Not thirty feet from the deserted highway the young girl kneels submissively in the dry scrubland, regretting for ever and a day that she had failed to heed her momma’s advice – “Never accept a lift from strangers honey – but never!

Just a few yards distant, a prairie dog, perhaps disturbed in its contemplations, eyes the threesome to the left of its burrow and having then no interest in proceedings, darts back into the safety of its tunneled conclave.

There is but a light breeze in evidence, whose gentility offers the girl not the least assistance. No cries will be borne on the wind this night. The looming darkness befriends only the girl’s captors, leading one to assume that Nature even has turned its back on the three-act tragedy about to be played out in its midst.

The older man eyeing his prey, circles her as if assessing his options. The youth, slim and dressed also in tattered jeans and checkered shirt, stands across from the girl, near a patch of tumbleweed, his eyes quite obviously taking in the gentle convexity of her young breasts and the curves of her rear-end, subtly delineated as they are in the fading light. He is able to detect the outline of the girl’s underwear even, as she kneels there shivering, both hands extended towards the older man as if in supplication.

He has often watched through the keyhole of the master bedroom at home as his father, having dragged his younger sister across his knee, paddles her backside unmercifully, pausing simply to tug her dress up and her panties down, before resuming his bruising work on her bare bottom. Becky would scream at first but ultimately dissolve into heaving sobs as the inevitability of her predicament suppressed all hopes of salvation.

He wonders if his father might indulge those corporal cravings later with the terrified girl kneeling in front of him?

Crouching beside his teenage captive, the man extends a gnarled hand and gropes the girl’s tremulous right breast.

“Well lookee here boy,” he growls in the direction of his son, “Thisn’s almost ripe fer the pickin’”

Gasping with shame and embarrassment, she pushes the man’s hand away, only to be rewarded with a vicious backhander that sends her sprawling in the dust. Off-balance and uncoordinated momentarily, her legs splay apart, delivering her voyeur an acutely indecent view of those plain white cotton panties. The upskirt visuals are not lost on the big man who chuckles at the girl’s predicament before crudely delving between her legs and taking delight in making illicit contact with the front of her knickers. The curved ingress and the smoothness beneath his fingers excites him. He thinks of Becky and how she might look, thus disheveled and prostrate before him.

His son takes in the decadent scene but a couple of arms-lengths away. His father frightens him.

Wriggling clear of her tormentor, the girl tugs the hem of her dress down, limiting the arousal factor and sits there breathing heavily, tears now trickling down both cheeks. Remorse is not a trait the older man has ever exhibited and taking a step towards her, he is able to see now quite clearly the curves of her young sixteen-year old breasts as she hugs her knees almost in defiance of his unspoken intent. Aware that her cleavage, though still a work-in-progress, is prominently displayed to the grinning degenerate leaning over her, she frees up her right hand to clasp the top of her dress to her chest. It is as fruitless a gesture as it is one borne of desperation.

“Please don’t hurt me.” she whimpers. As well may she have asked for a latte coffee with extra cream, given the likelihood of her plea falling on compassionate ears.

Wrenching her arm aside as if it were an annoying twig, the man shoves his hand down her top, encircling the breast and feeling the rush attendant on such under-age sexual fumbling. The girl cries-out in shocked surprise, her disbelieving mouth dropping open as she stares downwards, following the hand as it moves to her right bra cup roughly manipulating the softness there. She winces as the pressure increases on the nipple, aware inherently that resistance is useless at this juncture.

“Nuthin’ quite like a pair of sweet young titties son,” the ogre all but drools in the boy’s direction. “Come get a handful,” he grins lewdly, both hands rifling now the contents of the girl’s skimpy crossover. The boy makes no move, almost rendered immobile by the unfolding scene. The man shrugs and turns his attention back to the girl’s chest.

Without warning, he pushes her backwards and taking a firm hold of the halter around her upper chest, rips the material with such savagery, the dress tears all the way to her waist. Fully visible in the now clear moonlight, her barely-covered breasts heave with distress, bra straps loosely clinging to her arms. Further down, her slim hips and belly are exposed in all their youthful vulnerability. The waistband of the girl’s panties becomes the focal point for her attacker’s lustful contemplation.

“Ain’t no point lookin’ like Raggedy Ann sweetness,” he drawls, seizing hold of the last vestiges of her dress which he then strips away in seconds, heedless of her cries for him to stop. She lies there in miserable solitude, aware only too well of the effect her near-naked body must inevitably induce in her male captors. Indeed, watching the girl’s futile attempts to cover her bra and crotch area with those sadly undersize hands and arms, has already set in motion physiological changes in the boy’s procreational hardware. She can already see plainly the sexual metamorphisis underway beneath the ogre’s shabby Levis.

The man produces a hunting knife that glints in the moonlight. The boy swallows hard and stares at his father. This was something way outside the plan. Not for the first time – he feels a rising unease. Trembling with unutterable fear she stares wide-eyed as the blade of the knife descends, hastily slicing through the material holding the front of her bra together.

“What’s the problem girlie?” he guffaws “Figured I was gonna cut ya?” he slips the knife back into his belt.

“No way Jose,” he grins, “Wouldn’t wanna hurt a cute little teen queen like you sweets. Way too precious to hurt – leastways with a knife.” Smirking at his own double entendre, he reaches down and plucks away the shredded bra. She lays there shivering beneath the cool night sky, clad now in just her panties, hands barely covering her exposed breasts.

Observing the knife re-sheathed, the boy lets out a sigh of relief.

Expecting the worst as the big man kneels beside her, she is unprepared for what follows. In one movement he seizes her arm and pulls her half upright. Still trying to cover her breasts, she finds herself suddenly prostrate across the man’s knee – face down and helpless. The huge arm around her waist restricts all movement.

“Even a pretty little thing like you needs a whuppin’ once in a while girlie,” he mutters, delivering a hard smack to her upturned bottom. She cannot avoid a cry of pain and surprise. The second blow ripples the soft flesh. Even at the distance he is, the boy can see her taut little rear-end recoil from the assault. The next spank echoes across the highway but is heard by no more than the prairie dog and its immediate family. The man’s eyed are glued to the young girl’s panties. How like Becky she is! Those same damnably sexy little hips, curvy bottom and who knows what else skulking away there between her legs? Becky’s secrets had yet to be enjoyed to the max but tonight he would know true solace. He raises his hand a fourth time.