CHAPTER EIGHT
Seething with anger, Priscilla left the Raddison Hotel, three men carrying her seven bags to the taxi. There was no point in her staying here to be rejected again by Mark Denning. She was used to getting what she wanted, everything she wanted, when she wanted it, and that little sweet-voiced, big-titted, virgin-bodied DesirЋe Mitchell was not going to get in the way of that for long. Now that Mark was on his way up in the state political system, there was no reason why Priscilla herself shouldn't be able to enjoy that success with him. Let little Dezzy go back where she came from, to Chicago and the university scene, and her big cavernous church with the forty-voice choir and the clanging bells and the old man in his long, silk robes. That was the place for the little bitch.
Oh, how she had wanted Mark's hard, loving cock tonight! And how much he had hurt her in withholding it! Her self-centered existence demanded that she prevail. All her life, her father had made sure that she had got what she wanted, within the sphere of their social group. Mark was now qualified to enter there, more than worthy of the company of the Devereauxs and the high-classed country social scene they built their lives around.
At the private airport, Priscilla's father's plane Cessna was waiting for her. As she boarded, she wracked her brain for thoughts of revenge or some kind of way to manipulate the situation to her advantage, to somehow spoil things for that holier-than-thou DesirЋe Mitchell and turn Mark away from the marriage he seemed to be contemplating with such single-minded intent.
Somehow…
But as soon as the sunlight crept over the windowsill of her bedroom, "little" DesirЋe awoke to her own private hell already, entirely without the help of the vengeful Priscilla Devereaux. At first she hoped that her memories of the young man inside her and the subsequently consummated dog fucking had been a bizarre dream, but a closer examination of her inner thighs and hollows at the back of her knees revealed the animal's dried sperm, and touching the still-swollen labia that had been battered so thoroughly by the German Shepherd's rampant penis. It was beyond belief, yet it had happened. A feral dog's penis had been in her vagina, ramming in and out, filling it with sperm. And, at the time, she had loved it, fallen right in with the dog's rutting, become a wild bitch animal herself. Not only was she repulsed by what had been done to her, she was disgusted at how she had reacted, without any thought of morality or decency.
It was just as Liz had said. Lobo's cock made a woman his slave.
DesirЋe reached for the phone by the bed. She felt sick at heart and she needed to hear Mark's dear voice. She dialed the Raddison and asked to be connected to his room. It took much too long for her sweetheart to answer.
"Darling?" DesirЋe said in a trembling voice.
"Dez?" Mark's tone was solicitous. "Dez? Are you all right?"
She sniffled and felt a tear streak its way past the corner of her mouth. "Uh, yes, darling. I just wanted to hear your voice."
"You miss me that much, baby?" Mark sounded touched.
"Oh, yes, yes I do," she said, silent sobs wracking her breast and causing her bosom to shake. "I miss you so much. Please come home to me."
Mark chuckled. "But Dez, I've only been gone a day. You can hold on a while longer. You lived without me for nineteen years."
DesirЋe touched her trembling lips. "Mark, Mark, I know you're doing something important, but please don't take too long."
"I'm here with your parents, and I promise that when I'm done with what I have to do, I'll be back there by your side so fast you won't believe it. Is that good enough for you, sweetie?"
The darling girl bit her lip and nodded. "I suppose so."
"All right, then, be good. The time will go fast. Why don't you go visit Liz. How's choir practice going?"
"Just fine."
"Keep thinking of me, darling. You know you're my one and only." There was a pause. "Baby, I've got to go. There's another call coming through." The line went dead.
DesirЋe turned over and began to sob.
She cried for a long time, until her eyes were puffy. But now she knew she had to go out and do something that she dreaded. After stripping the sheets from the bed, she took a long time showering, trying to wash away the dregs of the horrible act she had participated in, cupping handfuls of water up into her pleasure-inflamed, abused pussy, trying to rinse away the residue of the dog's semen. She let the water run over her face for a long time, but her eyes were still swollen when she looked in the mirror, so she went to the refrigerator, took out some ice, and applied it directly to her cheeks beneath her dewy blue eyes.
As she left the house to take her car to town, DesirЋe sniffed back her tears. She knew what she had to do. She loved Mark so much. She couldn't allow this awful deed to lie fermenting in her mind. She would have to find Pastor Hemmings, tell him what she had done, and get him to absolve her somehow, to purge her guilt before she saw Mark again. It was the only thing she could do.
The only thing.
Clete Anderson partially staggered into the kitchen of Nancy Purcell's uncle's house shortly after noon. In his disgruntled mind he was well aware of his drunkenness, as well as the dull, throbbing ache at his heavy loins. He had been waiting at the top of the rise for Nancy's relatives to leave before letting himself in. The kitchen door swung toward him and his aggrieved fiancee, Nancy, entered carrying an empty plate and beer-bottle. Clete stared at her in the tightly clinging house dress, revealing the beginning swell of curved white flesh to her smooth young buttocks when she crossed to him. His eyes jerked upward to the wispy little halter that was barely containing her firm, full breasts, and she smiled at him, tossing her chestnut-hair back, the movement causing the youthful, ripe mounds to gently ripple. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him.
"How'd you get here, Clete?" she said, placing the dish and bottle in the sink. "Hope you don't mind my drinking a beer. I haven't felt right since…" She dropped her eyes and tried not to cry.
"O-One now and then won't hurt you," he said with thickened tongue.
"Are you hungry? Can I get you some lunch… or breakfast?"
He stared at the tempting white columns of her teenage legs, their full roundness of thigh, the satin-like, tapering shapeliness of their youth as they swept downward curvaceously into slender ankles. She was barefooted, her toes glinting with pearlish nail-polish. His red-rimmed eyes razed back upward over her, hungrily dwelling on the curved arch of her ovalled young buttocks inside their skin-tight, contrasting hot pants, and the way they nuzzled tightly into the crotch below her flat teenage belly. The big black man swallowed dryly, his eyes gaping at the naked smooth flesh whitely separating the two black garments, and again as they raised to the lushness of her thrusting, girlish breasts, their tiny pebble-like nipples embossed against the flimsy material hiding them from him.
"Can… can I get you something, Clete?" Nancy repeated, her voice momentarily catching.
Clete licked at his lips, then grinned at her. "You can open this beer, baby," he said, and then when she came close enough, he reached out to encircle his powerful arm around her slender waist.
A little gasp of surprise escaped Nancy as he effortlessly snuggled her against him, his coarse, black chest hair and unshaven face roughly grazing the soft flesh of her left arm, while his big hand spread hotly across her naked midriff. "You're a sweet little girl, baby," he hissed, "and it's time you and I started being like grown-up lovers."
"Oh, Clete," she heard herself say, hardly aware that she was even speaking. The feel of his male closeness and his hot, rough hand on her sensitive exposed skin flashing an unexpected sensation to her brain. "Better let me go if you want this beer opened…"