Karim al-Zib - Wild in the country book three

"Let's take her now," Sam said breathlessly. "Let's cut that soft little pussy in twenty pieces and hide the parts all over the station house. In the desk, in the frig, in the…"

"Not yet. Let's get it right first. We've got to have some place to do the dirty deed on her where nobody will hear her screams. I hear there's an old, abandoned house on the Pace farm, but I want to find out just where and check it out."

Sam grimaced. "I'm dying to fix the little bitch. I've never done it that way before."

"Yeah," Bill said, "but I want to make sure we can put the screws to the nigger sheriff, and to the max. I want films of it. Hell, we can sell it as a snuff film all over the world. A babe like that!"

And while they talked, DesirЋe turned and went into the house.

Closing the door, she leaned back against it, thinking. Mark had been so cold lately, so unaffectionate, and she wondered why. The dreams that had plagued her were now only vague memories, but something irritating sat in the back of her mind. And while Mark ignored her sexually, her own frustrated desire grew. It had become a constant itch between her legs, a panty-wetting ache. She wondered if it was the summer heat that seemed to singe the hairs of her tender vagina.

DesirЋe went to her room and took off her expensive suit that she had just worn to choir practice at the little church she attended regularly. Pastor Hemmings had been there watching her with a friendly smile and an indecipherable gleam in his brown eyes, and having his eyes on her like that while her body seemed to hunger for sex did not make matters one little bit better.

It was daring that she left off her bra when she changed into the light, white, sleeveless summer dress that came down to the top of her knee. Her nipples, she noted, were brazenly visible against the thin fabric and she eschewed nylon stockings. She never needed them anyway; her legs were so smooth and creamily tanned that nylons were redundant at any time. For further comfort, she added a pair of flat, canvas shoes and bound her long, golden hair back behind her ears.

Going to the kitchen, she poured herself a glass of orange juice and went into the living room to sit. And watch television. It was going to be a boring day.

Mark drove his car as steadily as he could toward the rendezvous he had made with Nancy Pace. He was going to have to break it off with Nancy good and proper, that was for certain. He could not afford a scandal right now as he was approaching the election that could make his political career. The teenager would have to stick to her fiancЋ Clete Anderson and keep things proper between her and Mark. And then there was Priscilla…

Yesterday she had been seen in a dreadful and filthy state wandering down a country road before being picked up by Dr. Hemmings – and taken straight to his office. The strangest thing had been the near hysterical phone call from Priscilla's father last night, telling Mark that he was putting a bounty of fifty thousand dollars on the head of each of the three members of the dog pack individually. And Mark now knew that Lobo and his lot had claimed another victim. Mark considered putting bars on the bedroom windows, and he had checked and loaded his pistol, making sure it was in the drawer beside the bed.

The nightmare went on, didn't it? Lobo had destroyed, or at least seriously damaged, his relationship with DesirЋe. At times, he thought the old feelings were coming back, and then the weird tableau of that night last week would impinge, the sight of DesirЋe on all fours being solidly fucked from the rear by that evil dog. It was a grotesque nightmare that gave no promise of ever going away.

Mark drove down Main Street and stopped in front of the electronics shop next to Hemmings' office, exactly where Nancy had told him to stop. Though he saw nothing, suddenly she was there, slender, fresh-cheeked, and unbearably pretty in her short skirt and airy blouse. Looking at her he found it hard to imagine that she had undergone the same ordeal as DesirЋe had last week, that it had all started with her. The advantage was that Mark had not been there to see it, had not been pushed from his copulating position and made to watch the debasement of the young female by the rampant canine.

"Let's go, Mr. Denning," she urged. "We don't want to be seen."

"Look, Nancy, we've got to talk about…"

"Yes, we do, Mr. Denning. Mark. We need to talk a lot. Please, let's go. Out by the airport."

Mark gunned the engine and moved forward, unaware that Dr. Hemmings, gazing from the second-storey window of the apartment he kept over his office, had seen Nancy furtively slip into the BMW under very suspicious circumstances.

Within ten minutes they were near the airport and Nancy told him to pull over at a motel. With a start, Mark realized that this was the motel where he had been seduced by Priscilla not so long ago. Running around to the other side, Nancy swung his door open and tugged him out, dragging him along to a doorway. While he gaped in disbelief, she produced a key to one of the rooms – was this the room where he and Priscilla had had their sexual assignation not long ago? – opened it and pulled him in. The crafty little bitch already had a key, had already checked them in.

Hearing her firmly close the door behind him, Mark said, "Now, listen, Nancy. I said we'd talk, not sleep together."

"Sleep?" she said coming around to face him. "I have no intention of sleeping." Her face was uplifted and ineffably lovely and vulnerable. It was hard to imagine her being raped by Lobo or in a marriage with Clete Anderson. Her hands came up to his waist, lightly, diffidently caressing. She was very unsure of herself, and it was hard to understand how she could have been crafty enough to arrange this room ahead of time and then entice him into it.

"Listen, Nancy, please," Mark said to bolster his resolve. "I'm a married man, and if anyone knew that we were in this room together, whatever happens, there would be hell to pay. My political career depends on my being morally spotless." Mark tried to disengage himself, but her hands came right back to him, shyly working at his belt buckle. "Nancy, I know we made love once and it was very, very nice, but I really can't do this again, not to DesirЋe. And you, what about Clete?"

Nancy's soft and cloying hands were unzipping his pants and her face was against the side of his neck, her full, red lips kissing, her little flashing tongue licking up beneath his ear.

"Yes, Mr. Denning, I know." Her hands slipped into his briefs and found the penis that was inexorably firming up for action. "But I can't get you out of my mind. Or my heart. I've loved you since I first saw you. And we both know you're not morally spotless. You were here once with Priscilla Devereaux." Her voice was small, childish, and sincerely truthful, and he felt her whole body trembling with excitement at his nearness. To still her shaking, he wrapped his arms protectively around her, and she seemed to catch fire at that moment. While one hand cupped beneath his vibrating testicles, her other arm hooked around his neck, drawing his face to hers.

They kissed, and it was a kiss warm with love and innocent passion. He was somewhat shocked that she knew about his assignation with Priscilla. He would not have thought that all that time she spent with Clete, undoubtedly fucking themselves silly, would have left her with any innocence at all, but now remembering that she had been a virgin just a few months ago and that she had sexual experience with just two men, one of them himself, he understood. She was still a teenager with a crush. Clete was an expedient substitute, not the romantic dream every girl has. Her soft, firm body was pressed desperately against him from her mouth all the way to her knees, and the way she was touching his prick was irresistible. With a groan he gave himself up to the kiss.