Chapter 2

The spring became sweet again. Or bittersweet. She always loved the ripening of the leaves on the trees, the slow emergence of green all over the land, the softening up of the earth. It rained for one week straight and then the whole farm became mud and she had to muck through the yard in big boots to do her chores.

She went to school every day and avoided the advances of the local boys. If her father ever found her flirting with one of them he would kill her, or come close to it she knew that. Now he would come to the schoolyard sometimes and watch her playing through the fence. Her games became stiff and self-conscious then, and her girlfriends noticed the strange situation, and they became distant. They were all afraid of Lena's father and ran to the far yard of the schoolyard when they saw him watching them.

Sometimes he waited for her after school, waiting in the truck while all the other kids went by, until he saw her. He would signal to her with his finger, and she would have to leave her other girlfriends.

"My father's here to pick me up again, I have to go," she said with an unhappy look on her face. Her girlfriend Ellen squeezed her hand and kissed her cheek before running off with the other girls. Lena would climb into the truck next to her father.

He usually took her to an abandoned barn he knew about down by Kingfisher River. Usually she was sobbing at first, as he stopped the truck and pulled her out. He pulled her stumbling behind him to the shack where he made her lie on the floor and put his cock in her mouth or cunt.

He whispered to her coarsely at these times: "I like your cunt, my girl. Not every man's got a daughter with such pussy on her."

He liked to part her cunt with his dirty fingers to ready it for his reddened cock. He liked to force his cock between her teeth and down her throat.

For a few weeks he would take her only from behind, forcing her to her knees so he could drive his shaft home into the mound that stuck out between her thighs.

He couldn't keep his hands off her boobs, and he began to grow bolder, sticking his hands inside her shirt to squeeze her boobs couched in her white bra, as he passed her in the hall at home.

Still, every time her father took her as his sullen victim, she sought revenge by going out into the barn that night and finding pleasure with his horse. For as much revulsion as her father evoked in her, ten times greater was the pleasure with the stallion Red Beauty.

She rigged a harness for herself, by which she could strap herself to the animal's underside, belly to belly. Her legs boldly apart, her cunt pink and wet and wanting, strapped to her hero, she rode to glory with his long horsecock poling into her hole.

She had seen horses mate before, and she had seen these stallions mate. The male of the horse species mates ferociously with its female.

But for her, Red Beauty remained almost completely still, as if hypnotized. The horse seemed to sense quite clearly that another than one of his kind was mounting him, and with his silence and his acquiescence he seemed to be paying homage to the higher species which sought him out. He seemed to understand the honor she was paying him, and he let her pay it freely.

Horsecock was the only thing that could satisfy her now. She laughed at school when the boys took interest in her, or when the other girls had crushes on this boy or that. The other girls didn't understand her. She acted so superior when it came to boys but they never saw her go out with one.

"Boys don't interest me," was all she would ever say to enlighten the mystery. "And men? Well, I'm waiting to see a real man. I don't believe I've ever seen one."

"What are you crazy? Mr. Nolte's a man and he teaches right here in this school. Your father's a man and you see others, what do you mean you've never seen a real man?" asked Ellen. Ellen was a tall thin girl who felt very self-conscious because of her height. She towered above all the boys in their class. Her body had not begun developing yet, and she still had only little nipples for breasts.

Lena looked at Mr. Nolte walking by, a bald man with an undefined bundle between his legs, under his baggy pants, and she had to laugh.

Ellen looked at her peculiarly and walked away.

Mr. Hanson did not appear at the schoolyard for a week. He was in town arranging for the transfer of the King bull to his farm to mate with his cows. Some of the cows were birthing now in the spring from the last time he brought the bull to them. He wanted another litter in the making. He received good prices on his calves.

Joe King agreed to bring his bull around the next Saturday. Roland Hanson looked forward to the occasion. He forgot about his daughter for a while and contented himself evenings taking his stallions, first one then the other, out for rides across the countryside.

Lena watched from behind the fence as the figure of her father, burly and heavy, on the swift shape of Red Beauty became a speck on the horizon. She grew angry thinking of her father's thighs goading Red Beauty's flanks. She knew that her father's whip would be no more sparing to his horse than his words or actions were to his wife and daughter.

But there was nothing she could do about this anger. She couldn't even speak of it to anyone, and now, her beauty, which was taking shape and growing every day, began to take on a sullen, inward look.

Brad King came by one evening to pick up his pay from her father and she was in the yard when he pulled up in his car. He had a '68 Chevy with all the chrome polished on it, and she admired the car.

"You like her, huh?" Brad stuck his head out the window and asked her. "Yep, I paid for her and fixed her all up myself. You should have seen her when I first got her," he shook his head.

"Well my father's not home right now He went out riding about an hour ago."

"Well, I guess I could wait a while, see if he comes back. I sure could use that dough," he eyed her up and down. She was wearing a pair of old blue jeans and thin red shirt.

"You and me should go out some time," he said. "I'll take you for a ride in my jalopy."

She laughed sadly. "No, I don't think so." Brad was already graduated from high school. He was eighteen years old and already looked like a man. He had been working his father's land since he was a kid and had grown straight into a man's big body. He had sandy-colored hair, like her own, and blue-grey eyes with a kind look to them. He had thin hungry looking lips. He shifted in his seat.

"Why not? Don't you think I'm good enough for you?" He looked at the plump mounds jiggling right under the thin red fabric of her blouse and he allowed his glance to slip down to the v-shaped wrinkles of her tight jeans as they gripped her between the legs. He remembered that she was only twelve years old.

"I'm too young to go out with boys. Besides, my father would kill me."

"Oh, so your father don't want you seeing no men," he eyed the shape of her ass as she bent down to tie her moccasin.

They heard a galloping against the earth and saw Mr. Hanson come riding across the field behind the barn. He rode up and stopped the horse between them.

"What are you doing there, son?" he asked speaking down to the boy in the car. "Just talking to your daughter while I was waiting for you, sir. Remember you said you'd have my pay for me today?"

"Oh yes, I'll go in the house and get it. And you, get on with your chores, sister. Don't be wasting your time chitter- chattering with those mooney eyes."

"I swear," he went on in the kitchen as he counted out the money to Brad King, "they say in the church that women are pure and saintly, but every woman I've ever known has been hornier than a female feline in heat.

Except the female of the human species is like that ALL THE TIME. Fifty-sixty-sixty-five," he counted out.

"Don't you agree with me, Brad?" he asked.

"Yessir," said Brad.

"Listen, don't you let me catch you hanging around my little Lena. That girl's very precious to me, and I won't have no country hicks knocking her up before her time. You hear me, boy?"

"Yessir. Nothing could be farther from my mind," Brad said.

Her father took her brutally that night. He made no show of hiding what he was about. After dinner, while her mother was at the sink doing the dishes, Lena tried on a new dress she had ordered through the mail. It had just come that day. Her mother pinned it up for her and then she went to her room and changed back into her jeans. She sat cross-legged on the floor, watching TV, with pins in her mouth, as she sewed. She had a good, clever little stitch. All the while her father sat smoking and watching her. He watched every movement of her tits beneath her blouse, and every strain of the denim across her cunt.

Lena was aware of his eyes, but felt safe because of her mother's presence. Surely he couldn't take her right in front of her mother.

Suddenly he swooped down on her, scattering her dish of pins, and simply picked her up and carried her through the kitchen and out of the house under his arm.

"Roland, what are you doing?" screeched and flapped his wife Mara at the kitchen door as she watched her husband carry her daughter to the barn.

"Shut up and keep out of here," he merely roared at her over her shoulder.

She stood for a moment nervously wringing a towel in her hand as she stared at the closed barn door.

Inside, Roland Hanson tied his daughter's neck to the base of one of the posts. He didn't have to fear her flailing arms and legs.

"Mother! MOTHER!" she was screaming.

"No, cunt, I'm your father," he slapped her face back and forth until she stopped screaming. He left the red imprint of his fingers across her face He parted her thighs with his rough knees. His own thighs were like mountains, thick and heavy and strong. The white skin of her own thighs, cruelly parted, against his, was like cream lying beside mutton.

His cock was hurting him in his pants. The tip of it stuck above the waistband. He tore the buckle open on his belt and unzipped his fly. He squashed his cock into her face, dragging the end of the huge member across her cheeks and lips and nose, across her eyes, smashing her face with it.

"So you got the hots for Brad King, do you. Open your eyes and take your fill of the likes of a real man," he snarled in her ear.

She opened her eyes in time to witness his cock take aim for a moment over her mouth. His hands, one on her upper and one on her lower jaw, pried her mouth open. She watched the cock descend into her small gaping mouth.

It filled all the space between her tongue and the roof of her mouth, then pushed further into the hole of her throat. Again and again he raised and then lowered himself down into the soft cunt-like flesh of her throat, while she choked and sputtered and tried to keep breathing through her nose.

"You think Brad King's thingie is as big and bad as mine," he whispered evilly into her ear.

She was just breathing and trying to open her mouth wide to allow him the kind of access he insisted on, so he would get his rocks off and let her loose.

But he wanted an answer to his question.

He reached behind him, as he sat on her chest plunging his cock into her face, for her boobs. He found one with one hand and he juggled it in his hand so full and weighty was it. He found and juggled the other one. Then his fingers sought the nipple, which he treated with a sharp twist.

"Owwww," a gurgled sound came out of her full mouth, and she tossed her head, which made her choke even more as she was brought up short by the leather thong around her neck.

"Do you think his cock is as big as mine?" he demanded of her again giving the nipple another good hard twist.

"Nnnnn," she shook her head from side to side.

He seemed satisfied with her answer for he jumped out, pulling his cock out of her mouth and he stood above her naked body.

Kneeling he forced her legs apart again and he surveyed the pink pussy lying helpless before him, couched in her wheat-colored cunt hair. He spat on the cunt to make it slippery wet.

"Driest fucking cunt in the Midwest," he said with contempt.

Then he made a fist and began to try to shove it in her now wet cunt. She shrieked with pain, for he had grabbed some of her hair in his fist, and he was mercilessly trying to get all five of his crumpled fingers and knotted knuckles up her at once, and indeed he did. He kept at it until he had worked his fist all the way in.

He chortled, "Look!" he said. "Look!" he shook his fist in her cunt swinging her body around, and she, exhausted, tried to raise her head and look as he said.

She saw him, the end of his arm sunk way deep into her. He looked like an amputee.

"Now I've got you where I want you!" he said. "If you ever so much as breathe in Brad King's direction, do you know what I'll do to you?" he asked.

Again he forced her to make some kind of answer. She shook her head. He told her.

"I'll stuff all kinds of things into you, I'll fuck with anything I can find lying around. I'll fuck you so good and so long and so hard that no man will want your raggedy meat after that. I'll make your cunt loose its memory that there's any such thing as a another man's cock in the world."