Jon Reskind - Caesar conquers book III

Suddenly, she shot at Morgan: "Does Mark know that Caesar and that other sonofabitch dog attacked and raped me?"

"Hell, everybody in the valley knows it, Lydia," the big, middle-aged chief of police replied, running a beefy hand through his grey-hair. "Look… come into the kitchen and have some coffee. I've got a bit of choice news you're going to be interested in hearing. Come on…"

The auburn-haired bachelorette followed, but her embittered mind was seething with rage at the new young husband she considered to be a possession of her own. Damn him, she venomously thought, he hadn't even come to the ranch to investigate the vicious attack on her, nor find out how she was… nothing! Goddamn him! If only that raping bastard, Caesar, hadn't stolen the pictures they'd taken of Jean Blakely getting fucked silly by Link Morgan and eating her, Lydia Newell's pussy at the same time…!

She threw herself down at the soiled kitchen table and snapped: "I told you I wanted Mark Blakely's balls to tack up over my bed, Link! Well now I want them more than ever!"

Morgan's red-face broadened into an obscene grin as he dropped down across from her, the coffee-pot in his hand. "And maybe I've just got the secret to that for you, honey," he said, his mean, lecherous eyes fixed on her full, pointed breasts which had performed a little quivering dance for him when she threw herself onto the chair. Shit, like his sixteen-year old Annie, this hot cunted little bitch preferred the braless feel. It must give them some kind of hot charge when they ripple and sway, he lewdly reasoned… and she had a pair of beauties that he'd already seen naked, along with the rest of her sexy, white curves! Goddamn, he couldn't help wonder if she was as good a fuck as she looked. Not that he'd trade his dead sister's daughter for her, but a piece of that haughty young ass of hers would be nice, he thought, remembering the naked sight of it when she was between Jean Blakely's spread legs licking that luscious creature's pink, wet cunt! "G-Grab a cup there, doll," he managed, his lecherous brain beginning to follow a thought pattern he'd intended to hold off for a while yet. "Here, we'll spike it with a little of this bourbon, eh?"

Lydia didn't answer, but set the saucerless cup before her for him to fill. As for the bourbon, she welcomed the offer, deciding she needed something to help soothe her. Subconsciously, she watched him spill a heavy measure of whiskey into the black liquid, while her mind filled with flashes of scenes from their salacious compromising of a drugged Jean Blakely and the stack of lurid pictures they'd taken to blackmail Mark. Damnit, it'd been a perfect plan! She would've had him right where she wanted him… if that Goddamned brute dog, Caesar, hadn't out-manuevered her, finally making off with both the snapshots and negatives! God, it was unbelievable… the massive dog's uncanny brain…! It was damned near human! Still, if she hadn't so sluttishly lost her own wits beneath his huge, sodomizing animal-cock…!

"Suppose I tell you that Annie admitted a little secret to me this morning, Lydia baby?" Morgan was saying, shattering her lusty thought pictures.

"W-What…? What kind of secret?" she questioned, not certain that she liked his use of intimate endearments. Theirs was nothing more than a mutual, working association. "Let's not play games, Morgan. I'm in no mood for it!"

"Okay, honey… here it is! The other day when you saw Blakely and Annie go into the old quarry… well he did it!" the barrel-chested man said with a gross smirk.

"He did what… and what the hell are you drooling so slovenly about?" the twenty-six year old bachelorette irritably jabbed, taking half of her spiked coffee in two needing swallows.

Link Morgan clenched his big hand into a fist beneath the table, dirty nails digging into its toughened palm. No, he wouldn't let himself get up-tight with her, and Christ knows it would be easy enough with that acid-tongue of hers and him with no sleep for twenty-four hours! But he had other ideas that were a hell of a lot more cock-throbbing as well as securing. He couldn't help but wonder if she would be as good a fuck as Annie, or Jean Blakely had been… even as fiery as she was? It was a gamble. Aaron Newell would destroy him sure as hell if he found out, and he was going to need him on his side if Mark Blakely's Goddamned nosing around gave him anything concrete to work with! On the other hand, how would he find out… unless Lydia told him? And that wasn't feasible… not if she willingly put-out for him…! No, he couldn't afford to get sore at the sexy little bitch. Instead, he broadened his smile and lewdly said: "He fucked her, Lydia baby! Mark Blakely fucked my sixteen-year old niece… a minor! Now, how does that grab you?"

"Like a saber-toothed tiger!" she hissed at him, his filthy, four-letter word-use having its usual lust-inciting effect on her, while his over-all statement cut through her like a knife. Mark Blakely, the sonofabitch! Damn him! Damn him! Who else in the valley had he dared to fuck? "How do you know it's true?"

"Because Annie told me, doll… and my sweet little Annie wouldn't lie to her loving uncle," Link replied, his mean eyes narrowing as he let his guttural voice trail off with suggestive meaning.

Lydia's intense, green eyes studied him. Finally, she hissed: "You incestuous bastard, Morgan!" Then, she lifted the cup to her lips to partially hide the sensuous little smile his revelation had aroused. "What've you got in mind, lecher?"

The big man proudly chuckled. He picked up the coffee-pot and poured into her cup, following with an uncorking of the bourbon bottle. Lydia sat waiting, her deep green eyes leveled on him as he added the whiskey to the steaming liquid.

"Supposing she could make it happen again," he said, "… lure our young deputy sheriff into another little fuck-match, and we're prepared with the camera…?"

Once more, the graphic, four-letter word set off a tiny rippling sensation through Lydia's liquor-warmed belly. "The question is, will, and can she do it?" the curvaceous ranch-heiress put to him.

Link made a goatish little chuckle. "As far as 'will', there's no question about that. But the 'can'… that remains to be seen. I think of Blakely as being caught up in a loose moment when he laid her. I don't have to tell you that he stinks with principles. Whatever happened that day, my Annie caught him right… but she's willing to give it a try… providing…"

"Providing what?"

"She wants ten-grand for her performance," Morgan lied, but he wasn't about to let it be known that his niece would do it just out of her love for fucking. Besides, he could use a little nest-egg if things got too hot in the valley, and he figured his offering the use of Annie was worth that.

"That's a hell of a lot of money, Morgan!" Lydia said, her eyes narrowing. "Where does she think it's coming from?"

Link grinned. "Now where do you think, Lydia baby?"

For a long moment, she sat silently contemplating the unscrupulous man across from her. She sipped at her coffee, sensing the effects of the warming liquor flowing through her. "And supposing I agree," she probed, "how do we know she'll perform?"

"Simple. You don't pay unless she does… and successfully. What's to lose, doll… except time and energy?" Morgan answered.

Lydia had already made up her mind. Anything to entrap Mark Blakely and force him back to her. Damn him…! Then: "You have any pot here?"

The big police chief grinned and arose from the table. He left her there, going into the other room, and her thoughts quickly reverted to the huge man and his attractive teen-aged niece involved incestuously, triggering something lustfully deep inside her. Obscene, imaginary visions of them involved in forbidden sex intrigued her erotically working imagination. God, the lecherous bastard had the biggest, stiffest cock she'd ever seen on a man! Only yesterday she'd vowed that when she was hard-up enough she was going to enjoy the whole solid length of it all up inside her…!