DesirЋe was so happy to be in their new home as she went about decorating it tirelessly all day. Of course, it was not nearly as large as her father's house where she had lived before their sudden, rushed marriage. Yes, it was already decorated according to his bachelor's tastes, but he had given her carte blanche to make it the way she liked it, and she worked happily at that task – with restraint, so as not to insult his male ego.
Forgotten in the glow of love and passion were the things that had driven her to beg him to marry her with so little practical preparation, the rape she had suffered with the unknown burglar, the feelings of repugnance that had turned to weakness and desire unfulfilled, only to be ultimately fulfilled by the wild, raping dog Lobo, her friend Liz's runaway pet. If that had not been enough to drive her over the edge, her seduction by Dr. Hemmings, the town's dual-duty preacher and general medical practitioner, had. How strange that the same man had had intercourse with her in his office, bent over his examining table with her tender, tingling buttocks pliantly uplifted to his incredibly pleasure-giving cock-thrusts.
The crowning irony was that he should be the one to pronounce the vows to her and Mark just a few weeks later over the alter in the community church. She had been unable to meet the pastor's eye, but he strangely seemed untouched by the horrible sin they had committed. It had been with relief that she had run from the church with Mark after the ceremony and taken the limousine to the airport and their wonderful, cathartic, memory-expunging honeymoon.
Now she was happy. Nothing must be allowed ever to mar the perfect life they were making for themselves, Mark's career in politics and hers in music, which she must soon resume. Of course, there would be babies, at least two. That was expected of a politician's wife, a solid family and home. And she supposed the children would come soon, since Mark had forbidden her to use birth control of any kind. He was hoping for a child within a year, too late for the election, but she might possibly be visibly pregnant during the campaign. All part of the campaign, though not just for show. Mark was as family oriented as she.
DesirЋe was determined that their home should be in reality just as fine as their future constituents would expect it to be.
So she prepared a candle-light dinner, his favorite meat dish and the wine he liked. She had had wine the first time that day they had first made love in the field beneath the elm, and then only occasionally on their honeymoon, so it wasn't becoming a habit, but tomorrow he would be leaving for the capital and she would not see him for almost a week. The thought depressed her, for she would not have his ardent and thrilling nightly lovemaking until he returned. Passing her hand over her belly, down to her plump pussy mound, she shivered. How could that hot, wet love-hole survive without his lovely penis.
What a wanton bitch she would have turned out to be if she hadn't married Mark! She blessed her decision to marry him quickly. But if he knew what had driven her to beg him to take her to the altar, he would be profoundly shocked. She was still shocked herself by what had been done to her by those three unprincipled males.
Mark was late coming home, but she was understanding when he walked through the door, his face tired and his clothing wrinkled. His aspect didn't deter her from throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him warmly.
"How's my darling tonight?" she purred. "Baby looks all done in."
Mark didn't meet her eyes. "I am, DesirЋe." He shook his head sadly and noticed the dinner table. His face looked sad. "Let me wash up."
DesirЋe waited for him at the table, her flesh steaming up with thoughts of getting into bed with him tonight. She was so keyed up with the day's activity and being indoors all day. He was what she needed to cool her energetic body.
Mark sat down, his gaze briefly touching her face, but in the shadows she couldn't read anything there.
"How'd it go, sweetheart?" she asked soothingly.
He shook his head. "There are drugs being sold around the high school and the disco and Clete seems unable to catch the culprits. I went out to the Pace ranch today to see if anyone out there would let slip any information."
"And?"
"No luck. Nancy knows nothing, but I've got a feeling Clete is involved with them, protecting them. If he is, the poor girl will be in for a heartbreaking shock when he gets caught. I don't trust him."
"I've never liked him," DesirЋe confessed. "He's always made me uncomfortable, the way he looks at a girl."
Mark gave a grunt. "Well, Nancy's getting all his looks now. The girl has changed – really changed, since her experience with that dog."
DesirЋe froze at his mention of the wild animal she knew only too well.
"Even so, he wanted the council to put up a bounty of five thousand dollars on that dog. I don't think he's going to put any real effort into catching it until there's money in it for him."
DesirЋe's eyes clouded when he mentioned the dog, Lobo. The night he had visited her, licked her to sensuous defeat, mounted her, and used his giant, red cock to bring her to orgasm, was brought back to her vividly. She recalled how after that she had slept with her windows and shutters closed until moving out of her parent's home into this lovely new house of Mark's.
The young husband ate sparsely while DesirЋe, her hands trembling with emotions she didn't want to feel, stuffed herself with her own delicious meal. It wasn't until she was full and had followed him into the bedroom that she noticed that he just wasn't himself.
Kicking off his pants, Mark fell into bed. While she watched him, DesirЋe disrobed her lithe, voluptuous body in a way she thought provocative until she noticed that his eyes weren't even open. Completely naked, her large, firm breasts jiggling with her movements, she slid in beside him, feeling her vagina moistening in anticipation of what she hoped he would give her. Her hand went to his strong chest, down over his belly, then timidly to his cock. She had never taken the initiative before, but she felt so hot, so hot. Her fingers tentatively explored his soft pubic hair, finding it slightly crusty with something, and then found his flaccid penis.
Mark groaned groggily, apologizing for his lack of energy. He was already nearly asleep!
The young woman moaned with disappointment, an irritating tension creeping up her spine. Here she was aroused and wide-awake, with Mark dead to the world.
DesirЋe rolled onto her back, biting her lip. Her hands stole up and cupped her breasts, pinching her neglected, pink, hard nipples. Her breath quickened. Just the proximity of him excited her. Her fingers traveled down to her dribbling pussy, pushing into the warm vulval crease and beginning to manipulate her twitching clitoris with one hand while the fingers of the other plunged into her tight, silky, lonely, love channel.
Mark was too deep asleep, dreaming of his afternoon activity with Nancy Pace, to hear his young bride's whimpers of pleasure as she fantasized about him.
"THAT S-S-SON OF A B-BITCH!" roared Clete Anderson, gibbering with jealous anger. He'd been sitting behind the scarred desk in his office, staring idly at the half-empty bourbon-bottle he'd been nursing, while lecherously dreaming of the tightly rounded, naked young ass DesirЋe Denning. The jangling phone had interrupted his lust-whetting thoughts, but the irritation in his voice quickly faded when Priscilla, the fire-breathing daughter of the town's biggest big-wig, bitterly unloaded on him! Goddamn, he couldn't believe it! Nancy and Mark Denning! That little two-timing bitch!
In nothing short of lynx-eyed rage, Priscilla wasted no time in reaching the Pickford's Meadows Police Chief. Nor did she mince words with the barrel-chested official in conveying to him what she thought of his "little whore fiancee"!
"Y-You're sure? I mean…"
"You don't know your own stupidity, do you, Anderson! I don't make mistakes! You ought to know that!" she grated into his ear, causing him to momentarily jerk the receiver away. "I saw when they parked, then left the old quarry, and I tell you true they weren't there looking for rocks! I saw the whole thing, humping, sweating and screaming. But that's neither here nor there! You listening?"
"Y-Yeah, sure, Priscilla! I'm hearing every word!" the swollen-faced police officer replied, his mean eyes vindictively glaring with the thoughts of what he would do to the unfaithful little cunt for this! And Denning, that sonofabitch, he'd hang him by his balls!
"I know what you're thinking, but forget it!" the snapping voice of the auburn-haired girl intuitively ordered. "We're doing this my way, just as we planned! Understand?"
"Right, right, your way, Priscilla," Anderson quickly agreed, though his own vengeful thoughts were far from forgotten. "Just name the time."
"Tonight, if I can inveigle DesirЋe Denning out here to the ranch. Unless I've lost my grip, you can count on it," Priscilla swore, her words reaching him with a somewhat snakelike hiss. "I'll call you back to verify everything within an hour or so. I want Mark Denning's balls tacked right up over my bed, Clete, you understand?"
"Right, I know! You can count on me!" Anderson answered in a half-drunken, private viciousness of his own.
"I better be able to! Get some camera equipment ready, video and an SLR, and don't forget to see your little friend and get the acid," she reminded him. "We'll catch the whole scene on film – but remember, keep my face out of it, understand! Do what ever you want with the rest of me."
"Right," Clete said, lustfully grinning at the prospective thought. "Don't worry, honey, they'll be pictorial gems."
"Okay, okay, I can just imagine what's going through that lecherous brain of yours. You just sit there and think about it until I call you and verify that it's on, and don't come out here drunk," warned Pickford's Meadows' richest and most powerful bachelorette. "Or I might just have two pair of balls hanging over my bed!" Priscilla turned away and picked up the phone. "Now I think I'll give the little angel a discreet phone call. Do you mind?"
"No problem," Clete said. "But first let me call Johnny Canning and have him round up some LSD or something for you," Clete said, dialing the young pusher's portable number. He had to wait a long time before Canning answered. "Yeah, Johnny. Meet me out on the south road in an hour. Yeah, and bring some LSD and other things." He smiled at Priscilla. "Now you can call little DesirЋe and start the ball rolling."
Priscilla smiled wickedly and picked up the phone.
In his private pickup truck Clete picked up the sleazy young pusher out on the road where he had said. Johnny climbed in and lit a cigarette.
"I guess I don't have to ask what this is for," Johnny said, blowing a thick cloud of smoke and handing the sheriff a small packet. "DesirЋe Mitchell?"
"Denning now, but shut your face," Clete said sharply. "What makes you think it's for her?"
Johnny chuckled. "Just guessed. Where we going?"
Clete spurred the pickup along the road. "I might need your help for something." He nodded his head at a burlap bag on the floor. "We're going to create a need for a twenty thousand-dollar bounty on that dog's head."
"How's that?" Johnny asked, reaching into the bag and coming out with a strange object. It was a garden cultivating tool used for raking flower beds, a five-clawed affair, but it was obvious that the ends had been sharpened on a grinder to a razor-like sharpness. There was also a plastic bag full of what looked like animal hair and – shock horror – a large dried animal's foot that looked like it came from a dog. "What's this?"
"That's a little instrument for making tooth marks on livestock."
"What kind of hair is this?"
Clete grinned. "Dog hair. German Shepherd dog hair, and a foot for making a few tracks."
"Oh," Johnny grunted, understanding nothing. "What's it all about, then?"
Clete shook his head scornfully. "I think you've been getting high on your own supply," he said. "We're going to go out an kill a few cows with the tool and leave some dog hair on the carcasses. Got it?"
"Yeah, but why?"
Clete shook his head disdainfully. "I've been trying to talk the town council into putting a price on the dog's head. So I kill a few of their cattle, councilors animals too, and they'll be happy to do it. Then we'll do it again until they raise it to twenty grand. Councilors aren't so apathetic when it's their cows that are getting ripped up."
"Oh, yeah," Johnny said quietly. "How stupid of me not to guess."
"So we're going out in the fields. I can tear the throats out of a few animals. I can hunt the dirty bastard down, and then I won't have to go for the reward on you."
Johnny jerked back. "Geez, you wouldn't do that, would you, Clete?"
"Not if I don't have to," Clete said enigmatically, pulling to a stop next to a fence. He got out, picked up the bag of "tools", and started moving. Johnny followed suit, chucking away his cigarette butt. "Pick that up," Clete said. "I don't want any evidence that we were here." The sheriff started walking across the field, toward a distant group of cattle. "Of course, I'll be called out to investigate and the forensics will turn up some dog hair, and if we can't get a price on that fucking dog's head after that, than the councilmen are dumber than I thought."
"Well, what am I doing here?" Johnny groaned. "I'm a businessman. What if someone sees us?"
Clete spat at a cow pie. "I've checked the area out and there's no one around."
"What about our prints?"
"There's lots of farmers prints around here. Just don't step in any cow shit or mud puddles. Remember, I'll be running the investigation anyway, so we'll only find what I want to find."
"But what do I do."
"I just want you to hold a few cows' heads still while I rip out their throats."
Johnny looked at Clete in disbelief. "You'll get blood all over me."
"You can buy new clothes, no problem. Nobody else can know about this – nobody – so you're elected."
"Damn!" Johnny complained. They were nearing the group of cattle and he didn't relish wrestling with the stupid, dirty animals. "I like the drugging and fucking DesirЋe Mitchell better," Johnny said. "She's the hottest, sweetest pussy I've ever fucked. I'd like to have her again."
Clete stopped, his eyes hard. "What are you talking about?"
Johnny grinned. "Yeah, before the dog came and got to her, she caught us planting the shit. To cover up for being there, we had to do something, so I had the guys hold her. I licked her cunt and then slipped it to her. Tightest, sweetest pussy I've ever had. Pretty pussy, too. Looks like a baby's cunt with butterscotch hair on it. She cried at first, but then she turned on and that little twat just clamped down on old Willy."
The drug peddler was getting so wrapped up in his memories that he didn't notice the change coming over Clete, but had he watched his companion closer, he would have seen the jealous rage growing, turning the whites of his eyes red and causing his powerful, weight-trained body to tremble. Johnny was still laughing when Clete moved so suddenly there was no time to defend himself, even if he had been strong enough to fight off the bull-like, iron-armed black man.
Clete's hand closed on Johnny's thick head of hair while the other hand, armed with the five-pronged claw tool, moved in a lightening-fast arc. The sharp steel prongs bit deep into Johnny's neck, tearing through flesh, blood vessels, and cartilage. As his blood sprayed out of the two carotid arteries, Johnny's face registered a look of horror and surprise, the mauled vital parts of his throat dangling down onto his shirt. Raging, Clete struck out again and again, and after Johnny fell, yet several times more.
"You raped my Dezzy, you son of a bitch! Son of a bitch!" Clete screamed over and over until the fury had passed and Johnny lay still and open-eyed in death.
Clete stepped back, regulating his breathing. Johnny had paid dearly for the assault on his beloved DesirЋe.
The sheriff looked around. No one left now to help him with the cows. But who was to care. Now Lobo had a human victim to answer for. Panic would set in and Clete thought about the reward. Twenty thousand? Make it fifty, at least.
Chuckling to himself, Clete Anderson went to work putting down some dog tracks and attaching a discreet amount of dog hair to Johnny's clothing. After what had happened to Nancy, everybody would just eat it up. What he had left here would be plenty evidence enough against Lobo for a serious bounty hunt. The thing was, Clete knew just how to catch the wild, raping dog. All he needed was something to attract the animal.
And he knew the perfect bait.
DesirЋe Denning. What was more important, the girl or the money?
The money.