Robert Moore - Hard guys and hostages

"Spread out, sweetheart," he ordered as he came toward her. With leaden tiredness, Julie lay back on the bed and scooted to the center. She spread her legs wide for him, and flushed as his eyes went straight to her pussy. She looked straight up at the ceiling, hoping he would get it over with in a hurry. That was the one blessing in this trade, she thought. He wasn't as much of a love play artist as Max. He was virile enough, that was certain. Just as virile as Max. But he didn't have much imagination. And he wasn't interested in exciting his partner.

He came down on the bed hard, bouncing a bit, and took her in his arms. Julie allowed herself to be held, and responded automatically by placing her own hands on Pete's shoulders. He was hard and knotty, like Jim, and if she closed her eyes, she thought, she might be able to pretend it was her husband atop her.

She felt the bed shift under her weight, felt the heat of his body as he hovered over her for a second. Then he lowered himself onto her, and she had to work a little harder to breathe. His weight drove down upon her, shoving her into the bed, and she wound her arms about his neck. His chest, bristly and hard, crushed her breasts, and his cock was stiff between her thighs.

Then he raised his hips, and she knew it was coming, the moment of entry. She shut her eyes tight and held herself stiff, waiting. She didn't have long to wait. Pete's hand guided his cock partly into her, and then he thrust home, all the way in. His cock was a big one, and it sent an almost painful sensation through her at the same time that it sent the automatic thrill of pleasure through her loins.

She tightened her arms about his neck as he embraced her and began to pump and thrust, going into his dance of pleasure, fucking her with obvious relish. His breathing was loud in her ears.

Julie felt herself moistening below, felt the pleasure flowing through her, and she ground her own hips into motion, answering his actions with her own, pumping and thrusting in reply to him. The pleasure was fairly strong, though not as intense as it had been with Max. There had been no foreplay, nothing to excite her, and she had to work at seeming enthusiastic. She didn't know how much pride a man like Pete might take in his ability to make a woman enjoy his lovemaking. It was possible that he might get an additional sadistic thrill out of forcing a girl to like what she wanted to hate. So it was best to act out passion even if she didn't feel it. There was no telling how angry he might get, or how he would take out his anger if she disappointed him or made him feel inadequate.

Julie wound her arms more tightly about his neck and raised her legs about his waist, crossing her ankles behind him to lock him into the recess of her crotch. She worked the muscles of her lower belly, pumping at him, milking him even as her hips continued to move. Her actions succeeded in wringing a grunt from him, and then he was moving faster, accelerating his hips, thrusting and receding, driving into her with greater speed and force, until she could feel his belly begin to churn and tremble, and she knew he was about to come. She wasn't anywhere near a climax of her own, but she knew she should pretend one, so she let out a howl, a simulation or delight that she hoped would be convincing. Then his voice answered hers, and he came, flooding her all at once, and she let out another cry as he topped off his fucking with a last burst of motion.

When it was over, she lay beside him for a long moment, breathing hard, and staring at the ceiling, Julie let the feeling of self-disgust wash over her. It was compounded by the frustration of nearing, but not reaching, a climax. She felt soiled by Pete, as she hadn't felt with Max. She wasn't able to decipher the feeling, but it was there, unmistakably there, and she wished that Max had kept her.

A flood of shame filled her at the thought. If Max had kept her, Sally would have gone to Pete. At least, she thought, it might be easier for Sally with Max. And then she remembered how Sally had looked in the kitchen. It had gone easy with her, all right. She hadn't looked as though she found the experience particularly harrowing.

What did you expect of her? Would you he happier if she'd been broken by it?

Yes, she thought, she probably would be happier if Sally had been broken by the experience, or at least if she had been bent a little by it.

Pete's even breathing told Julie that he had fallen asleep. He could have been faking it, she thought, but she was certain this time that he wasn't. He was asleep, all right.

She looked across the room at the single bed, with the pile of clothing on it. Under that clothing were the guns, the two guns he had put there, loaded and ready to be used. She wondered if she could reach them in a dash, Pete was really out, from the look of him. He hadn't slept this soundly last time. Probably the tensions of the escape had finally left him, and he was exhausted. Yes, she thought, she could probably reach the guns if she really tried it. She would have a very good chance of picking up the shot gun and spinning and firing. She would hardly be able to miss at this range. The shotgun would gut him like a cleaned fish, and then she would be able to pick up the baby and run for the window.

But of course that would leave the rest of them to the tender mercies of Max and Butch. It occurred to Julie for the first time that Max was keeping people apart. Even when the adults were all in the kitchen, the baby was kept in here. And when she had the baby with her, to feed it or something, he would keep the others somewhere else. No one would be able to escape without leaving someone else behind. So he had managed to hold them all prisoners, and at the same time, make them all hostages to each other. Julie felt a flood of admiration for his cleverness. He hadn't made a public statement about the policy. He simply kept them apart, at least one person apart from the others, all the time he'd had them. It was a smart policy. She had to hand it to him. She looked at the bed against the far wall one more time and lay back again. There would be no trying for the guns. Not now, anyway. Not until there was an error, not until Max made a mistake. And that, she thought admiringly, might be some time.

The run-in with Pete had been a gut twister, Max thought as he walked back to the bedroom. Sally walked along in front of him, holding her robe closed with her two hands.

Things were getting tough now, and he knew they would get tougher. Pete and Butch were necessary for the time being, unless he wanted to kill everyone in the house. And that could lead to greater trouble later. Even a farmhouse in the sticks might hive visitors from time to time. And that meant he needed someone here who belonged here. Someone who could greet visitors and shoo them away without arousing suspicion. The only one he could count on at all was the wife, Julie. And he could only count on her, of course, as long as he had something to hold over her head. Start killing off the others and she might decide to make a try the next time someone came along.

Of course, eventually it would be time to leave the farm altogether and head out for — well, out. But that was in the future. In the meantime it would be best, and safest, to hang out here. And as long as he had this many people to hold captive, he needed the help he could get from Pete and Butch. That meant that he would have to watch them. They were dangerous, both of them. He had known that all along, of course. He had selected them on that basis. Dangerous men were a benefit when you were breaking out of stir, and when you were making your way across the countryside, trying to keep the heat from catching you. They were even a benefit now, keeping three females and a healthy farmer in line. But they were still dangerous, and that meant they were a threat to him as well as to his prisoners.