Chapter 10: Sheila

Warning: This chapter contains torture, animal cruelty, as well as beastiality. Some would say it is fairly sadistic. If you are offended by these please skip this chapter.

With just Sheila in the back of the car, I could drive rather rapidly to the southern Nevada border. I did, though, make sure to not go much over sixty, as police pulling me over for speeding would be a problem. (Yeah, in the seventies and eighties, speed limits were fifty-five.) I headed there to meet up with Marco Polo, as he liked to be called. He was a bit of a lowlife who traveled around, providing entertainment. Marco’s kind of entertainment was not for everyone; in fact, it was attended by mainly lowlifes and deviants. He catered to them. They were both the ultra-rich and the working class. He always said, “Money spends. It doesn’t matter if it came from a rich dick or a poor slob.” I can tell you, he preferred the masses in the middle of those two extremes.

I had done business with him on many occasions. He wasn’t a close friend so much as a friendly acquaintance. He provided a service I found invaluable at times. Not all jobs could be completed with a gun. Those jobs usually found me finding and meeting up with Marco. He wasn’t always an easy guy to find. But I had his location for the weekend, and we could help each other out.

He had moved his traveling show to an abandoned warehouse a stone’s throw inside the Nevada state line. I arrived at dusk, and the light made the building look more dilapidated than it actually was. There were a couple hundred cars parked around the building, some in the weed-infested parking lot full of cracks and potholes. The rest were in the dirt that surrounded it. The cars ranged from brand-new Ferraris to old Pintos with bad paint jobs. My car blended right in. I used the section reserved for the regulars that followed Marco around.

Parked, I opened the back. Sheila, having warmed up under the tarp on the drive to the warehouse, was less cooperative than she was when I put her in the back of the car. She looked up and saw the building. “Where the fuck are we?”

“End of the line,” I answered. With the leash secured to the collar, I undid the strap that had gone from the collar to the anchor in the back of the car. I waved to her, “Come on time to get out.”

“Fuck you, I ain’t getting out of this car still naked and only able to crawl like a dog. Actually, I think I scream until a cop comes, then I’ll get out,” she said as she resisted my efforts to coax her out of the car.

I told her in no uncertain terms, “You will get out, and you won’t have clothes on.”

“Wrong asshole. I’m staying here until I see someone else. And then you are fucked,” she said, as insubordinate as ever, thinking a passerby would help her. I almost laughed at her assumption. Instead, I yanked on the lead. The prongs of the spiked collar bore into her skin, causing her to shrill, “Shit that fucking hurts.”

I put the boards she had used getting in the car back down to the pavement. “I don’t give a shit if it hurts. I told you what to do. Now do it, or I’ll pull harder.” I politely told her in as stern a voice as I could muster.

“Fine. Take these off.” She showed me the straps keeping her on all fours. “Then I’ll get out. And the first time I see someone, I’m going to have them get me a cop.”

“No, you’ll get out the way you are. And before you say another word, pissing me off to the nth degree. Look around.” I gave her a second to see her surroundings. “Does this look like a place where people will go out of their way to help you?” I informed her.

“Someone will help me,” she insisted. “I’m naked, good-looking, and have a hot body, so I’ll attract someone’s attention.”

“You obviously have not looked at yourself lately,” I said straight-faced, pointing at the warehouse. “Even then, there are a lot of women in there that, on your best day, you don’t hold a candle to. So get out, or I’ll pull on this collar and let the chips fall where they may. But I can tell you the odds of one of these spikes not hitting a vital artery or vein are pretty slim.”

Sheila stared at me and around at the surroundings. Less confident, she looked at the ground, saying, “You wouldn’t do that with this many people around.”

It was then, I had to laugh. I had been holding it in, but she had continued to misread her situation to the point where I found it funny. Between laughs, I stated, “Lady, and I use that term loosely, the people here would think nothing of a person bleeding from the neck and slowly dying. In fact, most of these sick fucks would probably enjoy the show.”

She looked around at the state of the run-down warehouse. I did the same. It was then, I think, that Sheila saw what I did. At the far end of the building, in an entry alcove, I saw six pairs of bare calves held up in stirrups. I wasn’t surprised at the sight, but Sheila said, “What the fuck?”

“Come with me. You’ll find this educational,” I said, pulling on her new leash. On all fours, she crawled down the ramp, her tits swaying under her. The bombs did look kind of sexy, as did her ass as they wobbled and shook going down the ramp. Her body was still covered in a layer of dirt, with it smeared over her nipples and the bottom of her pussy lips. The less dirty full folds and their protected thin ones stayed centered beneath her rounded, dirt-covered globes. She carefully crawled off the ramp and onto the asphalt, putting her knees down, deliberately avoiding rocks and pebbles.

She had crawled a hundred feet, not really looking up, concentrating on where her next hand and knee placements would be when we turned into the alcove. She looked up. “What the hell?” She saw the six naked women and girls on makeshift obstetrician tables and two naked guys bent over vaulting horses, their legs spread. Seeing the six females up close with cum leaking out, four of the six women and all of the men encouraged Sheila to sit on her hunches quietly. She must have decided to bide her time and see when would be the best time to make a scene.

Despite their position, none of the women were complaining. They seemed fine with the cum oozing out of them. The smooth shaved cunt of the younger brunette and the full cunt lips with curly matted blonde pubes that matched the woman’s blonde head had spunk visibly running over their assholes. Along with the cream coming from their used pussies, they had widened assholes, making it hard to determine from which hole most of it came. Two others, also, had cum running out of their pussies and going over their still-watertight, puckered rosebuds. The two guys also had opaque slime running out of their widened holes. Their dicks also had a wet look to them from either spit or pussy juice; I couldn’t tell which. Only the redhead who had shaved her pubes into the shape of a heart and the raven beauty with her landing strip had no signs of having had sex.

The first brunette, Megan, was a junkie. Marco had mostly cleaned her up. He told me he gave her a taste twice a week. And it wasn’t the cheap stuff she got. It was pure, and he made sure she didn’t overdose and got the maximum high from the injection. She looked much less pale than when I dropped her off.

She had seen a CIA agent sell a kilo of heroin, her drug of choice. When she was arrested for selling, she started talking about seeing the sale. I got the call to make the talking stop. So I did, just not the way my employer expected. She seemed like a woman who had made a lot of bad decisions over the years. But I could tell, despite her junkie appearance, she had the capacity to be good-looking. And for the most part, Megan did look good with cum running out of her cunt and asshole. You could tell she was a user, but she no longer had the look of someone hell-bent on killing themselves with drugs.

I also recognized the blonde and the woman with the black hair. I had fucked both of them in the past but never did get their names. I had fucked them the other times I had come to see Marco. I had been the first one to screw each of them when they got on the entry line. Both had been good active fucks while in the stirrups and were tight despite having likely been fucked hundreds of times. I did like Marco’s version of security.

Marco’s thinking was way outside the box when it came to verifying who were police and who weren’t. Marco had told me if the visitor wouldn’t fuck one of his women or men, cumming in their cunt, ass, or mouth, at the entrance, then they were likely a cop. He would also accept his women or men getting or giving cunnilingus or blowjobs. The activities were added to the cover charge of the entertainment. And with Las Vegas and Nevada having loose prostitution laws, this was not a hard thing to accomplish. While I enjoyed the entry test and did it every time I went to see Marco, I wasn’t required to do it. Ever since I placed Megan with him, I had been exempt. My delivering the redhead at the end of the line just sealed my position with him.

The redhead at the entrance I saw was Penelope Astor Winston Rothschild. Penelope was at the door, spread out naked, with her pussy hanging off the edge of the table. The fire-red hair above her slit was the same as I remembered from the time I dropped her off with Marco and the multiple times I had screwed her since. Even when she wasn’t at the front door.

She had been Ted Kennedy’s girlfriend and was threatening to go public with their relationship and his corruption if he didn’t divorce his wife immediately. She was from money and thought that meant she got what she wanted. Ted had already drowned one girlfriend and didn’t think he could do that to a second one and get away with it. And her being so wealthy and connected politically meant her death had to, without a doubt, look like a random mugging or suicide in a park. (Something Hillary would use years later.)

So he and his family hired me to make her go away. A couple of her own family members were in on the request. She had been a prima donna and still was a deviant nymphomaniac. The family members figured getting rid of her meant more inheritance for them. When I showed her who all wanted her gone, she left everything without any argument. She stayed with Marco when I explained, if she didn’t, someone else who was not as understanding would visit her.

When she saw me, she said, “Hey Doe, come on down here and give it to your sweet Pea. You’ll be the best fuck I’ll have all night. Short of Marco, of course.” Only Marco knew her real name; to everyone else, she was Pea, and to everyone, I was John Doe.

Walking down to her, leaving Sheila to crawl after me, I joked with Pea, “You’re still screwing Marco? I thought you had better taste.”

“We gingers have to stick together,” she said. “Now get those pants down and screw me like you did before leaving me with him.”

“What do I do with this bitch?” I asked, holding up the leash.

Pea said, “Hand her off to Sam there. He’ll hold her.” Sam waved while still bent over the old vaulting horse.

Handing her leash off to him, I said, “Hold on tight. She might try and crawl away.” I moved over between Penelope’s spread, up-held legs. I ran my hands down the insides of both of her thighs to her cunt. Getting to her smooth, full lips and the thin ones hanging out between them, I parted them. I bent down to smell her familiar, earthy scent. I liked that about her, and I spread her lips further apart, breathing her in before putting my tongue to the rim of her opening. I swiped the moist, velvety flesh between the lips, letting them close back on either side of my organ.

Pea moaned, “Fuck Doe, I love it when you do that. Mmm, do it again.”

Looking up her soon-to-be rounded belly and tits that would grow at least three cup sizes. “And I love doing it. You always tasted so good.” I did the same again, this time all the way over her clit flicking it as I left her pussy. Standing back up, my pants at my knees, I asked, “I can keep that up or fuck you. But I can’t tie up one of Marco’s door girls too long. Marco wouldn’t forgive me for that.”

“Mmm ... I guess if I have to choose, I’d say having the feeling of your dick filling me with your cum is preferable,” she stated. “But will you suck my tits at the same time? Won’t you?”

“Don’t I always?” I assured her, running my tongue for the third time between her folds. I circled her clitoris multiple times before licking up through her fire-red pussyhair. She wiggled in her stirrups as my lips tickled her midriff. She arched her back when my lips were on her breast, twisting and getting her nipple between my lips.

Penelope and I had screwed multiple times during the days we traveled to give her over to Marco. I slid my dick slowly into her wet pussy. Penelope moaned at her cunt’s gradual stretching from my engorged dick sinking into her until my balls on her ass would let me go no further. I recognized and agreed with her sentiment as she groaned, “God, I love the hell out of screwing you.” All I could do was wink up at her in agreement, with my mouth full of her tit. “Shit, I wish I could have three of you at once,” she huffed while I stroked in and out of her cunt. I knew what she said to me was true. I had found out Penelope was pretty much a nymphomaniac in the truest sense of the word. While I took her at her word, she loved my dick in her cunt. I also knew she could never get enough dick or pussy in her hands, ass, mouth, or cunt for her liking. So when I left her hole, she would love the feeling of the next guy’s cock buried in her. I had seen her take on five guys at once and not leave one unsatisfied or feeling inferior to the other guys she had in her other orifices or hands. The fact that Penelope was a sex fiend and enjoyed getting laid on a regular basis meant she was perfect as one of the girls at the door.

Knowing that she wasn’t there so Marco would give her a fix like he did with some of the other women was nice. Marco controlled many of the women and girls at the door through drugs. He was able to maintain a stable of enough females that at one of his events, he could swap the girl at the door after being used two or three times for validation purposes. I had to give Marco credit; he didn’t beat any of the women or give them drugs for the first or second time in their lives. They had to already be users before he would give them. Plus, it was an ingenious way of keeping the police out of his events, which were highly illegal. He put on dog and cockfights and sex shows involving girls and various animals he had obtained. Again, he didn’t force the women into the shows most of the time. Usually, he bribed the women with drugs or alcohol.

I felt Pea’s cunt start spasmodically contracting around my cock. The warm velveteen passage squeezing my turgid rod and caressing my bulbous purple head was heavenly. She was panting, and her breathing was raspy and heavy as she humped at me while I drove harder into her. The sound of our copulation was joined by a guy and girl that had come to the door not long after I had started screwing the redhead. The couple were double-teaming the brunette, whom I didn’t recognize. He had his Armani pants and boxers at his ankles while his girlfriend or wife had her Herve Leger dress pulled up over her hips, straddling the brunette’s face, so she could suck on the woman’s large clit sticking out about half an inch past her full, thick folds. Penelope whined like her extended climax was straining her, and she cried out, “God Doe. I’m cumming. God, yes, give it to me ... Augh.”

Her straining abdomen and arched back matched her climactic wail and pussy clamping down on my cock. I powered through her shrunken vagina, forcing it wide for my dick as I pumped in and out of her. The extra tightness and the gush of hot orgasmic fluid made the crushed velvet sheath burnish my rod all the more. It electrified every bit of my brain. The wash of pleasure went to my balls and started my gush of orgasmic fluid. I returned the cry with one of my own, “Oh shit, I am cumming.” My cock continued slipping in and out of the well-used but hot hole of Penelope, delivering my seed into her belly, having passed the test I didn’t have to take. Over and over, the jets shot out of me, filling the compressed repository.

Feeling my hot spunk coat her insides, she responded, “Oh, fuck yeah. Pump me full. Oh, so good...” Her voice trailed off into a guttural growl while I drained my balls into her. Both of us sated for the time being, I pulled my shrinking, wet dick from her. Our combined cum came oozing out of her enlarged hole. I flicked her clit once as I reached down, pulling up my jeans, letting the cum ooze out below where I licked.

Pants back in place, I took the leash back from Sam. Sheila looked up at me in disbelief. She had no choice but to stay on all fours, waiting for me to finish screwing Penelope. I guess, finally realizing this wasn’t like any place she’d ever been, she asked. “What the fuck? What is this place?” I just looked down at Sheila and pulled on the leash, getting her moving. Even though the yank wasn’t very hard, her collar’s spikes had tiny drops of blood ringing her neck. She immediately started crawling at my feet. She had started out obviously but was catching on. This was not your mother’s type of entertainment.

Having deposited my unneeded admission, I went in with Sheila behind me. I saw probably 200 people gathered around the caged pen. I imagine all Sheila saw were the legs of those around it. The circular pen had a dirt floor, and in the middle of the ring still had remnants of fur and feathers, plus black areas that were residual blood from some form of animal or another. I would hesitate to guess.

The crowd that gathered was like the cars in the parking lot. It was very diverse. There was a mixture of all types, from women in fine sequin-type dresses as well as the plumber or construction worker in his jeans and steel toe boots coming in to see the show. Marco was a true capitalist. If you had the cover charge and the connections to be invited, he would let you in. Assuming, of course, that you passed the entry test. Additionally, the only kind of disagreement or violence allowed was in the ring. There were large men with holsters visible on their hips to ensure it. So when the young black man had two mostly naked Vietnamese women in leather collars, no one gave it a second look. Still on all fours, naked in the crowd, with the spiked collar around her neck and the leash attached to it in my hand. No one gave Sheila a second look, either.