Eye of the Beholder



  Not thirty feet from the deserted highway, the young girl kneels submissively in the dry scrubland, regretting for ever and a day that she had failed to heed her momma’s advice,  “Never accept a lift from strangers honey – but never!” Just a few yards distant, a prairie dog, perhaps disturbed in its contemplations, eyes the threesome to the left of its burrow and having then no interest in proceedings, darts back into the safety of its tunneled conclave.


     There is but a light breeze in evidence whose gentility offers the girl the least assistance. No cries will be borne on the wind this night. The looming darkness befriends only the girl’s captors, leading one to assume that Nature even has turned its back on the three-act tragedy about to be played out in its midst.


     The older man eyeing his prey, circles her as if assessing his options. The youth, slim and dressed also in tattered jeans and checkered shirt, stands across from the girl, near a patch of tumbleweed, his eyes quite obviously taking in the gentle convexity of her developing breasts and the curves of her rear-end, subtly delineated as they are in the fading light. He is able to detect the outline of the girl’s underwear even, as she kneels there shivering, both hands extended towards the older man as if in supplication.  


     He has often watched through the keyhole of the master bedroom at home as his father, having dragged his younger sister across his knee, paddles her backside unmercifully, pausing simply to tug her dress up and her panties down, before  resuming his bruising work on her bare bottom. Becky would scream at first but ultimately dissolve into heaving sobs as the inevitability of her predicament suppressed all hopes of salvation.


     He wonders if his father might indulge those corporal cravings later with the terrified girl kneeling in front of him?


     Crouching beside his teenage captive, the man extends a gnarled hand and gropes the girl’s tremulous right breast.


   “Well lookee here boy,” he growls in the direction of his son, “Thisn’s almost ripe fer the pickin’”


    Gasping with shame and embarrassment, she pushes the man’s hand away, only to be rewarded with a vicious backhander that sends her sprawling in the dust. Off-balance and uncoordinated momentarily, her legs splay apart, delivering her voyeur an acutely indecent view of those plain white cotton panties. The upskirt visuals are not lost on the big man who chuckles at the girl’s predicament before crudely delving between her legs and taking delight in making illicit contact with the front of her knickers. The curved ingress and the smoothness beneath his fingers excites him. He thinks of Becky and how she might look, thus disheveled and prostrate before him. His son takes-in the decadent scene but a couple of arms-lengths away.

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   His father frightens him.


     Wriggling clear of her tormentor, the girl tugs the hem of her dress down, limiting the arousal factor and sits there breathing heavily, tears now trickling down both cheeks. Remorse is not a trait the older man has ever exhibited and taking a step towards her, he is able to see now quite clearly the curves of her young breasts as she hugs her knees almost in defiance of his unspoken intent. Aware that her cleavage, though still a gentle work-in-progress, is prominently displayed to the grinning degenerate leaning over her, she frees up her right hand to clasp the top of her dress to her chest. It is as fruitless a gesture as it is one borne of desperation.


   “Please don’t hurt me. ” she whimpers. As well may she have asked for a latte coffee with extra cream, given the likelihood of her plea falling on compassionate ears.


   Wrenching her arm aside as if it were an annoying twig, the man shoves his hand down her top, encircling the small breast and feeling the rush attendant on such under-age sexual fumbling. The girl cries-out in shocked surprise, her disbelieving mouth dropping open as she stares downwards, following the hand as it moves to her right bra cup roughly manipulating her small nipple. She winces as the pressure increases on the teat, aware inherently that resistance is useless at this juncture.


   “Nuthin’ quite like a pair of sweet young titties son,” the ogre all but drools in the boy’s direction. “Come get a handful,” he grins lewdly, both hands rifling now the contents of the girl’s skimpy crossover. The boy makes no move, almost rendered immobile by the unfolding scene. The man shrugs and turns his attention back to the girl’s chest.




     Without warning, he pushes her backwards and taking a firm hold of the halter around her upper chest, rips the material with such savagery, the dress tears all the way to her waist. Fully visible in the now clear moonlight, her barely-covered breasts heave with distress, bra straps loosely clinging to her arms. Further down, her slim hips and belly are exposed in all their youthful vulnerability. The waistband of the girl’s panties becomes the focal point for her attacker’s lustful contemplation.


    “Ain’t no point lookin’ like Raggedy Ann sweetness,” he drawls, seizing hold of the last vestiges of her dress which he then strips away in seconds, heedless of her cries for him to stop.

She lies there in miserable solitude, aware only too well of the effect her near-naked body must inevitably induce in her male captors. Indeed, watching the girl’s futile attempts to cover her bra and crotch area with those sadly undersize hands and arms, has already set in motion physiological changes in the boy’s procreational hardware. She can already see plainly the sexual metamorphisis underway beneath the ogre’s shabby Levis.


     The man produces a hunting knife that glints in the moonlight. The boy swallows hard and stares at his father. This was something way outside the plan. Not for the first time – he feels a rising unease. Trembling with unutterable fear she stares wide-eyed as the blade of the knife descends, hastily slicing through the material holding the front of her bra together.

    “What’s the problem girlie?” he guffaws “Figured I was gonna cut ya?” he slips the knife back into his belt.


    “No way Jose,” he grins, “Wouldn’t wanna hurt a cute little teen queen like you sweets.

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   Way too precious to hurt – leastways with a knife. ”

    Smirking at his own double entendre, he reaches down and plucks away the shredded bra. She lays there shivering beneath the cool night sky, clad now in just her panties, hands barely covering her exposed breasts.


     Observing the knife re-sheathed, the boy lets out a sigh of relief.


    Expecting the worst as the big man kneels beside her, she is unprepared for what follows. In one movement he seizes her arm and pulls her half upright. Still trying to cover her breasts, she finds herself suddenly prostrate across the man’s knee – face down and helpless. The huge arm around her waist restricts all movement.


    “Even a pretty little thing like you needs a whuppin’ once in a while girlie,” he mutters, delivering a hard smack to her upturned bottom. She cannot avoid a cry of pain and surprise. The second blow ripples the soft flesh. Even at the distance he is, the boy can see her taut little rear-end recoil from the assault. The next spank echoes across the highway but is heard by no more than the prairie dog and its immediate family. The man’s eyed are glued to the young girl’s panties. How like Becky she is!  Those same damnably sexy little hips, curvy bottom and who knows what else skulking away there between her legs?  Becky’s secrets had yet to be enjoyed to the max but tonight he would know true solace.

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   He raises his hand a fourth time.


     Seeing the girl’s breasts jiggling free - pretty much in the dust, as she vainly uses her hands to try shielding her bottom from the punishing blows, fully re-boots the boy’s chemical resurgence. The swollen rod between his legs is almost painful.


     Crying hysterically, the girl pleads for a cessation to the beating. Were she to realize this was merely supplementing his enjoyment of the situation she might try another tack. Frenzied now, the man takes a hold of her waistband and tugs the panties lower. Leaving them at half-mast temporarily, he stares at her partially exposed bottom, the color of those gentle contours anything but a whiter shade of pale.


     Reaching beneath her arm he takes a rough hold of either breast, squeezing and rubbing the girl’s nipples, unfettered lust feeding off the sensation. His right hand smooths its way back and forth across her bottom, fingers inching their way along that sexiest of clefts before disappearing beneath her panties en route to the shadowlands. He has forgotten his son across the way, all that matters is this one hundred pounds of ultimately desirable female flesh splayed across his lap. He has to see her naked. Hooking then, his fingers inside the already lowered waistband, he tugs the young girl’s one remaining bastion of modesty down her legs and past her ankles, propelling the handful of cotton just an arm’s length from where his son squats alongside the tall cactus, watching proceedings almost nonchalantly.

     Totally nude before her kidnappers, the girl’s humiliation is complete. A further hard spank elicits a cry of pain. She makes no attempt to cover her bottom or breasts now, her arms simply resting in the dirt as she sobs aloud her resigned acceptance of the punishment at hand.

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    Eyes riveted on the glowing rear of his prey, the man spreads the girl’s legs, giving his impetuous fingers access to the Holy Grail of illicit pleasures. His middle finger travelling ever south, discovers a cache of soft downy hair that even six months ago had yet to make its debut. Further inland, the natural curvature of nature’s best loved secret, leads that same finger to moist lips as soft as petals. With less finesse than a jack-rabbit on heat, the man pushes inwards with committed vigor.


    “Don’t…please don’t,” she cries, “That hurts…. Let me go please – I promise I won’t tell anyone.



     Clemency is not an option on the menu this night.


     Beginning now to push their uninvited way into her vaginal ante-chamber, the man’s fingers begin to penetrate her faster and deeper. Sobbing in real-time pain, she wriggles about on his lap, an action the ogre mistakes for complicit pleasure. She barely notices her breasts being groped concurrently, which could not be said for the youth nearby who transfixed by the girl’s aggravated sexual degradation at the hands of his father, is whacking himself off with undiluted zeal.  


    Past the point of being in even vague control of his emotions, the man sends the naked girl sprawling in the dust and kneeling before her, hastily unzips his jeans. Lying on her back, the girl not only catches this worrying turn of events, she also is privy to that which has disengaged itself from the mother-ship. Unfamiliar with penis-size per se, all she knows for sure is that the man’s “thing” is huge and logically nothing that size could possibly fit into the tight little receptacle she possesses between her own legs and which the man is now obviously staring at with what one might term bemused interest. Swiftly she closes up her thighs.


    “Ain’t gonna do ya much good honey,” the man leers, crouching in front of her now in the gentle moonlight.

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   Despite her struggles, he forces her pale limbs apart. Unable to defer the inevitable, the girl  stares with uncomprehending shock as, working his way between her legs, the ogre pilots his nuclear warhead towards her fragile-looking vaginal gateway.


    Sadly, the girl’s initial assessment was ball-park accurate. A square peg never did fit in a round hole and a nine-inch penis of abnormally thick girth does not exactly dove-tail with a slim-line pussy of uncompromisingly virginal status. Even as her cries rent the airwaves just off Interstate 76, the younger of her two captors is suddenly wracked with guilt. Neither of the two girls they had picked up before had screamed like this. He gets to his feet and takes a step towards the moving violation.

     Even at that distance he can see the girl’s blood trickling down the inside of her thigh. His father is a man possessed, thrusting into that helpless body even as she whimpers and begs for him to stop. Quite obviously approaching his own finality, the man tries to kiss his victim, who by averting her mouth at the last moment, infuriates the copulating demon topside. He responds with a snarl and savage blow to her left cheek that almost renders her senseless.


    “Fucking little slut,” he roars. “You’ll remember this night girlie – I’ll see to it. ”


    Abusing her breasts so severely now she begins moaning with pain, he thrusts ever harder into her. The girl lies there beneath him, almost inert.

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    “Dad, that’s enough,” the boy yells out. “You’re hurting her badly. ” His own erection has fully subsided.


   “You’ll keep your mouth shut boy if you know what’s good for you,” the aggressor spits-out in the direction of the lad, incensed by what he regards as insubordination amongst the ranks. He begins to rape the girl even more violently, biting her nipples in the process, forcing her legs even wider. The girl’s screams have diminished to little more than enforced grunts as her body is crushed beneath the man’s overpowering weight. Her arms remain above her head, jerking rhythmically in time to the man’s violent penetrative incursions.


    Taking a step nearer, the boy is horrified to see the bruising coming out now in her right cheek. The blood seeping out of her is considerable. Her expression - heartbreaking in the extreme. Right then with a roar of pleasured extravagance, the man floods her internally with his unwanted semen.


   “Little cunt,” he mumbles almost incoherently. “Gonna give ya something to really remember the evening by. ” So saying, he begins to turn the abused girl over on to her stomach. There is time however for the boy to catch a glimpse of his father’s semen leaking profusely from her swollen and bloody vagina.

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   He begins to maneuver the moaning girl on to all fours, his intentions clear enough to any on-looker. Horrified even at this late stage for the girl’s well-being, he tries to pull his father away but is rewarded by a punch to his mid-section that sends him sprawling in agony.


     When the pain subsides and he is able to focus normally, the sight that meets his gaze appalls him. The girl is kneeling there some eight feet away, down on her forearms, her bottom elevated indecently. She is screaming out for help as the man, gripping her tightly around the waist, sodomises her without mercy. It is not something the boy can live with.


    The girl cannot believe the agony. She is being torn apart and cauterized by a white-hot metal pipe in an area that no young girl can possibly conceive might ever be at risk in normal society. The rape was unspeakably painful and aside even from the facial and chest bruising, breathing itself  has now become a hard-fought campaign. She braces herself for the next thrust – but none comes.


   She hears a dull thud and an exhalation much like “Uggghh. ” Something feels like it’s dripping momentarily on her bottom and back of her thigh. More relevantly, the instrument of torture is withdrawn from her back passage just seconds before the man topples over alongside her. The majority of his forehead is now hanging from his scalp like a half-eaten pizza. She turns around painfully and glances behind her.

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   The boy is still holding the huge rock in both hands.


  “I’m so sorry Miss,” he whispers, “So sorry!”……


   Somewhere in the foothills, a coyote howls.

(c) Peter_Pan 2007

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