fervor of an eighteen-year-old.

	She laughed sadly.  "Brad, he'll kill me if he knows you came by and
	talked to me.  How the hell do you think you're going to rescue me?
	He'll come and find me, wherever you take me.  He'll kill you too.
	He'll kill us both."

	"No, there's got to be a way," said Brad, holding her in his arms.
	"I'm a man too, you know," he said.  She nestled into the crook of his
	arm and started crying.  He stroked her hair.

	"Don't worry, little girl, it's going to be all right now.  You just
	listen to me and do what I say.  I'll get you out of here." His voice
	was determined, but his eyes gazing over her head at the horse he had
	once seen her mounted on, were unsure.

	He took her to the carnival that night, against her protestations.
	She insisted on looking into the house for her mother, though he said
	she shouldn't.

	"I have to," she said.  But she dissolved into tears when she saw the
	still pale sleeping creature lying on the sad pillow with spit
	bubbling between her lips.

	"Mother!  What's wrong with her?" she cried.  She lifted one of the
	woman's lifeless hands and felt a small pulse beating slowly somewhere
	deep in the flesh.

	But Mara Hanson never woke or responded, and Brad led Lena away,
	saying they'd better get away before her father returned.

	He'd seen her father in a bar, drinking and talking loudly, that
	night.  And as soon as Brad had walked in and seen Roland Hanson
	sitting there, he'd turned around and got back in his car and drove
	straight for the Hanson farm.  He'd been determined to see and talk to
	Lena for himself.

	The carnival made her dizzy.  She was unaccustomed to so many lights
	and noises and the crowds of people frightened her.  She clung to
	Brad's arm with terror, afraid someone would recognize her and tell
	her father, or worse that her father would be among the crowd.

	Brad took her around the back of a tent and opened the flap.  A red-
	haired woman in a dress looked up from diapering a baby.

	"Linda, a friend of mine needs a place to stay.  Can she sleep in the
	back?"

	Linda quickly made up a bed in the back of the tent.  Brad whispered
	in her ear for a while, while Lena lay looking up at the wrinkles in
	the canvas.  Then Brad came over to where she lay.  He untied a knot
	in the wall and a flap came down, giving them some privacy.

	"She's my brother's wife and she says you can stay here for a few
	days.  Don't go outside the tent unless there's no one around and wait
	here for me.  Okay?"

	Lena raised herself up and put her lips against his lips.  "Okay," she
	whispered.

	She fell back on the cot again and he lay down on top of her.  He just
	kissed her lips with his, gently, and stroked her long hair.  Their
	lips on top of each other were wet and firm and when they parted their
	lips slightly and allowed their tongues to touch it was sweet.  His
	hands traveled up and down all over her body, feeling the curves of
	her youth under her thin summer clothing.  She just lay there and let
	him feel her, feeling the warmth and tenderness of his caress.  When
	he slipped his hand under her blouse and felt the smooth firmness of
	her left breast she shivered and her nipple rose like a spirited
	stallion.  He placed his lips on this bucking animal and gently and
	tenderly circled the nipple with his tongue, feeling its hard ridges.
	He cupped the other breast in his hands and did the same.

	She undid his belt buckle with experienced hands, but this time she
	was doing it willingly, lovingly, and not as a menial chore.  When she
	reached for his cock under his jeans it was hard and ready.

	Gently he lay between her legs and she guided his cock to her hole.
	Her cunt was all wet and ready and willing.  She guided the nose of
	his cock back and forth across the soft yielding flesh and then
	suddenly poked it into the cave.  He felt his cock slip into her wet
	cunt and felt the space beneath that was still left to probe and he
	sighed and pushed on top of her and drove his cock deeper into her
	womb.

	She opened her legs wider with a sigh.  Never before in her life had
	she had such sweet gentle loving.  She squeezed her thighs together,
	and squeezed her cunt, and he rode down lower into her, feeling her
	flesh open before his prong.

	Slowly, gently, whispering endearments into each other's ears, he rode
	her smoothly to paradise, rocking into her sweet pussy that was saying
	yes, yes, only to him.

	Together they stared at his member, pulling up out of her and sinking
	deep into her, and then he fell on her chest, between her boobs, and
	she held on to him tightly and he shot his come straight into her, as
	she kept rocking him into her with her ass and hips.

Chapter 8

	When Brad King returned to the Rooster Tavern that night he walked
	into the middle of a brawl.  Roland Hanson had gone berserk it seemed.
	He was flinging beer mugs and chairs at a young man who was cursing
	him out while the interested clientele looked on.  Someone had managed
	to part them and the bouncer was trying to throw both men out.

	"That's Roland's son, Ret," said a drunk with a thick stubble on his
	chin.

	"What?" said Brad.  He moved among the crowd until he got the whole
	story.  Ret Hanson, who hadn't been seen in this county for over ten
	years, had showed up at the bar that night with a wild story about how
	Roland had cheated him of some money.  When Roland denied it and told
	him to get the hell away, the son had started shouting something about
	a donkey.

	"She did it with a donkey.  In a donkey act in Iowa City.  That's the
	kind of daughter you have.  How do you like that?  Do you like it?  I
	saw it, with my own eyes, I saw it!' That's what he kept shouting,"
	one old timer recounted to Brad with a laugh.  "Whoeee, you should
	have seen Roland Hanson's eyes bulge," the old man laughed.

	Brad had heard enough and he quickly left the saloon.  Lena had told
	him of her stay in Iowa City and how her brother had betrayed her, and
	how her father had betrayed him.

	The bouncer had succeeded now in ejecting both the elder and the
	younger Hanson and they stood facing each other, their fists raised,
	outside the establishment.

	"With a donkey.  She fucked a fucking donkey, she sucked him off and
	then she fucked him with her cunt!  How do you like that?  Is that
	what she does to you too?  Does she fuck you just like she fucked the
	donkey?" Ret was screaming.

	"Shut up, you miserable liar!" Roland Hanson was almost beside himself
	with liquor and anger and confusion.

	Men were trying to keep father and son from falling on each other with
	their fists.

	Brad King stepped up.  "Sir, I don't know if what your son tells you
	is true, but I do know one thing.  Your daughter has fucked your
	horses.  Both of them.  Your stallions.  She told me she goes out into
	the barn and fucks them both, after every time you take her and you
	rape her in the barn!"

	"It's a lie!!!!" screamed Roland Hanson, held by several hands.  His
	eyes were boiling red and every muscle in his body and face was
	straining to keep the truth from coming out.

	"Let me go.  Let me go home.  I'll ask Lena myself.  I'll ask that
	stupid bitch."

	"Er, I don't think you should drive home yourself Roland, old man.
	You've had quite a few," said a friend.

	Roland Hanson spit.  "Let me go."

	"No," other men agreed.  A few of them decided to escort him home, to
	make sure he didn't do something wild and crazy on the way.  They
	could see that he was a man at the end of some kind of rope and they
	wanted to protect him from himself.

	Against his wild protestations, he was forced into the cab of his
	pick-up between two men, and another car followed behind.

	By the time they pulled into his driveway he had calmed down.  He was
	thinking.  He let on as if he was feeling much calmer and better, and
	thanked them for helping him home.  He was hoping they would leave,
	when they let on they'd love a cup of coffee.  He let them into the
	kitchen, casting a backward glance at the barn.  He'd have to wait for
	them to leave before he could go in there.

	He fumbled around in the kitchen, knocking the glasses together,
	trying to boil water on the stove for coffee.

	"Where's Lena?" one of the men asked.  "Have her come out here and do
	it," they suggested.

	"Lena!" he called gruffly and then when there was no answer he said,
	"She must be asleep."

	"How's Mara doing, Roland?  We hear she's pretty sick.  Is everything
	okay?  Is there anything we can do to help?"

	Roland thought of that sick feeble face to whom he was feeding small
	amounts of rat poison everyday.  He looked the men straight in the
	eyes and said, "No thanks.  Appreciate it, but there's nothing anyone
	can do.  The doc looks in on her every once in a while."

	Brad King was among the men in the kitchen.  He had ridden in the car
	that followed behind.  "How is Lena doing?" he asked, sipping his
	coffee.  "You be sure to tell that girl, my offer is still good.  I'll
	take her out anytime."

	The other men murmured, "She's a nice girl, Roland.  She'll make some
	man a fine wife some day."

	Roland barely kept up his polite attitude until the men finally
	thanked him for the coffee and said goodnight.  They were still
	offering their help anytime, when they pulled out of the driveway and
	drove away.

	"Yeah, yeah, yeah," said Roland disgustedly as he watched them leave.
	He spat on the ground and then, when their headlights were out of
	sight, he stalked into the barn.

	He looked for her everywhere.  In the loft, in the horses' stalls, in
	the cows' stalls, in the house.  He barely cast a glance at his
	sleeping wife lying pale and grey on her cot.  After he had searched
	the entire premises he found himself sitting dully on a kitchen chair,
	under a bare electric bulb, pounding his fist against the kitchen
	table and repeating, "She's gone, she's gone."

	Then there rose up before his mind pictures of what two men had told
	him she had done.  With his stallions?  No, he couldn't believe that.
	He saw her white buttocks parted for the horses' long dicks and closed
	his eyes and spit.  No, not that.  NO, not with his horses.  He
	thought about how skittish they had become of late, almost spoiled for
	riding, and he remembered how he had talked with Brad about it.

	"They're ruined for riding now," he had said.  "I can't figure it out.
	It's like they've had a woman on their backs or something.  They just
	won't heel anymore."

	And he remembered now how Brad King had smiled.

	And with a donkey?  Ret swore he had seen her do a donkey act in a bar
	in Iowa City.  No, Ret was full of lies, vengeful lies.  He just
	wanted his money, and had come home to make trouble for Roland with a
	fistful of ridiculous lies.

	But then where was she now?  How had she escaped?  Where had she gone?
	He thought of the soft warm body, the odorous cunt he could ordinarily
	have gone into the barn and taken, now, when he wanted it so much, and
	it was gone!!!!!

	Brad King went home that night and had a long, if fitful, rest.  He
	was not worried about Lena for the moment.  He knew she was safe in
	Linda's tent.  But he was figuring out, even in his dreams, how he
	would get Lena permanently out of her father's clutches.

	Brad woke late in the morning and greeted his parents at breakfast.
	They had heard about the ruckus down at the Rooster the night before.
	Indeed it was the topic of conversations at breakfast tables that
	Sunday all over the county.  Men were asking men and women were asking
	women: "With a donkey?  With a horse?  Do you think she really did it?
	What goes on over there at the Hanson place anyway."

	Brad refused to say much, except that he had been there and had driven
	home with Roland.

	"Well I reckon you'd better get that bull over to him today anyway.
	Whether he's fighting with his son or not, I reckon business will
	still go on."

	"Yessir," said Brad and he went out to load the bull into the van.

	Brad King was not the first visitor to the Hanson residence that
	Sunday morning however.  Earlier that morning, much earlier, at dawn,
	a car had pulled into the driveway and Ret Hanson, stepping out, saw
	the figure of his father sitting hunched up at the kitchen table with
	all the kitchen lights on.

	Ret Hanson was humming as he knocked on the door and then stepped in,
	waking his father up.

	"I got her," was all he said.

	"Huh?" said Roland blinking.

	"She was gone when you got back here.  Right?" He licked his dry lips,
	just like his father.

	Roland said nothing.

	"I know where she is and I can get her right to you.  For $2000."

	Roland said, "I don't believe you."

	"Here, recognize these?" and Ret pulled from his back pocket a pair of
	crumpled up black panties.

	Roland put them to his face and smelled them deeply.  He took the
	panties away from his face and his eyes had a clearer look.  "Where is
	she," he said.

	"Ah, not until you hand the money over," Ret wagged a finger at him.

	Roland got up and went into the back bedroom.  He lifted the mattress
	his wife lay on and pulled at a wad of bills stuffed into the springs.
	He sat down and counted out a thousand dollars.  He let the mattress
	spring back.  He went back into the kitchen.  He had never noticed
	that his wife had ceased to breathe.

	"There, a thousand.  That's all I got.  Take it or leave it," said
	Roland slapping the money on the table.

	"I know you got more, old man, but I'll take this," said Ret after a
	moment's hesitation.  Then he said; "She's in the car.  In the trunk."

	In the dawn's first light, two men lifted a bound figure of a girl
	from the trunk of a car and carried her into the barn.

	The younger man drove off in the car and the older man, after checking
	that the girl's bonds were secure, and that she was firmly gagged,
	left her tightly tied up in the upper loft.  He went in and fell
	asleep on the couch where he was awakened later that morning by Brad
	King who arrived with the bull.

	Roland looked at him suspiciously.  Ret had told him how he'd gone,
	drunk and with a woman he'd picked up, to the carnival at the edge of
	town, after being thrown out of the Rooster.  They walked around
	spending what little money he'd had left, and then suddenly, behind a
	tent, he saw Lena.  She had slipped out of the tent to pee.  He'd come
	up behind her and hauled her away.  Roland wondered how she had gotten
	there.  He wondered if she'd had any help this time.

	But he said nothing.  He wanted to get rid of this boy.  He'd have to
	get some other man to help him out on the farm when he needed help
	from now on.

	He began to bring the bull out.  It was snorting and kicking like
	crazy.  It obviously didn't like travelling in this fashion.

	Brad got the bull into the pen where the cows would be brought to him.
	He asked Roland if he wanted him to stick around and help with the
	mating, but Roland said no.  Brad looked over at the barn once or
	twice, and Roland saw this and watched him.

	"This kind of job really requires more than one man around.  These
	bulls can be mean, as you know," said Brad.

	"Thanks, I'll be just fine.  You can come by and pick him up about
	five today.  My brother-in-law lives down the road and he's going to
	come by and help me out.  Thanks."

	There was nothing Brad could do but get back in his car and leave.

	Roland Hanson made his preparations carefully.  First he fed the bull,
	a piece of raw meat he'd kept for it in the refrigerator.

	The bull was a big mean-looking bastard, with a coarse spotted hide
	and horns that were black and twisted and nine inches long apiece.  He
	had an iron ring through his nose that was threaded a thick rope, and
	from a great distance, Hanson led the bull to the locks in the fence
	of the corral.  He managed to maneuver the bull's head into the
	harness where the bull remained, trapped.  Then he went into the barn
	for his daughter.

	The two cows, Millie and Bess, were going crazy.  They could smell the
	bull outside for they were rolling their eyes and mooing.  The horses
	too could sense the bull's strange presence.  The horses were acting
	skittish and whinnying, the white of their eyes bulging in their
	heads.

	He went up into the loft and brought his daughter down.  He ripped her
	clothes off of her around the bonds of her ropes.  Then he retied her,
	trussing her up as if she were a heifer, binding her hands and ankles
	together in one bunch.  He lifted this load over his shoulder and
	paraded her past the horses.  He stopped at the first one, Black
	Pride, and held his daughter, cunt up, to the horse's nose.  The horse
	sniffed at the bouquet offered to it, and whinnied and bucked.

	The second horse, Red Beauty began bucking too, even before he raised
	his odorous prize to the stallion's nose.  He took her out into the
	daylight and tied her so that she hung from a bar in the fence, on the
	other side of the pen from where the bull was tied up.

	Then he went back to the barn and led the two cows out.  They were
	fluttering and mooing like two cats in heat.  He let them loose in the
	pen and went back for the horses.  These too he tied up so they could
	watch from nearby.

	He had his whole family with him now, except for the woman who lay
	dead inside his house.

	He didn't know if Lena could see or was watching but he was sure she
	could sense what was going to happen.

	He put one cow in with the bull and let the bull loose.  He sat back
	on the fence to watch.

	The cow was acting queerly, sashaying back and forth in front of the
	bull, but then retreating to the far corner of the pen and mooing
	wildly at the slightest approach of the bull.

	The huge creature was on his guard at first.  He sensed the cow
	waiting for him at the far end of the pen, but he also was aware of
	many other presences he distrusted all around the pen.  He could smell
	horses, and another cow, and another smell he couldn't identify.

	He saw the red flaming meat of the cow's cunt pass in front of his
	eyes again, and, as if a red flag had been waved in front of his nose,
	he forgot about the possible presence of danger and followed after his
	nose.

	The smell of cow cunt was strong to him, and he sucked it in through
	his powerful nostrils.  Like the earth shifting below a volcano,
	before the volcano erupts, the bull's genitals moved, and his great
	cock rose slowly out of its furry sheath.  His balls stood up and
	became hard, as he pursued the cow into the corner of the pen where
	she managed to slip away from him again.

	Roland felt his own cockles rise as he watched the bull circle with
	the cow, on the hunt for cuntmeat.  He shifted on the fence so that
	his balls felt some ease from the pressure of the fence, and he looked
	down at the cunt of his daughter, as she hung from the fence beside
	him.  He could look down through her tied hands and feet straight into
	her pink meat.

	The cow shifted away again, mooing, but obviously wanting it, and as
	she turned, the bull turned too and caught her before she expected it,
	sinking his cock in right to the hilt as he dug into her hide with his
	hoofs.  His hoofs were rimmed with steel.

	Cow cunt, Roland thought as he watched.  The bull was riding high into
	the cow's ass and the cow was making a noise quite different from the
	one it made when being milked.  The bull pulled in and out of the pink
	cowmeat, sinking his enormous cock, which was brown and about
	seventeen inches long.  It looked like a big sausage, or a gun,
	whenever Roland glimpsed it as it was stuck and sunk again and again
	in the cow.  The cow shivered and shook and quaked and the bull pulled
	his cock out and dropped his hoofs and the cow trotted away.  Roland
	let her out of the pen.

	He put the other cow in there now and sat back to smoke a cigarette.

	The bull went straight for this second piece of meat.  The cow acted
	terrified.  She ran from one end of the pen to the other.  Roland had
	never seen her move that fast.

	The bull chased after her, goring her once or twice with his horns as
	she passed.  Blood spurted out of his cow's side, as Roland watched.
	The horses started to go crazy at the first smell of blood.  They were
	rearing up on their hind legs and straining and stretching their
	ropes.  They didn't like the near presence of the bull one little bit.

	The bull caught the cow in mid-pen as she changed direction in her
	running.  Before she could turn completely he had sunk his cock deep
	into her cunt.  She squealed and screeched and went down on her front
	legs while her ass reared way up.

	The bull was growling and roaring now as he socked it to her at the
	speed of lightning.  Just as quickly it was over and the cow was
	trotting away with come dripping out of her cunt under her tail, which
	she kept flapping.

	Now it was Lena's turn.

	Roland explained to Lena what he was doing to her and why she deserved
	it, as he led the cow out of the pen and threw the bull another piece
	of meat.  He squatted by Lena, tapping one thigh with his finger as he
	spoke.

	"Your brother Ret told me about how you, you, my own daughter, flesh
	and blood, took a donkey's dick, a donkey, into your mouth, where I
	put my cock, and how you put a donkey dick into your cunt, where I put
	my cock.  And somebody else, that friend of yours, Brad King, told me
	as how you been doing it with my horses, Red Beauty and Black Pride,
	for months now.  How you go down on my horses, ruining their
	dispositions, and sullying your mouth and your cunt, how you go down
	on them every night after I have taken you myself.

	"Now," her father continued, "I don't believe them!" The insane rage
	he was filled with was apparent in the grotesque contortions his face
	made as he tried to continue speaking.

	Lena starred at this terrible figure of a man.

	"But they both tell me it's true!  Your cunt and your mouth, and all
	the rest of your filthy body belong to me!"

	With great effort he pulled and steered the bull into the collar-like
	locks in the fence and secured it there again.  He brought the package
	of his daughter around to the bull's face and held her cunt up to his
	nose, only inches away.

	The bull reared, powerfully pulling at the locks in the fence so that
	Roland feared they would yield, but they held, and he continued to
	hold his daughter, cunt up, only inches away from the bull's face.

	The bull tried to gore her with his horns and Roland laughed to hear
	her terrified breathing as the bull's horns came close to her ass.  He
	wanted to spear her by the cunt on one of the bull's horns, he wanted
	to watch her get fucked like a cow.  He wanted to get the living
	daylights fucked out of her so he wouldn't have any more trouble with
	her.

	"Father!  PLEASE!  PLEASE!  PLEASE!"

	He heard her begging him and he felt good.  That was more like it.  He
	liked to hear her beg and he dangled her again in front of the bull's
	face.  He wondered if the bull had ever smelled woman-pussy before,
	and if it smelled very different to the bull than his own kind of
	pussy.

	The bull was kicking and rearing now and Roland realized he wouldn't
	be able to get her under the bull as he had dreamed without running
	the risk of getting killed himself, but his own cock was hard and
	erect beneath his pants and he unzipped his pants.

	Not four feet from the bull, and under the wild eyes of his stallions
	who bucked and screamed, he took out his big hard cock and looked down
	at his daughter who lay beneath him, trussed up like a heifer.  Her
	back was on the ground and her arms and legs tied together in the air,
	leaving her cunt sticking out of her ass like a cow's.

	He stopped and listened another moment to her screaming and begging.

	"PLEASE!  PLEASE!  PLEASE!"

	He looked like a man stopping to hear a tune he loves being faintly
	whistled by someone somewhere, unseen.  Then he sank his big dick into
	her beaver, holding her ass down with one powerful hand.

	He was sinking his shaft into her again and again while she continued
	to scream when the five cars pulled into his driveway and a dozen men
	piled out.  One of the cars was a police car.

	Brad King was the first to reach the girl and the man and he gave
	Roland Hanson a sock on his jaw that sent him flying through the air,
	his cock with him.  The police raced up behind him and told him to
	stay out of this, they would handle it.

	Brad wasn't listening to them.  He was untying Lena's bonds as fast as
	he could and taking off his shirt to cover her with.  She was
	screaming and crying hysterically and he held her tight in his big
	strong arms, cursing himself for ever leaving her, kissing her wrists
	and ankles where the ropes had cut into her flesh.

	He pulled her away from the presence of the bull.  The whole barnyard
	was going crazy, the horses wild with fear, the chickens scurrying
	underfoot, the place swarming with people.

	"Mr. Hanson, Mr. Hanson, roll over slowly, but fast!  Mr. Hanson, you
	are in danger, roll away!" the police commanded Roland Hanson through
	a megaphone.  Brad's fist had knocked him right under the bull's head
	and the bull was glaring down at him with its bloodshot eyes.

	Lena, in Brad's arms, heard the police's commands through the
	megaphone and she opened her eyes now and looked at her father,
	sprawled beneath the bull's hooves his dick in his hand.

	"KILL HIM!  KILL HIM!  KILL HIM, THAT DISGUSTING BASTARD!!" she began
	screaming hysterically and it was as if her screaming pulled a
	trigger.

	Suddenly as if the bull saw red he raised one hoof and stamped on the
	squirming thing beneath him.  Everyone pulled their breath in, and
	then looked away, except for Lena.  She alone looked straight at the
	smashed head of the man who had tormented her to the very edge of
	insanity.

	She threw her face into Brad's shoulder and sobbed and sobbed for a
	long time, as if finally she had found release.

The End

