One photo, taken by my brother in the woods, a witness to my indiscretion with Timber the dog, an ever so small 35-mm negative, has turned my life upside down. In less than two days, I have gone from an innocent sixteen year old girl to a slut for use by anyone that my brother, Chester, gives me to. I am riding next to my brother from the sawmill where I have been rented and used in the most depraved fashion. My panties and bra were taken as souvenirs and I am left with only my short skirt and blouse to cover myself with. My long brown hair, wet from being rinsed in the cold river, is drying in the wind from the open truck window. I can feel the soft fiber of my cotton blouse slap with the wind against my small breast as they bounce all most painfully with every bump on the gravel road. The air from the floor vent gently lifts my short skirt and caresses my bare damp bottom, chilling my other lips as the men's wetness evaporates and dries, a constant reminder that my body has been used. My breast are cold under my summer blouse, I look down and can see my hard nipples outlined under the thin material.
Chester parks the pickup camper next to the picnic table that my mom and dad are setting at. The blood drains from my face as I become aware that I will have to climb down from the truck's cab in front of mom and dad without exposing myself to them. I carefully step out of the cab, holding my skirt down so my parents will not see that their little girl is not wearing panties. I quickly turn my back to mom and run to the back of the camper. I climb in and grab a pair of panties and a bra. In a rush, I put the bra on then pull up the panties as I place a panty liner in their crotch. I just have time to catch my breath when I here dad asking if I am OK. Every fiber in my brain is screaming for help. OK? No, I am not OK. I have just been degraded as a slut by my brother, sold to the men at the sawmill, raped repeatedly and forced to have sex with a junkyard dog. Yet, I answer in a forced natural voice, that I am OK, every thing is just fine, that I just tore a hole in my skirt and needed a new one. I climb out of the camper shell, glance over at Chester then drop my head and walk on shaky legs to the latrine. Inside, I pull my panties down and set on the wooden seat. I cry softly as I look down at my panties and see the mixed excretions from the men and the dog mingling in the panty liner. I push down trying to squeeze out the last drops of their vial seeds.
What am I going to do? I should tell dad that Chester climbed into the camper last night and raped me, that he drove me down to the sawmill and sold me to the men working there, that he forced me to have sex with their dog as he and the men laughed. I should tell dad the whole story that Chester surprised me in the woods yesterday and has pictures of me giving myself to Timber our family dog. My tears just will not stop. What am I going to do? I could take a rock and pound Chester's head with it until he stops laughing at me, but the pain it would cause mom and dad is more than I could bear. Slowly I decide to do nothing, resigned to the humiliation, what can I do. I pull up my wet panties, wipe my eyes and leave the latrine.
I walk back to the campsite, grab Timber's leash and head down the river. I walk for about an hour, just pulling the poor dog along, not even stopping when a rock or bush tries to get his attention. After an hour, I stop and set on a large rock jutting out into the river, that the sun has warmed. Timber knows that something is wrong, he lies next to my feet and is looking at me with his sad green eyes. "Timber, how can I hate you for this? I know it's not your fault that I am in trouble and my brother is black mailing me into doing disgusting things." I reach out and slowly stroke my only friend, on the head. Timber shifts his head to lay softly on my lap. I gently pet Timber and lean down to brush my lips over his soft fur. Timber raises his head and licks at my face. The abuse I suffered this morning is slowly slipping away. I open my mouth to Timber and feel his warm tongue caress mine. I feel tingly and soft all over. A knot forms in my throat, then the tears start to fall again trickling down my cheek to drip off my chin. I must be some kind of a freak, my brother has just horribly abused me, the seeds of strangers still wet inside of me and yet I feel myself responding to the dog. How can I be having these sexual feelings for Timber? I tentatively press my hand under my panties and start to touch myself. I lift my hand to my lips and taste my wetness. The taste is bitter, salty and not mines. It is the taste of strangers seeping out of my womb. Deposited inside of me by the abuses of strange men and their dog. In despair, I hold onto the only one that cares about me and gently caress his ears as he licks into my mouth. Tears are in my eyes as I climb down the rock, pushing the humiliating desire out of my mind and reluctantly start the long plod back to camp.
As night falls and the air is filled with the sound of crickets and toads, I lay in the camper alone; fearful that the next sound I hear could be Chester. Several times I awake with a start, at the sound of a rock rolling in the river and then set waiting, listening and hoping it's not Chester. I strain to see through the screen window into the dark. The moon cast faint shadows around the campsite. I can see the dark shape of Timber sleeping under the picnic table. I gape outside until my eyes weight me down and I slump to the mattress asleep. In the morning I wake tired, yet thankful not to have been molested during the night.
I dress in the only clothes that I have packed, a short blue skirt and a red pullover blouse. I climb out of the camper to the smell of bacon and apples cooking on the camp stove. At the latrine, I check my panties and find that I have finally stopped leaking the strangers' seeds and no longer need a panty liner. After breakfast, we pack and head back down the river. It feels so good to be going home, Timber sleeps near the tailgate and I set looking out the windows at the green trees and rocks. In two hours, we are at the head of the Gully River where the Cherry River joins. Dad pulls off the main road and drives a short distance to a small picnic area right on the Gully where the Cherry rushes in.
I climb out of the truck and I'm met by Chester carrying Timber's leash. "Dad says we need to take Timber for a walk, so come on Peewee." I glance at dad who nods and then I follow Chester and Timber down the bank and across the shallow Cherry. Once on the other side Chester leads us up the bank through some trees and into a clearing. Timber sniffs a large rock and then cocks his leg and paints it yellow. "This will do just fine don't you think, Peewee."
I look around and see that we are in a small clearing surrounded by trees. I ask, "Will do for what?"
Chester intones, "Oh, come on peewee, don't play hard to get. You know you want Timber. I was watching you yesterday letting Timber lick your mouth."
My legs quiver, as I look at Chester with my mouth open. "What? Do you follow me around all the time! Look I am not going to participate in any more of your sick games. You can just go to hell!"
"Look peewee, here's the deal, you drop your panties and get down on your hands and knees and let Timber fuck you. If you don't, you know what will happen with the photos, don't you."
My heart stops at his cruel words. I look around for someone to appeal to and see no one. I beg. "Chester, please don't make me do this!"
Chester snarls. "Time is wasting peewee, you don't want to take so long that dad gets worried and comes looking for us and finds you stuffed full of Timber, do you. Now, drop your panties and get down on all fours, like the bitch, you are!"
My hands work there way up under my short skirt and slowly hook my panties. As if being controlled by some unknown force, my hands slowly slide down along my thighs, until softly, my panties drop to my feet from just below my knees. I stand pleading with my eyes my panties down around my ankles, my knees trembling under my own small weight. Chester yells and gives me a shove. "Get down on all fours!" I trip in my panties and land in the soft grass on my hands and knees. Chester lifts my short blue skirt over my back. I hang my head in shame and stay on my hands and knees feeling the cool mountain air kiss my bare bottom. Timber trots behind me and starts softly licking my downy hairs. His tongue laps wetly, gently dampening my openings. Abruptly, Timber starts licking harder at my bare bottom; he digs his hot tongue dripping with lust between my soft lips, virtually prying his jaw inside of me. I open my wet eyes, look between my legs and see that Chester has grabbed Timber's tool and is working him into a fever pitch. I gasp then grit my teeth as Timber pounces on my back; grabbing my hips with his strong front legs and hammering at my bottom with is engorged weapon. I cry out, as Timber misses his mark and pokes me repetitively in rapped succession. I jump forward. Timber jerks me back and this time his aim is true. I am driven into hard and fast. I just have time to gasp for air as Timber jackhammers me again and again. My bottom is hot from the friction. Sweat is pouring down my chin as I am rocked back and forth, over and over again. As Timber pulls me up tight to his hind legs and starts pumping his seeds into me, I here a clicking sound and through the tears I see Chester recording my humiliation on 35-millimeter film.
Chester gloats. "Oh god, that was hot peewee! What a contrast, your white skin against Timbers dark brown fur, all set in a background of green trees under a blue open sky. What a slut you are to be locked by the dog, out in the open. Who knows who will come along."
.... There is more of this story ...