Val Marrick - Whipped And Raped

She was spent, exhausted. The long golden hair lay lank.

"She liked it," breathed Estancia. "Jesu Cristo, the puta got off on tucking the dog!" Unconsciously she began to finger her giant tits.

"I was right about you, blondie!" Estancia cried.

"You are just a nasty bitch-slut. That dog tucking you was just what you needed. Now you know what you are, gringa. You're just a dirty animal!" Her voice rose in a hysteric shriek of triumph.

On the floor, Sally's body was cracked by convulsions. The euphoria of coming was gone, and the disgust had hit her. She made a gobbling noise and threw up on the floor.

After Estancia was done gloating over her latest humiliation of her lovely captive, she ordered Sally to clean up the mess she had made. Moving in a Daze, she found a mop and obeyed. She was not tied, nor did any of her captors keep a grip on her. She was too numbed and broken to try escaping right now.

When the floor was cleaned, Carlos was ordered to get Sally clean. Estancia warned him not to get turned on and stick his cock into the prisoner while washing her. "You got more important things to do with that giant chorizo of yours tonight, compadre," Estancia informed him. He grinned at her calling his cock a sausage, as-well as the promise of what lay ahead.

While Fred ran King Conann down the road to his owners, Carlos hustled Sally into the bathroom. The blonde had been surprised earlier to find the cabin had a shower, fed from a big water tank out back. The cabin looked rustic from the outside, but was really fairly comfortably equipped.

"Stancia's takin' a nap,!" Carlos said as he started the water, testing its temperature with a large brown hand. "I could fuck you silly in here and she'd never know. But I don't want to take no sloppy seconds from no dog. So get your ass in that shower and clean up, cunt."

His voice was harsh and unsympathetic. Dimly, Sally realized he had been as disgusted by her performance as turned on. Her enjoying it had made him think she was a real animal herself. She wanted to tell him, make him see that it was what he and his friend, and the woman they so slavishly obeyed, had done to her that made her act in such a degraded way. They had degraded her.

Sally stepped into the shower and stood, scarcely feeling the water running off her bare hide. "Get busy!" Carlos snarled. "Get yourself soaped and rinsed, pronto. Or I'll wait till Freddie gets back, and have him go over you with a wire brush!"

At this threat Sally picked up the bar of soap. Methodically she soaped all over her water gleaming body with it. She knew Carlos didn't want to soap her himself for fear of getting turned on and flicking her, against Estancia's instructions.

The girl wondered just what Fred and Carlos were afraid of, to obey Estancia so totally. Sally had seen the Chicana control them with the wiles of her body, had herself felt the dark-haired beauty's enormous sexual vitality. But there was more to it than that. There was an element of fear.

Running the soap over her tits, nipples hard from the water running over them, Sally thought she knew what it was. She had never met anybody really insane before. The closest she had ever come, ironically, was the time her father had raped her on the couch. Glowing in his eyes was what she knew must have been madness.

That same look was in Estancia Cruz's midnight eyes all the time. And the look that came over that lovely olive face in times of anger or lust, frustration or evil triumph, made that look seem like the soberest sanity. The Chicana's expression at such times was really unearthly. Like a fiend from Hell.

Reluctantly, Sally reached down to her cunt. She spread the lips with her finger and shuddered as she felt the trapped juices run out. Dog come and the sauces of her own unnatural lust. God, what had happened to her? With her fingers she soaped the inside of her cunt, cleaning away the remnants of that ungodly fucking. She scoured herself as if trying to cleanse away the shame, until Carlos asked brusquely did she plan to stay in there all night? Then she rinsed, washed her hair.

Her wet body shone magnificently in the light as she stepped from the shower.

She could see that her appearance from behind the translucent curtain had given Carlos an Instant hard-on. She couldn't know that standing there wet and naked, she was the most innocently beautiful creature the stocky man had ever seen.

He seated himself on the toilet's lowered cover and treated himself to a smoke while Sally toweled herself dry. His eyes roved over her nakedness in constant appreciation. Sally no longer noticed. After what she'd been through, standing naked in a bathroom with a strange man watching was nothing to her.

With the feeling of cleanliness, Sally felt a return of self-respect that she hadn't had since her kidnapping. Or, really, since that terrible moment a century ago when her father had discovered her and Ricky on the couch.

Ricky. How long since she had thought of him? He belonged to another world, it seemed now. The gentleness of his fucking, the warmth of his love, seemed alien to her, as if she'd imagined them or read about them in a book. Did he miss her? Was he searching for her? She knew deep inside that he wouldn't abandon her. But Sally Canavan was beyond hope. She knew her boyfriend would never find her in time to save her from whatever fiendish degradation and perhaps disfigurement his demon sister had in mind.

All there was now was to face her fate proudly, not let Estancia see her humiliated any more, no matter what was done to her.

Sally piled her dripping hair atop her head and wrapped it in a dry towel.

Then, without a glance at Carlos, she went past him and walked into the living room.

Eyes riveted on the jouncing of the girl's naked buns, Carlos followed. He noticed that she stood a little taller. Her spirit was coming back. That might make Estancia's climactic torture and humiliation of the captive all the sweeter, but the new spring in the nude blonde's stride might also mean she had been pushed too far and would no longer crawl to the devilish sexual manipulations of Estancia Cruz. He was wondering what had caused the change in Sally, when he heard a scuffling sound behind him.

Instinct made him turn with the switchblade sticking open in his hand.

A booted foot flashed up and kicked the knife in a glittering arc across the room. A straight right smash of a fist rocked his head back.

Putting his head down, he lunged straight into his attacker's stomach. A hammerblow on the back of his neck made his head swim even as he heard the breath chuff out of his opponent.

Sally gasped as Carlos charged. Bent over his broad back, flailing with his fists, was Ricky Cruz!

Carlo pounded Ricky's sides. The youth brought his knee up into Carlos' chest with a thud. The heavy man gasped and wrapped muscular arms around him.

Breathing heavily, sweating and straining, the two men grappled. Sally heard Estancia's voice from the bedroom, wondering what in hell the racket was. The brunette's lush figure appeared at the door just as Ricky tore free and reeled across the room. He bounced off the wall and went down to one knee. Carlo shook his head like an angry bull and lunged after him.

Ricky spun to meet him. Steel flashed and tore. The brawny Chicano bellowed and stepped back, clutching at his stomach.

He brought his hand up, bloody. Estancia screamed, terror in her voice. Carlo. looked down at the dripping red tear diagonally across his belly. Dumbly, he felt through his shirt.

The knife had only torn through the skin of his hard-muscled stomach. He looked at the youth, crouching by the wall, Carlos' knife a silver gleam in his hand.

Carlos was shorter than the other, and far heavier with muscle and sinew. But there was no way he would take Ricky on at this moment, even with a magnum. It wasn't just the knife. Right now Ricky's black eyes were burning with the same mad, wicked fire he had seen so often in Estancia's eyes.