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.
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.
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.
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.
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