With a deep sigh of exhaustion, Robyn allowed her head to drop to the mattress, her ass still raised high behind her, Lobo's cock locked inside her defiled, sperm-flooded pussy. Tanya petted the dog, then lay down on the bed, opening her legs and presenting her hot pussy to the dog, who kicked his leg over his trapped penis and, asshole to asshole with the sleeping young girl he had just fucked to insensibility, lowered his head to lick at Tanya's open cunt.
Tanya came three times on Lobo's tongue before he could draw his cock from Robyn's forever-stretched vagina and separate himself from her shattered, quiescent body. Slowly, her hips lowered to the bed, though whether she was conscious or not, Tanya could not tell. She gave Lobo an appreciative petting before letting him out the window and into the outdoors where he roamed with his three male offspring, who were out there now seeking food and sex.
Closing the curtains and leaving the room in near darkness, she turned back to the teenager on the bed, noting how the gaping red hole of her pussy oozed a white stream of canine sperm. The bedspread would have to be dry cleaned, she noted. Naked, she lay down beside the younger girl, kissing and caressing her gently until nearly an hour later, she came around. Robyn was pliant, yet barely coherent as Tanya led her into the bathroom, seated her on the toilet, slid a syringe on the end of a long rubber tube into her vagina, and thoroughly douched out all the dog semen, and then as an afterthought, gave her an enema as well. She had decided that after Robyn had rested they could continue their own tender lovemaking. She didn't expect Rodney for some time yet, and even if he did show up while she and Robyn were writhing passionately in the sheets, she didn't care. It was time to have it out with him once and for all.
After finishing with the water bottle, she took the young beauty into the shower and washed them both, then toweled them and led her back to the bed, beginning a sensuous massage that she hoped would help arouse her both sexually and mentally. But Robyn still had not recovered her senses when the phone rang. Cursing, she answered it, and was surprised to hear Liz's voice on the other end.
"Tawny, get over here right away," Liz said with a discernable note of desperation in her voice. "Dusty's been shot. With a gun."
Tanya hung up immediately. This was a disaster and there was no arguing about it. She had to get to Liz's house and see what she could do. As she dressed, she looked at the sleeping girl, who lay with her fist to her mouth in innocent slumber. There was no time to wake her and bring her along. First things first, she told herself, and the dogs were a priority. Tanya would be back from Liz's place as soon as possible, and in the meantime, Robyn should be all right alone here, sleeping in the cozy bed.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two hours before that, while his wife was introducing the innocent teenager to one of the dogs he sought, Rodney found his feet near to exploding, so far had he followed the black sheriff through the fields and wooded hills around Pickford's Meadows. But Clete's diligence in seeking out the wild dog pack had increased proportionally to the size of the reward that Jim Devereaux had offered him just a few days before. Though Clete was obviously no great tracker, he did show wonderful conditioning. The man was a mountain of well-hardened muscle, and Rodney knew that he had spent several years in the marines, and had seen combat somewhere. He was a good pistol and rifle shot and he seemed to laugh at the idea of fatigue, carrying his weapons and field gear, while Rodney's slender frame struggled along lugging his recording and camera equipment.
Still, he was not sure where all this effort was leading them, or him. Back home, the bank was sending nasty letters about missed mortgage payments, a situation that had not originated with their coming to Pickford's Meadows but had rather been exacerbated by the unproductive time spent on this wild goose chase – or rather, wild dog chase. Things had been bad for Rodney and his young wife for several months and their home was near foreclosure. It was their dreadful financial state that had driven him to pursue this story about dogs that raped women, but the rumors had not been born out. None of the women rumored to have been set upon sexually by this Lobo and his canine companions would talk about it. Priscilla Devereaux was in the mental ward of the county hospital with injuries no one would talk about either, and there was no reliable way to document a dog attack, though her father had raised the reward sky high the day after she had been admitted. And, damn it all to hell, the dog sightings had nearly ceased completely the day he and Tanya had come to town, as if something about their presence had sent them into hiding. (Of course, he had no way of knowing that many times when he and Clete were out hunting them, the dogs were in the warm and hospitable company of Tanya and Liz Clark.)
The pressures of his disorganized life had left him exhausted, and he hadn't had time for days to visit Liz Clark and keep their little clandestine affair spinning. He knew it was wrong and that he should be giving his all to his lovely young wife, but Liz's pure sexual expertise kept him going back for more. Just thinking about her blowjobs caused him to shiver.
But today, Clete swore they were getting close, up here in the hills behind the Mitchell ranch. The big sheriff, tireless for all his size, kept his nose down, seeming to sniff the ground, almost like a dog himself.
Clete had learned a lot in the last couple of months about tracking, through trial and error, though mostly error. He had assiduously avoided bringing in a professional hunter, for he had no desire to share the reward with anyone else, especially now that Jim Devereaux had made it fifty thousand a head. He was positive that one of them had raped Priscilla, and it made him smile to think of how she had had a taste of her own degrading medicine, after hoping for the worst for DesirЋe, and doing the most to foster it.
But he had to get results now, he knew, for the town council was pressuring him, Devereaux was calling him two or three times a day – Priscilla wasn't out of hospital yet – and several citizens had called him up complaining. John Proctor's ugly old wife had been scared by the beast, and his daughter had been raped in plain sight of her three female companions one night after a movie when they had taken a shortcut across a meadow. Though he deemed Proctor's daughter Darla lucky for the attention – with her looks it was probably the only cock she would ever know – he still had to answer the calls. Still, he was not sure that the four girls had not invented the episode just to get attention and excitement into their dull, wallflower-girl lives.
Rodney was just about to begin complaining about his feet, when Clete suddenly turned, whipping his finger up to his lips. The young reporter stopped still as a statue, his whole body quivering with excitement. Clete had never done this, but Rodney had never seen the sheriff gesture him to urgent silence before. He had to admit that the tracks they were following did seem to be fresher and easier to read than any he had yet seen.