Chapter 349

Sausalito had been shocked by the arrest of the very Reverend Emanuel Luther Mosby. And his number-two, Cora Ledoux. The chief — Rémy Thibodeaux — didn’t respond to questions.

Of course the entire town was abuzz. Rumors abounded. Satanism, Black Magic, child trafficking, Yankee infiltration ... speculation was rampant.

The City Attorney, Leslie Patout, also refused to answer questions. Although once the official charges were filed ... well that fanned the flames even more.

Reckless endangerment. Child endangerment. Assault and battery. Blackmail. Malicious intent. The list went on and on and become blurred in the public mind. No question — these were two evil mo-fos.

Because the Pentecostal Church of Christ Ridden was so extreme — speaking in tongues, handling of snakes, ecstasy-fainting — the in-town theorizing grew even wilder — forced marriages of preteen girls, human sacrifices, immaculate conception,

Then — the day after the arrests — another shocker. An out-of-state Yankee lawyer from way up in Memphis showed up in town. Sharon Cutler was 62, famous for the ferocity of her take-no-prisoners defense-tactics.

And, Cutler had an astonishing success record. She was also notoriously expensive. So, what was this big-time, big-shot doing in poky little Sausalito? And, who in the hell was paying for her? Christ Risen had called an emergency meeting of the deacons to discuss the arrest-bombshell, but they hadn’t convened by the time Cutler rode into town.

That afternoon, Mosby and Ledoux were out on bail. Only $1,000 each. That fueled further speculation — why so little for so many heinous charges? Had the Chief and City Attorney overreacted? Was their a countersuit in the works? Was that why Cutler appeared so suddenly?

Sausalito, Mississippi was a blue-collar town. Isolated from the rest of the state with land-access limited to a single two-lane highway — André Previn Road — to the north. The other three sides were surrounded by water. Waterways, small rivers, creeks, and inlets that contained the even more isolated Cajun Bayous.

So, Sausalito was a little spit of land with the Bayous and the Gulf surrounding it on three sides.

Inside the city limits, there was a small pocket of poverty — a couple of hundred shotgun shacks that only recently got running water and electricity. For as long as anyone could remember, it was known as Hardship Hollow.

Hardship was near the far western boundary of Sausalito. It stood west of the comparatively tidy Black section, which itself was west of downtown.

Hardship wasn’t an object of scorn. It was simply an embarrassing eyesore. It wasn’t a crime-infested neighborhood — just achingly poor. And super-isolated. That was saying something considering greater Sausalito’s own seclusion.

The Hardship residents — around 900 or so — were united in their fierce devotion to the Pentecostal Church of Christ Risen. While they were rarely able to add to the collection plate, they volunteered labor — carpentry, cooking, cleaning.

Their fellow church members respected their isolationist way of life — Hardship denizens were rarely seen anywhere but the Hollow and Christ Risen.

Of course Hardship was a topic of interest and gossip. Inbreeding, for one. Cousins married cousins. Or would have if anyone over there bothered with city paperwork.

Similarly, quaint notions like the age of consent weren’t even discussed in Hardship. A poverty-stricken, subsistence-driven way of life overrode the norms and mores of city life. A few kids attended Sausalito Elementary for a few years, but most were home-schooled until they were 10 or 11 — old enough to work full-time.

One distinguishing characteristic of Hardship was its attitude toward, and its treatment of, women. They were not only subservient to their husbands, but they were second-class citizens from birth.

Why?

Two reasons. It had been that way forever. For generations. Every girl grew up understanding that she was a disappointment. Every boy grew up with a sense of entitlement, of superiority.

Secondly, was Hardship’s generational devotion to Christ Risen. “For the husband is the head of the wife. Evan as Christ is the head of the church. So as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit in everything to their husbands.” Ephesians 5:22-33.

Hardship — men, women, and children — took that literally. Submit in everything.

Men selected the little girls they would ‘marry.’ Girls didn’t remotely consider arguing. Their job was to have boy babies, raise them, and then make way for the new ‘wife.’

Female submission was linear. A girl obeyed her father. And was submissive to her brothers at the same time. Then she obeyed her husband. Finally, when her sons were old enough and mature enough — usually around 10 years of age — the mothers became obedient to their boys as well.

The practice was baked into the fabric of Hardship. It was a generational ethos reinforced by Christ Risen. Submit in everything. No one, certainly not a mere girl would ever think to question it.

Marie Guidry, and then Eulalie, had a laissez-faire attitude toward Hardship. The people kept to themselves. Home-schooled their children, didn’t drink or do dope. No pill mills, no meth labs. Just a fiercely private and country-proud group of isolationists.

It was a rare occurrence, but every once in a while, one of them broke out of the Hardship poverty-cycle and moved into town.

Cora Ledoux had been one of the outliers.

Monday had been the arrest,

Tuesday, Mosby and Ledoux were released on a $1,000 bail bond. $1,000 each.

Wednesday, all charges were dropped.

Sausalito was puzzled. And curious. Darlene Pellerin had been spotted that Wednesday morning leaving Leslie Patout’s office. The City Attorney who had filed the original charges.

Now, what was that all about? Had Darlene heard that the charges were going to be dropped? Had she gone to see Patout to argue the point?

It was well known that Darlene was herself a frequent target of Mosby’s rants against sin. Understandable that she would want the worst for him. Hmm.

The very Reverend Emanuel Luther Mosby surprised his flock during his first Sunday Sin-Sermon after spending one night in jail. Rather than delivering a Bible-thumping screed against the godless police state of Sausalito, he spoke in measured terms.

“We learn of God’s will through imperfect messengers. Through improbable circumstances.”

He paused, and looked, pew by pew, at everyone. He had.a special skill — each person believed he was talking directly to them. Maureen and her daughter, Cindy, shifted uncomfortably. They had secretly rejoiced when the learned of the arrests. And they weren’t the only ones relieved that Reverend Mosby and Cora might not be around to punish them.

“What have I learned this past week? That God sent me to Sausalito to stamp out the rampant sin from this hellhole of a town. That God wants me to be more diligent than ever. To punish evil-doers with an ever more righteous vengeance.”

That he spoke so calmly, so soothingly, made the sinners in the congregation (everyone) all the more nervous.

“God has re-commanded me to to crush the Devil’s work through every means at my disposal. Sister Ledoux and I will be relentless in purging you of sin. We will be resolute. We will be vigorous.”

He paused to smile at each and every sinner.

“You will feel the vengeful hand of the Almighty.”

He paused again, letting the tension build.

“Women of this congregation. Girls of this congregation. You have started sliding down the slippery slope to Hell. You will learn — each and every one of you — will learn obedience.”

He raised both palms to the Heavens, “Obedience to God. Obedience to Christ Risen. Obedience to me. Obedience to your farther. Obedience to your husband. Obedience to your brothers. Obedience to your sons.”

It was his shortest Sin-Sermon ever. But one that everyone would remember, talk about, think about. Dread. Fresh out of jail with no consequences whatsoever, the very Reverend Emanuel Luther Mosby had free rein to do whatever he wanted.

Cora Ledoux sat ruler-straight in her pew, arms folded, lips pursed, quietly contemplating their next steps.

The Cajun Bayous had some similarities to Hardship. Both places were economically poor. Both were isolated from Sausalito. The Bayous by water; Hardship by custom. Both places were not only insular, but protective. People took care of themselves and each other without the need for city rules and regulations.

But there was one major difference between the two locations. The Cajun Bayous were a matriarchal society — had been for as many generations as anyone could remember.

Men were necessary for obvious reasons, but women ruled the household. Men were tolerated, liked, sometimes even loved, but they were second-class denizens.

Some tweener and teenage boys went through a rebellious stage, but that was short-lived. Mothers, sisters, girlfriends, and wives soon set them right.

In Hardship, it was the other side of the coin. Baby boys were valued, praised, celebrated. Girls? Well, it wasn’t their fault they were born handicapped — that was just the hand some unlucky families were dealt.

Oh, girls had their use — cooking, cleaning, providing sex, having boy babies. But other than the basics, girls were far down the ladder.

When Cora Ledoux was born in little shotgun shack in Hardship, neighbors tried to console her mother, Karen Ledoux, age 14. Cora was her first baby — unlike many of her friends who had had two or three by then.

Karen put on a brave face, but was practically inconsolable. She was a stern, hatchet-faced girl who was never known to smile, let alone laugh. Her husband, 42-year-old, Reginald Ledoux, was a taciturn man prone to a stern Old Testament lifestyle — good was good, evil was evil.

Sunday was the one day when the Hardship residents ventured into town. They walked through the Black neighborhood to reach the Pentecostal Church of Christ Risen. The church policies were a little too lax for them, but it was the strictest in town, so they made do.

For example, Reverend Mosby had brought vaginal discipline to Sausalito when he came from Alabama. Pussy-spanking had been the norm in Hardship for decades.

The men walked to the church in front, trailed by 20 or 30 feet by the women and children. The men sat in pews; the women and children stood in back.

After church, the women returned home to fix Sunday dinner. The men spent half an hour or so in the Christ Risen parking lot catching up with each other. Whose wife was being spanked more than usual? Which wayward daughters needed more discipline? Which young girls would soon be reaching puberty and be ready to be impregnated?

These men were hard-working, Christ-loving, God-fearing pragmatists. Hardship’s survival depended on new generations of workers, farmers, contributors. When each girl hit puberty — and the news was always public knowledge — the men then decided among themselves who would impregnate her.

Sex was necessary for procreation, but was not meant to provide pleasure. Each girl’s father simply sent her off to live with the man selected to breed her. No muss, no fuss, it was just the way it was.

Reginald Ledoux was both disappointed and angry with Karen for delivering a girl. Out of resignation, he waited a month before restarting pussy-spanking and sex. Unfortunately, Karen never was able to have any more children. Thus, the unwanted Cora became an unwanted burden to both of them.

Life was hard. Life wasn’t fair. Looking back, poor Cora Ledoux maybe never had much of a chance at a ‘normal’ life. Whatever passed for normal for a girl born and raised in Hardship.

Both of Cora’s parents — Reginald and Karen — either ignored or abused the girl. Both spanked her. One morning, Karen held the girl down while her husband took her cherry. Girls were second-class citizens in Hardship, but a father having sex with his daughter was almost unheard of.

The homely girl was bitter from her earliest days. When she became obviously pregnant, she split for Sausalito. No one came looking for her.

Her departure was of passing interest — every once in a while a girl left for the city. But Hardship’s attention was eventually drawn to another branch of the Ledoux family. Reginald’s brother, Theodore had married another unlovely woman named Ophelia.

And, like Karen, she gave birth to a girl too. Corrine.

Fortunately for Ophelia, she gave Theodore two strong, healthy baby boys in the two years following Corrine’s birth. Jonathon, then Robinson.

It then seemed that Ophelia had gone barren. Theodore still kept her — she was needed to raise the kids, maintain the house. Then after four years, she startled everyone by becoming pregnant again.

Her friends prayed that it would be another boy — no telling what Theodore would do otherwise. And, Ophelia lucked out again. Her fourth child, a lively baby whom Theodore named Oliver, was an early bloomer. Walking and talking sooner than his siblings.

Oliver was to become the talk of Hardship.

In the Ledoux household, Theodore rarely acknowledged Corrine’s existence. While he pussy-spanked his wife when necessary, he didn’t bother with his only daughter. She was around, Ophelia had to feed her, but the girl hardly registered with him. Eventually — as soon as he could — he’d give her away to be bred.

So, until her younger brothers were old enough to discipline Corrine, it was up to Ophelia. Now it wasn’t unheard of in Hardship for a mother to spank a daughter, but it was fairly unusual. Almost always, the father was the disciplinarian in the house. Until his sons were old enough to take over the necessary chore.

Many wives were secretly relieved when their sons began pussy-spanking them. Almost without exception, they were a little more tentative, a little less severe than the husband.

To Ophelia’s surprise, she found she enjoyed — enjoyed quite a lot — spanking Corrine. Of course she couldn’t admit that to anyone — she didn’t change her sour countenance, didn’t crack a smile no matter how large the thrill she experienced.

Then Ophelia’s second child, her oldest son, Jonathon, said, “That’s enough, Ophelia, I’ll spank the little bitch from now on.”

“Acourse.”

A year later, Robinson, the middle brother took over. Theodore then gave his wife, Ophelia, to Jonathan to discipline. Ophelia was relieved — Jonathon’s touch wasn’t as harsh as her husband’s. Corrine didn’t care much one way or the other. Both of her brothers were more lenient that her mother had been.

But the very next year, the pride of the Ledoux household — Oliver, the youngest child — announced he was taking over the disciplinary chores in the family.

Theodore was both pleased and amused at the youngster’s boldness. Even his older brothers didn’t protest. Oliver was as strong-willed as his father — and that was saying something.

To the distress of both Ophelia and Corrine, Oliver wielded a strong hand. The wails coming from his mother and sister could be heard many houses away. Theodore noticed the severity of the punishment, but didn’t intervene. It neither pleased nor displeased him. Some boys were just born with a sternness in their soul. Besides, Theodore was already looking around for a younger wife.

Since Ophelia had resented her daughter since birth, they weren’t close enough to commiserate with each other. Ophelia’s friends were sympathetic to her plight — my goodness, how red that poor pussy was — but there was nothing they could do. Oliver was already a force of nature, a true leader in Hardship.

Then Corrine hit puberty. Oliver drew his father aside. To ask permission, “I’d like to impregnate the little bitch myself.”

“I’ll pray on it, son.”

Theodore, like most Hardship fathers, had had his daughter sucking off him and her brothers as soon as they could cum. But Oliver wanted to take it one step further.

Mysterious are the ways of the Lord.

Corrine Ledoux, like all little girls in Hardship, had grown up knowing she was not as worthy, not as valuable, as her brothers. It didn’t occur to her to question that reality — second-class citizenship was all she had ever known.

Corrine, also like all of her little friends, was taught how to suck cock by her mother. “Boys have their needs — it’s jess God’s way.”

“Oh.”

“Whenever they want it, give it to ‘em.”

“Oh.”

Like most of her little friends, Corrine didn’t find it the least bit odd — it was just the way the world worked. And, she came to sort of enjoy the act. It gave her, for a few moments anyway, some control over her brothers.

Then one day, apparently God had spoken with Theodore. He gave Oliver permission to ‘mate and procreate’ with Corrine. Oliver’s mother felt a little jolt of relief — the way he had been looking pensively at her as he pussy-spanked her was making her nervous. Better he fuck Corrine than her. Much better.

In fact, Theodore had grown rather bored with Ophelia. He was looking around for a newer model — a much younger girl than his wife to give him more sons. As for Corrine ... well, he just never had paid much attention to her. In effect, he had turned over both of his females to his rising star — Oliver.

One day, when he was still quite young, Oliver discovered Ophelia’s clit. The little bump intrigued him. Then it fascinated him because he could get his mother squirming, blushing, moaning. And not the way she moaned when he spanked her.

Then it dawned on him — she was sexually aroused. Intrigued, he temporarily stopped spanking her and simply played with her pussy. Ophelia was mortified — she wasn’t supposed to get any enjoyment out of her body.

But she was also secretly thrilled at the same time. Theodore had only two uses for her pussy — spanking and sowing his seed. But Oliver...

Now Ophelia knew better than to ask any favors from her youngest child, but finally she couldn’t hold back any longer. In addition to feeling guilty about the first orgasms she had ever experienced, she was terrified that she’s be found out.

One morning after she had fed her family, and everyone else had left for work and chores, Oliver nodded at her. Ophelia blushed, but immediately began undressing. As she lay back on his bed, she whispered, “Oliver?”

He smiled down fondly at the homely woman, “Yes.”

“Would you please not make me cum in front of the others? Please? I’d die if they knew.”

Huh. Now this was interesting. The old bitch was embarrassed. Ashamed. He decided to think it over as he reached down and began his gentle clitoral stimulation. Over the past few weeks, he’d learned the just the right amount of pressure to get the most out of her.

It wasn’t his intention to pleasure her — that was just a byproduct of his discovery. No, what he enjoyed was watching her react in stages. Turning pink, then red. Her breath growing raspy. Erect nipples. Then squirming, moaning, getting wetter and wetter.

When it hit her — whatever it was, he marveled at how her entire body seemed to spasm as she bucked her hips up and down. Interesting.

He never did give her an answer about privacy, but he only did it to her when he had her alone.

For that, Ophelia was most grateful. And, shameful as it was, she found herself becoming needy. She knew she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t keep from arranging to be around Oliver when he was alone. She wouldn’t dare ask for it, but she was now making sure she was available whenever possible.

Of course, Oliver was aware of her motivation. He didn’t care about why she wanted it — she was just a dried-out old hag. But it was still interesting to him.

Then one morning he told his mother, “Bring me Corrine.”

“Acourse.”

From then on, mother and daughter shared the same shameful secret. It amused him that Corrine responded faster and harder than their mother. Neither of the two bitches spoke to each other about what Oliver did to them in private.

Oliver’s reputation, as young as he was, continued to grow in Hardship. The luckiest mothers in town — those with sons and no daughters — began to seek his counsel.

Roberta Benoit was the first to ask Oliver for a favor. She was 42, lived next door, and had four boys. With no daughters to help her service their voracious sexual appetites.

“Oliver, would you loan me Corrine? To suck off my boys? Jess once in a while?”

He gazed at her steadily. Ophelia and Corrine were in the room too. They were equally curious. His eyes raked up and down Roberta’s body. Even as over-the-hill as she was, she had a lush figure.

At her advanced age, and since she could no longer be impregnated, many of her friends were surprised that her husband still kept her around. But as she told Ophelia, “John Raymond tries out new pussy ever’ once in a while. But he ain’t settled on one yet.” She shrugged, “Besides, he knows how much the boys like to spank me.”

“Them boys still keep you naked most of the time?”

Another shrug, “Acourse. An’ for their blowjobs too.”

Standing there, Roberta read Oliver’s eyes, understood what the scrutiny meant. With a half-smile on his face, he arched an eyebrow. Roberta couldn’t look at her friend Ophelia — they both knew what his unvoiced question meant.

Giving the charismatic boy some pussy wasn’t Roberta’s problem. It was keeping it secret from her jealous husband, John Raymond. All in all, he was fairly pleased with Roberta — she had given him four fine boys. And not one bitch to deal with.

Roberta could feel herself blushing as she gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Ophelia caught it though. And was relieved — when Oliver wanted pussy, he took it. Better Roberta than her. Much better. Accepting his knowing fingers was one thing. But...

Oliver just glanced at Corrine. Although she was seven years older than he was, it didn’t occur to her to question his edicts. She just stood up and scurried next door to begin sucking cock.

Ophelia, sensing her youngest was in a good mood, got up her nerve, “Oliver?”

“Yeah.”

“Would you let me start spanking Corrine again? I mean, you’ll still do my pussy, but I miss spanking her? A lot? Please?”

He was in a good mood, “Sure.”

“Thank you, so much. Um, I’ll leave you an’ Roberta to ... um, talk about Corrine’s schedule an’ all.”

Oliver, completely at ease, leaned back against the kitchen counter. Roberta turned a deeper red. Surely he wasn’t planning to do her right there? With John Raymond next door?

Oliver, as composed as anyone she’d ever met, with that same half-smile, let the silence build.

Roberta was off balance. She hadn’t thought it through when she had asked the favor. She followed his eyes as they casually traveled up and down her body. She shifted her feet. Cleared her throat.

“Um, John Raymond is home.”

Oliver just kept smiling.

“I mean it’s hard to have any privacy. Him an’ four boys.”

She cleared her throat again, “I ain’t trying to get out of it.”

“Um, you gonna say anything?”

“I mean if he wasn’t home...”

He wasn’t even bothering to look at her face. Then, a spark of an idea, “Oliver, would you like a preview? Like a sneak preview?”

He tilted his head slightly.

Roberta glanced around nervously. Didn’t see anyone. Didn’t hear anyone. She took a breath and began unbuttoning her sundress before she changed her mind, Bra. Panties. Blushing furiously.

Oliver took in her lush figure. Her full breasts without all that much sag. That dark triangle pointing to puffy pussy lips. He nodded, “Okay,”

She whispered, “Thank you,” and dressed herself a lot faster then she had stripped. “Um, Oliver ... uh, when? An’’ where?”

“You figure it out, Roberta.”

“Oh. Acourse. Maybe my cousin, Minnie, she’s...”

He gave her a friendly wink, “Don’t keep me waiting, now.”

“Oh, I won’t! Don’t worry about that!”

Roberta scurried home, smiling to herself. Her spirits were lifted further at the sight of Corrine sucking on her oldest while the other three waited their turn. Boners throbbing in anticipation.

Because Darlene Pellerin was Darlene Pellerin, she made a bold series of moves without even consulting Kate Broussard. Kate was mainly enjoying the good life — healthy for her age, financially comfortable, and confident that the pussy kingdom she’d built over the past 20 years was in good hands with Darlene.

Darlene had not only heard about the visitor from Tulsa, from the Pentecostal World Council, she’d had Fred Mitchum followed for two days. He met with members of Reverend Mosby’s Pentecostal Church of Christ Risen.

Darlene suspected that some of the abuse rumors she’d heard were true about Mosby and Cora Ledoux. Sausalito was a small town, and Darlene was wired into it.

For her part, she hoped the gossip had some accuracy to it. She was already undermining the institution — hiring as much church-pussy as could be persuaded to join her.

However, that was her business, not some nosy out-of-towner. The last thing she wanted was for an outsider to draw negative attention to Sausalito. Particularly, law enforcement. So, Darlene went to the police station and met with Rémy.

“We may have a problem.”

Oliver Ledoux, even at 14, was a legend in Hardship. He was by far the smartest, most observant one in the community. Good looking too — surprising given the homeliness of his mother. And, as Ophelia and Corrine told their friends, his cock was not only fat, but at least 8-inches. At least.

A few boys in Hardship were sent to Sausalito Elementary for a few years. Most boys were bored, but not Oliver. At age 4, he became a regular visitor to the Sausalito Public Library. And quickly became a favorite of the town librarians.

For years, he read voraciously. Everything. Fiction. Math. Biology. Science. Astronomy. Geography. History. Philosophy. Oliver was the first and only Hardship denizen to become computer-literate.

The digital access expanded his horizons into infinity.

For a couple of months, he became intrigued by the always-available pornography through the library’s desktop computers. Sausalito may have been the only public library in the country with no Internet censorship.

He watched videos, read stories, paid attention. Learned about the female anatomy. Breasts, nipples, vagina, clitoris. Orgasms.

Unlike his father and older brothers — hell, unlike every man and boy he knew in Hardship — Oliver became interested in women as women. Of course they had pussies and mouths. But he became fascinated with the concept of the female persona.

Girls had minds, feelings, emotions. They were complex creatures, far more than mere sexual outlets and bearers of children.

Oliver went back to his beloved scholarly journals. Studied the psychology of human development. Of females and feminism. He became, in his backcountry, crude, teenage way, a connoisseur of human behavior. Including, so far as he was able, women.

But beyond his intelligence and physical appearance, there was just something special about Oliver. He would turn out to be a once-in-a-lifetime transformative leader. He would change Hardship in ways no one who lived there could have imagined.

One day, his father, Theodore, brought home a new bride — Rebecca had just turned 14, and was ripe.

Ordinarily, he would have sent his first wife, Ophelia, to the Barren House. Where Hardship women who could no longer be impregnated lived communally. There was no stigma attached — nature was nature, and the women had provided as many boy babies as they could.

In fact, in spite of being just females, there was some respect in having earned the right to live in the Barren House. And, it was a huge relief for most of the women. For the most part, they got along with each other fairly well. Other than fathers occasionally sending their youngest sons there to learn how to spank pussies, there were no more punishment sessions.

Sure, an occasional young boy could stop by for a granny-blowjob, but these women had been sucking cock practically all their lives. First their fathers, then their brothers, then their sons. When a guy showed up at the Barren House, whoever was handy simply undressed and sucked him off.

However, when Theodore brought Rebecca home, Oliver nodded at Ophelia and told his father, “I’m going to keep this one for a while.”

Theodore just shrugged. He now thought no more of Ophelia than he did of Corrine — Oliver could have his former wife and daughter if he wanted them.

Ophelia had mixed feelings. She had been looking forward to retiring to the Barren House. Yet, Oliver had awakened something in her that she hadn’t known existed.

Of course the second Oliver announced he was keeping her, Ophelia knew that he would be fucking her. It had been almost unheard of when he started fucking his sister. But, Oliver Ledoux was Oliver Ledoux. Neither Ophelia nor Corrine even considered contesting his decision to fuck them.