Being tied up and whipped and fucked and having her tits raped with the longest cock she'd ever seen had a strange effect on Colleen. Being made to watch his beautiful sisters subjected to the most remarkable sexual degradation he could have conceived of had had the same effect on Jack. Their sexual appetites were honed to razor sharpness – and the only thing that could satisfy them was each other.
They fucked as furiously as rutting animals, their feet digging furrows in the soil. Coe used her arms and strong shapely legs to work her body rapidly up and down the rod of cock jutting from her brother's lap, her big boobs flying to the rhythm of her exertions. Jack drove his cock into her cunt with every ounce of strength in his body. His steel-hard cock probed the innermost depths of her succulent pussy while his head rolled aimlessly around.
"Oh, Jack!" his twin cried shrilly. "I feel it! I'm about to come! Come with me! Fill my pussy with your nice hot come!"
She slipped her arms around his neck and crushed her lips to his. Her tongue crept from her mouth. His came surging out to meet it, stabbing her mouth as powerfully as his cock was stabbing her pussy. She crushed her tits against his broad chest, thrilling to the feel of his rough shirt rubbing her throbbing nipples. Their salvias mingled in a tongue-twining embrace. Coe moved her ass so fast that a fine spray of pussy-juice was thrown from her cunt to mist their crotches. Then her pussy slammed shut around his driving cock and sucked load after load of come as they wrestled together in the hysteria of a shared climax.
As Jack fucked his sister's pussy to overflowing with jism, Jake felt a silken noose close around his cunt-piercing tongue. He grunted as a torrent of cuntjuice gushed from the gaping adolescent cunt. Betsy howled as if in torment. Her whole body tingled with the ecstasy emanating from her well eaten pussy.
The three of them, brother and sisters, gave themselves utterly to carnal delight, surrendering to the insistent tongue and the incestuous embrace of cunt around cock. Their young bodies pulsated with incomparable joy as they came in one great wave of sexual release, captive thought they were.
But deep inside, they realized their frenzied lustful delight would all too soon be replaced by a torment worse than any of them had ever known.
CHAPTER FOUR
A meadowlark sang placidly from a fencepost as Jeanette Mason drove the Jeep alongside the long low ranch house. At the back door, the family watchdog, an Irish, set or named Red, barked excitedly. Getting out and loading her arms with sacks of groceries, Jeanette wondered what was bothering him. Probably Coe or Betsy had brought home some poor injured animal – a squirrel or a fox or a bird with a broken wing – and the smell of it had upset the dog. Coe and Betsy were soft-hearted, especially where wild animals were concerned. Brother Jack was the same way, though he was reluctant to admit it.
Smiling, Jeanette walked up the gravel walkway to the back door. She was a lovely sight in the late morning sunlight -- tall and trim almost girlishly slim of waist and thigh. Yet there was nothing girlish about the swell of her tits, still firm and flawless despite her bearing three children. Her hair was held back by a blue bandanna. It was long hair of a deep, rich mahogany shade, darker and redder than the twins.
She thought about her offspring. She was young – just forty – yet she was fortunate in her children. They were intelligent, responsible, helpful. The family had its normal share of sibling dissent and difficulty, but after Jeanette's husband, John, had died, they had pulled together into an unbreakable unit. Their love had pulled them through hard times, and now their lives were comfortable and happy here in the peaceful mountains.
"Back, Red. Go on, don't be such a nuisance." Red backed off, wagging his great golden tail, his tongue lolling from his mouth. He seemed tense, as though upset by something, but relieved that the mistress of the house had arrived to deal with it.
"Oh, Red," she laughed, holding the screen open with a plushly padded hip while she unlocked the door. "What've they got in there, a coyote? I've never seen you this way."
The door opened. She walked into the kitchen and set the bag down on a counter. "Hello. Anybody home?"
There was no answer. She walked into the living room, smoothing back her bandanna. She stopped.
"Oh!"
Sitting in an easy chair with his feet propped on the sofa, Jake smiled through his beard and gestured easily with the shotgun in his right hand. "Howdy, ma'am," he said. "Why don't you just take a seat with the kids, over on the couch?"
Jeanette's knees turned to water. What was going on? Two armed strangers in her living room – and her three children, naked or half-naked and trussed like chickens. "Who are you?" she demanded.
Betsy and Coe sat side by side on the couch. Betsy's flannel shirt hung open, baring her pale pink-tipped tits. Coe was completely naked, and to her horror, Jeanette saw that her elder daughter's normally lovely tits were puffy and discolored, as though they'd been beaten. In a second she found out why they looked that way.
Without changing expression Jake lifted his other hand. A thick leather belt hung from it. He flicked his wrist. The leather strap struck like a snake at Betsy's vulnerable left tit. The girl jerked as though shot and shrieked as pain lanced through her tit.
"What are you doing?" Jeanette screamed.
"I told you to do something," Jake said easily, "and you didn't do it. I had to show you what happens when you don't do what I say. It's only fair, ain't it? To let you know what the rules are."
Jeanette looked from him to his skinny redheaded partner. "Damn you, you sons of bitches!" she heard her son say. She turned to look at him. He was over by the huge whitewashed adobe fireplace, bound hand and foot to a massive hand carved wooden chair.
Jake turned his eyes toward the youth. "Thought I told you what would happen if you didn't shut up, junior. Want baby sister to get her tit whipped again?"
Jack's face clouded over with rage, but he said nothing.
Jake's water blue eyes flicked back to Jeanette. She felt herself blushing as they traveled from her head to her feet. It was as if they stripped away her clothes – the man's work shirt that couldn't hide the lusciousness of her jugs, the jeans that made not effort to conceal the ripeness of her hips and ass – and left her naked and revealed to his lusting gaze. He liked what he saw, she knew.
"I got an idea," the other man said. He was perched nervously on the arm of another overstuffed chair. "Why don't we make her strip on down for us, like a strip-tease burlesque show?"
"That's a fine idea, Bob," Jake nodded. "What say, Mrs…"
"Mason," she said reluctantly. "Jeanette Mason."
"Well, Jeanette, I'm right pleased to know you. My name's Jake." He smirked at her lasciviously. "I figure we ought to start out on a first-name basis, considering bow well we're going to get to know each other. Why don't you shuck off that blouse now, Jeanette. But slow and easy… surprise us."
"Don't do it, Mom," Coe said, her voice low and sullen.
Jake's head didn't turn, but his aim was perfect. The belt lashed out and with a loud smack turned Betsy's other tit a glowing, painful pink to match the other one. Her nipples stood out stiffly, responding to the pain.
"Ohhhh…" the blonde girl moaned.
Jeanette felt her eyes fill with hot tears. She'd been a good mother, a capable one, and while she'd done her best to see that her children learned to stand on their own, she'd always tried to protect them. Now they were in a more dangerous situation than any she could have imagined, and she was powerless to help them.