Chapter 3: Bad Things Sometimes Happen to People We Love

Ramon Ruiz and Daniel Clutterbuck sat on the porch of the bunkhouse smoking and passing a jug of moonshine between them.

The farmhand bunkhouse was located well away from the house and was self-contained with its own kitchen and domestic facilities. William Balfour had moved it to its current location when he married his young pretty wife Margaret Ryan. He didn’t want coarse and licentious farmhands roughhousing and carousing near his bride in case they got any ideas.

William Belfour had gone missing several years ago and was not missed by anyone. He was an angry cantankerous drunk who had walked out on his wife and son leaving them to run a five hundred acre farm on their own. Well that’s what most people thought. At the time there was conjecture that foul play might have been involved but neither the sheriff nor anybody else was interested in following up that rumour.

Peter Belfour did an excellent job of running the farm; far better than his father had. He took care of his mother and his aunt and they had a pleasant comfortable lifestyle for Midwestern farm folk. In 1975 grain prices were peaking and another bumper crop was ready to be harvested so Peter had taken on extra seasonal workers to assist with harvest.

“How old you think that whippersnapper is who runs this farm?” Daniel Clutterbuck inspected the cigarette he had just rolled.

“Can’t be any more than his twenties,” Ramon took the proffered cigarette and put it in his mouth.

“Something strange about this place. That young buck and those two fine women, all alone way out here on the prairie. You’d think those women would be bored to death. He keeps them cooped up in that farmhouse like prize fillies,” Daniel began to roll another cigarette for himself.

“He don’t talk about them and he sure don’t want us talking about them neither. I overheard some of the regular hands say they are his momma and his aunty. Sure didn’t really appreciate the lecture he gave us about staying away from the house and the women,” Ramon lit his cigarette and then took another pull on the liquor bottle.

The barracks was supposed to be dry. Farmhands were forbidden to drink liquor, forbidden from approaching the farmhouse and strictly forbidden from engaging with the women.

Ramon and Daniel were used to such rules and restrictions. They were common on farms where seasonal workers were employed. The farmhands were often drifters, moving from job to job, following the harvests and the roundups and their only credentials was their word.

Which was just as well for Ramon and Daniel as they had both met in prison and were only recently released.

Ramon had broken into a house down in a well to do suburb of Oklahoma City intending to rob the place. When he had found a husband and wife and their eighteen year old daughter asleep in their bedrooms he had tied up the husband and raped the women. When the police came they only reported the burglary and not the rapes because of the shame. Rather than savagely ravishing the women Ramon had taken his time with them, and both women had eventually succumbed to Ramon’s gentle foreplay and coital expertise. The husband had been forced to watch his wife and daughter being willingly defiled right in front of him.

Daniel Clutterbuck had been imprisoned for robbing a liquor store. He had also committed a string burglaries and robberies across the Midwest for which he was yet to be incriminated.

“Yeah that young buck sure has an attitude,” Daniel lit his cigarette, took a drag, and blew on the glowing tip.

“Someone should teach that boy that he needs to respect his elders. No need for him to look down on us,” Ramon agreed with his compadre.

The truth was that Peter had been reluctant to take on the two drifters but bumper crops across the Midwest meant that there was a shortage of seasonal workers so Peter had reluctantly hired them both. He didn’t like their attitude but they worked hard in the fields and that’s all that mattered.

Peter had gone into town that morning in his new olive green Chevrolet pickup; a gift to himself after last year’s bountiful harvest. He had banking and business to attend to and a Co-op meeting to attend which would take up most of the day and the women would join him later that afternoon for an early supper after a well-earned shopping spree.

Peter’s mother Margaret Balfour was only seventeen years his senior at forty two. Meg was long-legged, slim-waisted, and big-breasted. Her black hair was worn in a bob with bangs just above her big blue eyes and she preferred the conservative fashions of the fifties rather than the modern bright-coloured shifts and skirts, patterned tights and low-block heels that were now popular.

His aunt, Millicent Ryan, was three years older than her sister and had run away from home to the city as soon as she could. She’d married an advertising executive and had lived the high life, looking down her nose at her family as if they were country hicks and conveniently forgetting where she came from. Millie, as she preferred to be called, had a similar build to her sister but her hair was dyed blonde. Her dress style was totally different to her sister’s; more modern and very trendy. She liked seventies chic fashions. Millie’s had been a coquette who was serially unfaithful to her husband until he found out about her affair with a younger man and had thrown her out of the house penniless leaving Millie with no one else to turn to but Meg.

Both women wore heavy makeup reflective of their preferred fashion and whilst they were more than capable of dressing in denim jeans, work-shirts and boots to help with the chores or riding stock horses around the farm, when they were in the house they were always dressed to feminine perfection. They both liked to dress that way and Peter insisted on it.

Peter might be younger than them both but Meg’s son had voracious appetites that both women were required to fill.

As soon as Peter had left for town Ramon and Daniel had settled on the porch of the bunkhouse and pulled out their bottle. When the acting foreman had bristled Ramon had flashed his knife and the foreman had backed off and taken the other workers with him out into the fields.

Ramon and Daniel knew that they would be fired as soon as Peter returned and the foreman ratted them out. They didn’t care. There were plenty of other farms that would be willing to take them on because labour was scarce.

“How much you think we got comin’?” Ramon studied the tip of his cigarette.

“Two week’s wages. We aint getting’ a bonus that’s for sure,” Daniel sniggered.

“I reckon we can at least quadruple that with what we find in that farmhouse,” Ramon postulated.

“The women are still in there. I can see their car,” Daniel pointed at the farmhouse with his cigarette.

“They get on the phone to the sheriff before we clear the county we gonna get caught for sure,” Daniel added.

“Then best we make sure they don’t,” Ramon eased himself out of chair and flicked his cigarette into the dust.

“What about that Mexican maid? I seen her around the yard sometimes,” Daniel commented.

“I ain’t fuckin’ no chola border-cunt. If I want that I can always fuck my sister,” Ramon snickered.

“You comin’?” he smiled down at his partner.

“Yeah ... I’m comin’” Daniel grunted as he pushed himself out of the rickety chair.

The women were nearly ready to leave. Rosa the nanny was upstairs with the babies. She had agreed to work overtime so the women could have dinner in town with Pete. It was usually a strictly enforced rule that Rosa was to be gone from the house by 5pm so that Peter could take his just rewards when he came home at six.

Peter would fuck either Meg or Millie in the kitchen-diner before dinner depending on whose turn it was. Peter would service the other woman that night in his bed whilst the other woman slept in the babies room. They had come to this arrangement soon after the babies were born. Peter was a proud father who loved his children but waiting the mandated six weeks before he could fuck his women had tested him.

Meg Balfour was wearing a navy-blue, knee-length pencil-skirt, a white fitted satin blouse, black four-inch high heels and seamed flesh-toned stockings. She would put on the matching jacket when they got to town. Underneath she was wearing a black satin and lace garter belt to hold up her stockings and matching full-cut panties and bra. Her lipstick was bright-red, heavy black mascara and eyeliner and her purple and mauve eyeshadow which emphasised her bright blue eyes.

Millie Ryan was wearing a long-sleeve teal shift micro-mini dress with round neck, sheer taupe pantyhose and wedge-heeled Mary-Jane’s with ankle straps. Her makeup consisted of flicked upper eyeliner, matte green eyeshadow, false eyelashes with heavy mascara, coral-blushed cheeks, and pink lipstick. Her blonde hair was piled in a beehive and a pillbox hat to match her shift sat on the breakfast bar next to her coat.

“I’ll go check on the kids while you start the car. Please take my jacket and purse and put them on the back seat,” Meg said to Millie.

Although Millie was the older of the two, it was Meg’s farm, inherited when her husband was declared deceased in absentia, and she was the lady of the house.

Millie had no problems with this arrangement because Peter treated the women equally and never showed favouritism. They compared notes on his love making techniques and were pleased to discover that Peter went to the same lengths with both women to ensure they were satisfied.

“The children are sleeping Señora Balfour,” Rosa greeted Meg at the door to the nursery which had been Peter’s room when he was a boy.

Peter had converted the room into a nursery, putting in a skylight window to brighten the room, painting it a bright yellow and building the cribs and cots himself. There was a double bed set against the wall to be used by whoever’s duty it was to care for the children overnight. Peter was not to be disturbed. He worked long hard hours and needed his rest.

It had caused quite the scandal when both women became pregnant. Millie had blamed her pregnancy on a visit from her estranged husband who had taken his conjugal rights because their divorce was not yet finalised. Meg refused to name the father of her son but it was widely speculated that William Balfour’s brother had knocked her up. Meg did nothing to dispel the rumour that Peter’s uncle was the father of her child. Reggie Balfour lived in Houston and had only ever visited the farm once, looking for his missing brother. He had left after staying only two days, uncomfortable with what he had found, his menacing nephew ensuring that he did not feel welcome.

Rosa thought it suspicious. If the rumours were true about who had fathered the children, why had neither of the men in question ever visited the farm to see their children? She also wondered why the second bedroom was seldom used. Peter used the master bedroom and Rosa often found makeup on the pillows and sheets and sometimes nylons and panties tangled in the semen-stained sheets.

She was also very suspicious of the way Peter treated the babies. He treated the children more like his son and his daughter than his brother and his cousin. But if her suspicions were true then Peter was father of his own brother. Whenever the thought crossed her mind she invoked the sign of the cross; it was unthinkable!

Rosa was well paid. In fact she was paid more than double the going rate for a nanny-housekeeper. At first Peter had refused the pleas from his women to hire a nanny to help with the babies and the housework but when they told him that they wouldn’t be able to keep themselves looking pretty for him and would be too tired to satiate his desires he soon relented. Rosa knew that her employment was conditional on her absolute silence and discretion and she was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“My precious boy,” Meg whispered and gently kissed the forehead of her sleeping son.

Baby Paul was already starting to look like Peter.

“My pretty niece,” she softly kissed baby Jessica on the cheek.

“We should be home by eight o’clock at the latest,” Meg whispered to Rosa as she softly closed the door.

She was carrying her high heels so that they wouldn’t click-clack on the wooden floors and wake the babies.

“I will keep them safe until you return señora. Enjoy your shopping and your evening. You and Señora Ryan have earned it if I may be so bold as to say so,” Rosa smiled at Meg.

Meg smiled back and nodded. The women seldom went into town alone and when they did it was always together. Peter, like his father before him, did not like his women straying far.

Meg tiptoed down the stairs on stockinged feet and stopped at the bottom to put on her high heels. She hung onto the newel post for support and was too busy with the task to notice that Millie had not gone outside to start her Chevrolet Impala. The flashy car with its burgundy body and white roof, twin headlights and chrome trim and wheels was Millie’s pride and joy. Instead Millie was standing in the doorway being held by her arms by two ruffians.

When Meg looked up her heart flew into her mouth and she bolted for the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. Her heart fell when she put the phone to her ear and heard only silence.

“I don’t think you have any service Missus,” Daniel Clutterbuck held up the knife he had used to cut the telephone line.

Ramon Ruiz reached behind him and threw the bolt on the front door. Meg knew instantly that she was trapped. She would never run away and leave the children anyway under any circumstances.

She looked at the two roughnecks dressed in their dirty blue-jeans, faded work shirts and scuffed boots. Both men were tanned by hours working the fields, they were lean and muscled. One was short, dark-skinned, with greasy black hair, and brown almond-shaped brown eyes. The other was tall, with sun-bleached blonde hair and watery blue eyes. Both men exuded danger.

“Both of you get over against the wall,” Daniel pushed Millie towards her sister.

Meg glanced up at the shotgun hanging up on the wall-mount and took a tentative step forward.

“If I get to it first I’ll stick that thing up your cunt and pull the trigger,” Daniel hissed.

Meg knew that there was no way she would be able to get to the gun before the ruffian. She backed against the wall and hugged Millie close.

“Take whatever you want. I’ll open the safe and give you the cash,” Meg whimpered.

“Oh we are going to sister but first we’re going to have some fun,” Ramon chuckled, sauntering over and taking down the shotgun from the rack.

He inspected the weapon and broke it open and checked to see that it was loaded.

“What do you say Daniel?” Ramon looked questioningly at his partner.

“I think that’s great idea Ramon,” Daniel leered at the two women.

Both Meg and Millie knew what was coming; both men were tenting the crotches of their jeans.

“We have children!” Meg gasped.

As if that would make any difference to these two desperados.

“We know. We’ve seen your maid hanging the diapers on the line,” Ramon hissed.

“Oh my god, Rosa!” Millie gasped and Meg gave her a hurtful look for betraying their housemaid.

“We know about your little brown chicka. I take it she’s up there,” Ramon pointed the shotgun at the stairs.

The women remained silent.

“Don’t hurt our babies!” Meg cried out as Ramon began to ascend the stairs.

Daniel closed in on the women and put his finger to his lips.

When Ramon got to the top of the stairs the women heard Ramon and Rosa squabbling in Spanish. The house suddenly went deathly quiet and they heard the lock on the nursery door turn over. Ramon came back down the stairs holding the shotgun in one hand and a key in the other.

“Now we won’t be disturbed and if you women behave yourselves your children will be safe. The little chicka is taking good care of them,” Ramon put the key to the nursery door on the breakfast bar.

He broke open the shotgun and extracted the shells and put them in his pocket and put the shotgun down next to the key. He pulled a knife from his pocket and held it up in front of the women’s faces.

“You are both very pretty and if you both behave yourselves you will stay that way. Daniel and I will enjoy a little visit with you and then we will be on our way,” Ramon closed the knife and put it back in his pocket.

“What do you mean by a little visit?” Millie snapped.

Meg shook her head in annoyance and exasperation. It was obvious what they meant.

Ramon and Daniel just leered at the women.

Daniel put away his knife and settled into an armchair while Ramon took a seat on the couch.

“Which one do you want brother?” Ramon asked.

Both women felt faint.

“I kinda like the Betty Page looking girl,” Daniel pointed at Meg.

“That’s good cause I want the other bitch. I like mine a little older,” Ramon ran his eyes over Millie’s body.

Millie found it incredible that she actually felt a little jealous that her sister had been picked first and resented the jibe about her being older.

“Get over here ladies. You do right by us and your babies will remain sleeping soundly,” Ramon crooked a finger at the two women.

“What do we do?” Millie whispered.

“Whatever they want. What else are we going to do?” Meg sighed.

Both women cautiously approached the men. Meg stood defiantly in front of Daniel with her hands on her hips, refusing to look at him and Millie stood before Ramon unable to look away from the huge bulge in the crotch of his jeans.

“Just do what they want Millie. We give them whatever they need and then we never speak of this day again,” Meg turned to Millie, her blue eyes full of anger and despair.

Millie nodded balefully.

Daniel sat with his legs were open wide. He reached out and pulled Meg closer so that her knees were pressed against the edge of the chair. His hands firmly grasped her buttocks and she shivered with revulsion. She began to shake when he softly traced the backseams of her stockings with his fingers. She could smell the muskiness of him. It was similar to the smell Peter had on his body when he came home from working in the fields and took her bent over the dining room table.

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine that it was Peter whose fingers were circling the dark welts of her stockings under her skirt, whose knuckles were grazing her satin panty crotch.

Ramon pulled Millie down into his lap and pulled her face to his. She resisted when he tried to kiss her.

“The babies,” Ramon whispered softly in her ear and she capitulated.

This time when Ramon pressed his lips to hers she didn’t fight; she opened her lips when he insistently pressed his tongue against her mouth. She could feel his manhood pressing on her buttocks. Her micro-miniskirt had ridden up to the top of her thighs and her white nylon panties rustled against his coarse denim.

She twisted a little in his lap and Ramon twisted her back so that his long thick snake nested in the crease of her buttocks. She felt it pulsing through his jeans.

“You got my cock throbbin’ like a sock full a grasshoppers honey,” Ramon whispered in her ear.

“Look at your sister,” Ramon turned Millie’s head so that she was facing her sister.

Daniel had made Meg hold up her skirt and was stroking her stocking-sheathed legs, running his callused fingers up and down them. Meg was shaking and her eyes were screwed shut. She was silently mouthing something that Millie couldn’t hear.

The only way Meg could deal with the situation was to pretend that it was Peter’s hands stroking her legs, circling the dark bands of her stockings, eliciting the warm soft sensuous tingles of pleasure from her thighs. It could not be the callous farmhand.

Daniel slid a finger along the seam of Meg’s panties, pushing the satiny material into the folds of her vulva. He crooked his finger and began to softly circle her sex. Meg’s knees began to buckle and her lips parted as she gasped.

“See ... she likes it,” Ramon whispered into Millie’s ear.

Millie had been with many men. When her husband was working his way up the corporate ladder she had been propositioned by CEOs and corporate fat-cats who had made it clear that her husband’s advancement was dependent on her opening her legs for them. Millie refused to be a meek plaything passed around from man to man and had become a predator, seducing men who had the status and ranking to elevate her husband’s career. Her lily-livered weakling of a husband had given his tacit approval; never broaching the subject until Mille had taken a younger man into her bed for own pleasure.

Millie’s husband had used her infidelity with a common pool-boy as an excuse to file for divorce and replaced her with his young, ravishingly beautiful secretary. It was such a cliché.

She knew that Meg had been with only two men: her husband and her son. Seeing her sister using whatever means and method she was employing to tolerate and endure what the sandy-haired man was doing to her set Millie’s mind at ease. Millie was worried that her sister would freak out and then the men would become violent. Meg seemed to be enduring it. In fact from the little yelps and sharp hisses, she seemed to be enjoying it.

Ramon slid his hands along Millie’s pantyhosed thighs, stroking them all the way from her knees to the little crease where her leg joined her torso. When he got there we would circle his fingers on her flimsy white nylon panties and then start all over again. Millie put her hand over his and at first Ramon thought she was trying to stop him but instead she guided his hand to front of her panties and placed it on her cunt.

Ramon smiled and Millie snuggled in his lap and kissed him deeply. His breath was rancid with liquor and cigarettes, his body musty with sweat and grime and his cock felt like a throbbing iron bar pressed into her ass. She was becoming wet. If she was going to be ravaged she would rather it be by some dark-skinned ruffian than some milksop corporate stooge.

Daniel found Meg’s clitoris and rubbed her satin panties against the sensitive nub. His face was pressed against her thighs, her stocking rasping on his stubble. He could smell her perfume and underneath that he could smell her sex. Her panties were damp.

Meg still had her eyes closed and imagined that it was Peter stroking her most intimate parts. That it was her son who was evoking the delightful slivers of pleasure that radiated from her clitoris. That it was Peter’s face pressed to her thighs, kissing and licking her stockings.

Daniel eased Meg back a step so he could stand. His fingers never left her crotch and Meg staggered back on her heels but Daniel caught her and held her close with his arm around her waist whilst his other hand stroked her tingling nubbin. He kissed her and Meg didn’t resist. She was almost limp in his arms. He took a second to unbutton and push down his jeans so he could free his erect cock. He pressed it between Meg’s thighs and she instinctively clamped her thighs shut around it.

Her silky sheer nylons felt magnificent against his tender flesh and Daniel left little silver snails-trails of pre-ejaculate on her stockings. He drove his tongue into Meg’s mouth and she didn’t resist. He took her hand and put it on his organ and she didn’t resist. He snaked a finger inside her panties and circled her clitty and she didn’t resist.

Ramon had Millie lying on the couch beneath him. He had made her unbutton her dress and he was suckling her nipples and lapping her pillowy breasts while Millie ran her fingers though his thick oily hair. His cock was pressed against her flimsy nylon panties which she wore over her pantyhose. The slippery panties slid over the gusset of her pantyhose as he thrust against her, evoking delicious waves of delight for them both.

Millie’s panties and her pantyhose crotch were sodden with her juices and she was gasping and moaning as she lay underneath the coarse farmhand.

Meg could hear her sister moaning and she knew that it was pleasure, not pain her sister was feeling. Meg tried to imagine that it was Peter ravaging her sister not some Mexican bandit but then if that were so who was raping her?

Meg suddenly opened her eyes and the reality of the situation crashed into her. It was not her son who was making her feel like a slattern it was lowly ranch-hand whose caresses and kisses were inciting feelings of lust. She was being ravaged, despoiled, violated ... raped. And she was enjoying it.

Meg pushed down the guilt and justified her actions to herself. If she gave this man everything he wanted he and his friend would leave her and her sister and their beloved children unharmed. It was time to make a deal with the devil.

Meg stopped being a rag doll and put one arm around the sandy-haired young man and returned his kisses, thrusting her tongue into his mouth. She felt the heft of his penis in her fingers and she began to stroke it, squeezing out little globules of precum whish she used to lubricate his shaft and bulbous head of his penis.

“Fuck me,” she whispered wantonly.

Millie couldn’t help but smile when she heard her sister ask her rapist to fuck her.

“Your sister wants it Cara Mia,” Ramon looked up from between Millie’s breasts.

“Me too,” Millie entangled her fingers in Ramon’s oily hair and dragged his face to hers so she could kiss him.

She helped him out of his clothes so that he was naked and then pulled him close when he reached for her. He lay her back down on the couch and she opened her arms and her legs for him.

Ramon nestled his cock in the crotch of Millie’s panties and then eased aside the flimsy material and pressed it into the gusset of her pantyhose. His cock pressed the diaphanous nylon against her clitoris and Millie whimpered and held him there with her legs.

He pushed harder until his cock burst through the flimsy nylon and burrowed in the folds of Millie’s cunt. She raked her painted nails along his back as he slid his long thick member inside her cuntal sheath.

Daniel was naked too. He was holding Meg close to him, his cock between her legs, rubbing it on her sheer stocking-tops. Meg was whimpering. Daniel didn’t know if it was lust or shame and he didn’t care. He turned Meg around pushed her into the chair. She fell into it holding onto the back for support.

As she did so Daniel moved in behind her, pulled her panties aside and slammed his cock into her cooch.

She was wet!

The fucking bitch was wet!

And she began to push back against him to meet his thrusts as he held her by her thighs and viciously fucked her. Meg was relieved that the ruffian was using her brutally because if he was gentle with her she wouldn’t be able to justify the outright pleasure she was feeling as the man thrust his hard cock in and out of her dripping maw. She sobbed with the indignity of it but also with mounting pleasure that the man was eliciting from her tight, slick cunt that seemed to cling to his thick, veiny phallus as he drove it and out of her.

Meg looked guiltily over to her sister. What she saw was a relief. She was not alone in succumbing the rapists ministrations. Millie was more that cooperating.

Millie was lying on the couch with dark-skinned man between her legs. He was brutally fucking her, driving his cock into her making thwok, thwok, thwok, sounds as his flesh pounded into hers. Millie had her pantyhosed legs wrapped around the man and was drumming her heels on his back to encourage him. She was kissing him passionately. Her beehive hairstyle had become loose and her blonde hair hung around her heavily made-up face.

Meg gasped as she felt Daniel’s hard cock press all the way inside her and he pulled back her hard against him. She pressed her buttocks into him and wriggled them as she felt him deposit his load deep in her vagina. Her orgasm erupted and she collapsed on the chair as it raced through her body. Daniel held her close as his cock shuddered inside her, he kissed her neck, tasting her perfume, feeling the women shudder with intensity of her orgasm. He smiled.

Millie’s climax had been building slowly and it erupted just as Ramon planted his seen inside her. He rammed his cock viciously in and out of her tight cunt, kissed her hard and passionately. Millie rubbed her nylon-clad legs on his flesh and moaned like a whore as she came. She could feel Ramon’s cock filling her tight sheath, quivering and swelling as his hot load emptied inside her.

Both women felt disgusted with themselves when the men had finally finished using their bodies. They clung to each other, quietly sobbing while the men took their time getting dressed.

“Stop that bullshit! You were both moaning like whores only seconds ago,” Ramon swatted Millie on the ass.