But the special treatment wasn't to last, she soon learned. For as with the man in the car, as with Lew in the garage, someone was feeling her legs, her thighs, inching toward her hot, red pussy. She moaned, not wanting to waken. The word Lew had spoken, placing undue emphasis on it, kept blinking like a bright neon warning inside her head.
Despite not wanting to, she had to awaken when the finger slipped up her tight little cunthole. "Oh! Ahhh!"
"There's a good little fucker. Good 'n' juicy!" The finger plowed deeper, spreading her tender cunt lips.
Gasping, trying to see the face above her in the dark room, Wendy clutched the thick wrist attached to the hand pushing the rough finger up her vulva. A house, she thought, recalling what Miss Alberta had said about expecting men visitors. Lew – oh, fucking Lew! He'd done it to her again. Instead of helping, he'd delivered her to a whorehouse: a place where degenerates came to sate their perverted desires.
The fingers which weren't fucking her pussy dug into the crack of her ass. At Miss Alberta's insistence, she'd gone to bed nude, making it easy for the huge, bony knees forcing her legs apart. Silently she wrestled with the hand. She twisted, turning onto her side to escape the fat dickhead throbbing against the smooth flesh of her inner thigh.
"Oh my. Oh my, I like that," said the strong, faceless man. "Fight some more, honey. Sweet cunt! Wrestle! Alberta said you'd be a super surprise something special! Pretend I'm takin' it, make it better! Gimme a good one!" The hand slipped from her wet twat, joining the one at her waist. Cruelly he squeezed.
Wendy tried to gulp air into her tortured lungs. But it was as if the hands were steel gauntlets, crushing her ribs, squeezing the last ounce of breath from her trembling body. She felt herself being lifted, weightless for a moment, before the man flung her onto her belly, her legs spread wide. She felt his suffocating bulk come down on her back; felt his fat cock, his balls, and the hair that grew like cactus needles over most of his flesh. There was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him. He was bigger and stronger than her, and she was being taken – no! Sold! She supposed Miss Alberta had auctioned her off, as if she were a common little street tramp.
"There's a sweet little hot bitch," panted the man into her ear. He relinquished his hold on her waist and his hands explored her bruised buttocks. "Arrrrrrrrrrrrr," he breathed, tracing the welts. "Someone's been at you good 'n' proper. With a belt, I'd say. Yeah! Nothing like a good flogging to warm up a sweet, fucking bottom like yours."
"Oh! OH! Aaahhh…" Wendy thrashed. The fingers were at her again, opening her front and rear ports. And the cock, the fiery shaft grazing the inside of her thighs, was humping closer, closer and closer to her hot, hairy pink slit. She closed her cunt muscles and bit down on her lip, straining to thwart the invasion.
"Fucking cock-teasing whore!" Taking a fistful of hair, the man yanked her head back. "Gimme!"
"But I… I'm not one of the girls," she wailed, still holding tight, refusing to open her cunt for the knob of his ferocious prick. "I… I'm not. I'M NOT!"
"Fuck you ain't, girlie. You're, here, ain't ya? Well, ain't ya?" Again he yanked hard on her hair.
Dam them all, anyway! thought Wendy. What could she say? She was indeed there, in the dark, in the bed… naked. The fresh welts on her ass proved she'd known cruel hands before, and her cunthole – darn it! Oh, darn the thing! Her cunthole, almost as if it possessed a will of its own, was beginning to accept the tip of his big, anxious cock.
"Arrrr! Arrghh!!" The man abandoned her hair. Now his hands gripped her hips, and held her down… He fucked his loins back, and thrust into her hard. The glans of his rod parted her cunthair, and disappeared slowly into the wet warmth of her sheath.
Wendy moaned, but it wasn't a protest, a sound caused by pain. In spite of herself and her display of reluctance, the stiffness was making her tiny clit leap for joy. It was horrid of her, obscene, but she was beginning to like it. Her cunthole was taking him in, in. Her legs were coming wide apart. Wider than ever before. Wider than humanly possible, it seemed, making the hot, juicy depths of her sex more accessible.
"Ar, Christ! Baby, that's fucking good. Good 'n' fucking tight, that is! Yeah! And you're a fighter, too. Wrestle some more, baby. Make like I'm makin' you."
But you are! she wanted to cry. You are making me! Everyone made her do it – the most awful things. She'd read stories about young girls in wartime, where the soldiers came into a village after months of fighting without touching or even seeing a woman. Stories of pillage and rape. Tales of degradation, where rifle barrels were forced up the enemy twat. She recalled one in particular, a Japanese girl her own age, where an entire team of American paratroopers had fucked her and reamed out her asshole and left her for dead. She remembered the sting of tears in her eyes when she'd read about it. The poor girl! she'd thought. Now she thought, poor Wendy! Poor little Wendy. It wasn't wartime, she wasn't the enemy, and still they found perverted excuses to shove hard things up her belly.
With a sigh the man buried the last of his rod. His hands crept up her sides, to her breasts. His fingers toyed with her nipples. He let his cock soak, not moving, lying with his full weight on her back.
Wendy began to breathe faster. It wasn't so bad, she decided. Once it was in, it always seemed to get good. She could feel it, feel the long, cylindrical shape basking inside her belly. Momentarily she wondered what had become of the good girl she used to be, the old Wendy, the one who'd walked trembling into the State Home for Girls, and would never, absolutely never, give up cunt to a stranger.
Especially after the man hurt her. Particularly since she couldn't see his face, and didn't know whether he was black or white, or handsome or ugly, or short or tall or fucking whatever.
Slowly the big dick up her cunthole began to retreat. She hissed air through clenched teeth, thinking how hard it was: the hardest ever! She felt the inner folds of her pussy close as it pulled back.
"Oh… Oh Daddy, oh!"
"I'll be Goddamned," grunted the man, pushing it slowly, ever so slowly and maddeningly, back up her vulva. "If I was your Daddy, little sweetie, I'd never let you out of my fucking sight. I always wanted a daughter. To fuck! Yeah! I'd sure like to be your Daddy – putting it to you regular like."
"Daddy does," she heard herself whisper, and was immediately sorry.
"Huh? What's this?"
"I… I…"
The man cackled gleefully. "You fuck for your Daddy," he said: "Son of a bitch!"
Again he traced the welts of her ass, raising up as if he could see in the dark. She wished he could see. She suddenly wished the room could be flooded with light, so he could see her and she could see him, and look back over her shoulder and watch the long stiffness drive into her.
"Should've known," said the man, caressing the welts, the split down the center of her small, plump behind. "Pretty little girlie like you. Why, if you was mine – ah! Ummmmm!" With a thumb and two fingers he opened her sphincter, slipped his dick out of her cunt, and set the round tip at her asshole. "If you was my own little cunt, my daughter, I'd have been sticking it to ya back here even before you had hair."
Wendy closed her eyes and moaned. It felt just like her daddy back there, and it made her drunk with desire. She hated being reamed; true: it made her feel like a faggot, a boy giving his girlish bottom to a man. But a rod at her asshole brought back scenes from the home: the Coke bottles, the broomsticks, and Crazy Inez moving wildly up and down the leg of the bed. She pumped her hips off the bedding, waiting for the shaft to go in, tensing in anticipation of the pain of penetration.