The Life of a Hoosier Farm Girl Ch. 08

In Chapter 7 Chloe and Nancy are taken prisoner by Al, Mike and their gang. Nancy is bled and tortured while forced to pose as St. Sebastian, suspended in the air with her feet barely touching the bed, to fulfill a bizarre fetish. She almost dies, as did Billie Jean before her, but she and Chloe manage to escape. Nancy realizes there have been many victims before Billie Jean, Chloe, and herself, and probably all of them perished. They drugged the men with the men's own date rape drugs in order to make their escape. Unable to find their clothes, they took two of Al's T shirts and escaped, naked under the T shirts.

Caveat: There is no obvious category for this story. All the rest of the chapters, except Chapter 2 in group sex, and Chapter 7 in Nonconsent/Reluctance, have been in Exhibitionist and Voyeur. So I have place this chapter there. This chapter contains elements of lesbian sex, bisexuality, swapping, group sex, reluctant sex, interracial sex, incest, and rough sex. I hope you enjoy it.

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Chloe was right. Going to the police turned out to be pointless. For a while I was hopeful: seven of the St. Sebastian paintings matched descriptions of missing runaways and five more matched descriptions of missing persons. As far as I was concerned, this meant Alex and Al, probably in collusion with Mike, had tortured, raped, and murdered at least twelve women. I got lucky. I'm fairly sure I was destined to be yet another woman who disappeared to the bottom of the East River.

I wondered why they left Billie Jean, naked and bleeding, curled up in an alley on the Upper East Side? That was not their modus operandi. I made a mental note to ask Billie Jean when I saw her, if she ever recovered to the point where she could speak.

Even though I could not afford it, I moved to a doorman building. I kept where I lived top secret, and I took different routes home after work. I was careful, lest Mike, Alex, Adolphus, or one of their other bad hombres decided to pursue and torture me again. I knew if they got me a second time, it was all over. They would rape me again (why not?) and then they would kill me.

Al was a super-rich and politically powerful man. I was ashamed and disgusted that he knew me carnally. My one vulnerability to remaining hidden was that I worked in a hospital; Al or any of Mike, Alex, Harry, Adam or another one of Al's minions could find me there. Maybe it would have been smart to flip burgers at a Burger King someplace in deep Queens where they would never find me, but dammit, I was a nurse, and I intended to stay one!

I was happy the rest of the day. I was thinking about Marcia and her husband Aaron having watched us have sex. They lived in the apartment building facing ours, and we had somehow developed an unspoken but reciprocal exhibitionist/voyeur relationship. It was nice to put a name and a face to one of our voyeurs. I told Ray about it that evening. I was rewarded with a spectacular Zachary "rough and ready" Taylor style fuck. It was wonderful.

I turned out to be wrong about Marcia being slow, due to caution. Quite quickly she invited Ray and me over to her home for dinner, with her husband Aaron. She cooked an amazing vegetarian meal (all organic), and she served it with copious amounts of a delicious red wine: a California pinot noir.

Ironically, I was supposed to eat lots of red meat, to help me to continue to regenerate all of my hemoglobin. But one meal more or less was no big deal. I could have steak and eggs for breakfast the next morning.

Marcia had told me to bring over my bra collection, and after dinner Aaron and she both asked to see them. I showed them to her, explaining that Ray had surprised me with some of them as gifts.

"I guess they were really gifts for Ray himself," Marcia said, giggling.

Ray smiled, and said, "You would know they were, if you saw her in them. I gave her matching panties, too."

"That's a great idea for Nancy to model them," Marcia said, de. liberately misinterpreting a little what Ray had said "Nancy, would you be a doll, and please model them for us?"

I smiled and shook my head. "I'd be embarrassed," I said. I had just met these people, and some of the bras were much too revealing for me to model. Fortunately, Marcia dropped the subject. She continued however to ply us with booze, and around 10pm we were all drunk. Aaron then raised the subject again, saying, "You know, Nancy, you are a beautiful young woman. It would be a treat to see you model the pink bra and panties set, you know?"

He had called me young, I guess, because Marcia was around 40 and he was probably a few years older than she was. I was 28. The problem was not that I was "young," but that Marcia joined in and then, to my surprise, so did Ray. He liked showing me off. I declined, but the pressure on me was relentless.

Finally, Aaron had an idea. To make it more palatable, Marcia would model her bra and panties sets at the same time. I still said no, but they kept the pressure on right up through 10:30, a good half hour. Drunk and beaten down, I finally caved. I took the pink set, and went into their bedroom to change. Marcia came in with me.

The first thing I noticed was the amazing view they had of our apartment window. They were a couple of floors higher, which gave them a great angle to see everything. They had a view of our entire bedroom, right up to the far wall. They could see everything we did in there if our lights were on.

The next thing I noticed was a picture of a child. Marcia saw me looking at it. "That's Victoria, our baby girl. She was 5 years old in that picture. Now she is a full 19 years old."

"That's a nice name, Victoria" I commented idly.

"Yes. She's named after the car she was conceived in, a 1992 Ford Crown Victoria. I was only 18, and not on birth control. Or at least that's what Victoria thinks. Reality is more complicated."

"How so?" I asked. Her remarks were intriguing.

"Well, Victoria thinks Aaron is her father, and the back seat of the Crown Vic served as our conjugal bed. The truth is seedier."

"Pray tell," I said.

"Well, Aaron could be the father, but it's far more likely that it's one of two other men," Marcia said. I was happy; another slut! We could have some slut solidarity.

But it was not what I thought, as Marcia continued, "Yes, her father is most likely either my father, or my brother. There's no way for me to know for sure. They enjoyed me a lot 9 months before her birth. Not at the same time, of course. It began with my brother. I guess it's a classic story."

"Tell me about it," I said, thinking of my own bout with incest.

"Well, I was 18, and my brother was two years older. It was a hot summer day, and we were hiking in the woods. We found a small lake hidden away, and we decided to go skinny dipping. My brother had never seen me naked before, and well, his body reacted as a young man's will."

"We were both so embarrassed. I had never seen a boy's erection before, and I just stared, somewhat in awe. He was not as innocent as I was, and he asked me if I wanted to touch it. I said `yes' and you can imagine where it went from there."

I said, "Yes, I certainly can. How many times did you do it right there at the lake?"

"Oh, Nancy honey, you really do understand, don't you! We did it three times. I wanted more, but as you know boys have limits. But we were discovered," Marcia said.

"Discovered? How awful. You must have been horrified!" I said, in my most sympathetic voice.

"No, I was now in heat. A friend of my brother happened by as we were doing it for the third time. When my brother could not do me a fourth time, well, I gave myself to his friend. Then we all three went home and got very drunk, and well, they took turns," she finished, blushing.

"The next night, I got drunk again and decided to climb into my brother's bed. But I was so drunk I went into the wrong room, and climbed into my father's bed. Thinking he was my brother, I was naked. I closed my eyes and gave him a blow job, only gradually realizing it was not my brother. Their cocks are quite similar. I tried to get away when I realized I was blowing my Dad, but it was too late. He pushed me onto my back and he took me."

"He is a good fuck; much better than my brother, so after that, well, I was often in his bed. That's my story about my little Victoria. It could be my brother, his friend, or my Dad. Most likely, though, it's not Aaron."

"Aaron entered the picture, and entered me, in the back seat of the Crown Vic, almost two months later," Marcia finished.

"So if Aaron is the father, she would have been born two months premature," I concluded.

"Right. She was a small baby, and she could have been premature, but I had morning sickness and knew I was pregnant before my first time with Aaron. That's why I seduced Aaron that night in his 6-year-old car. It was my brother's idea. It all worked, too."

"Aaron thought he was the father, and he made an honest woman out of me. We got married when I was six months pregnant. For the first ten years of Victoria's life he continued to believe he was her father. That was before my brother visited one time, and we all got drunk. Well, one thing led to another and...well, you know."

I didn't know. I never knew anyone who engaged in incest, or at least I didn't think I did, except of course for myself. There was the one time once with my father, and once or twice (well, actually quite a bit) with my brother, but I was on the pill. No babies were involved. Marcia was shockingly open with me; it was weird, because I was almost a stranger. I only found out later why she was telling me all this, when her daughter Victoria came home with her date Duane in tow.

I took off my clothes in front of Marcia to change into my bra and panties, and I could tell that the sight of me naked was arousing her. I don't need this, I thought. Then she did the same, and I got to see her 40-year-old body. It was a great body, and damn if I didn't also feel some arousal, just looking at her.

We went out to the living room and modeled our underwear for the two men. They sent us back to model another set. Marcia and I ogled each other as we changed. This underwear set was more revealing, and very little of me was covered. Aaron suggested we women take sexy poses, as if we were modeling for Adam and Eve, or some other lingerie outfit that runs to the risqué. We did.

As I was assuming the position I would take for someone to fuck me rear entry, bending over and sticking out my bum, in walked Victoria and Duane. I died of embarrassment, but Victoria, Duane, Marcia (also in highly skimpy lingerie) handled it with aplomb, as if they had walked in on the four of us playing cards or something.

Aaron told Victoria to go model some underwear too, and she went to her room, emerging soon after in a bright red strapless bra with matching panties. Marcia moved towards Ray, who started to fondle her boobs, at her suggestion. Victoria moved in on her father, who quickly removed her panties and began to eat her out. Like mother, like daughter, I thought. That left Duane, Victoria's boyfriend, who looked hungrily at me.

Marcia said, "Duane usually gets me, when Victoria and her father go at it. Maybe tonight he can have you? He is an excellent fuck."

That was a memorable evening. Duane was the first, and so far, the only black man I ever had sex with. When he was done with me, the men rotated the women, with Ray taking on Victoria, Duane going right over to Marcia and roughly manhandling her, and Aaron coming after me.

When Duane came over to me I was scared. He was a man, just like any other, probably around 25 and a few years younger than me, and older than Victoria. I was scared for several reasons: First, was I really going to fuck another man in front of Ray? Up to that point, I had been faithful to Ray.

Second, were Ray and I really going to participate in group sex? We had never done anything like this before. There was no question it would change our relationship. But the ship of monogamy was already sailing away: Ray and Victoria were both now naked, kissing and with their hands all over each other. They were probably only minutes away from doing the nasty.

Third, and I confess this with shame, but I was scared to have sex with a black man. Nobody I knew had ever indulged in interracial sex in southern Indiana. It was too taboo, too frowned upon.

It was not that long ago in southern Indiana that Black men were lynched if it was suspected that they had had sex with a white woman. It was irrelevant if the sex was consensual. Lynch mobs did not worry about such fine details. I had irrational fear based on the taboos I had grown up with.

So, I must have looked terrified as Duane approached me. I was in fact terrified. But the flip side of this fear of the taboo is the sexual turn-on of violating the taboo. As I worried about the ramifications of possibly having sex with Duane, my body reacted with enthusiastic anticipation. Duane was still three feet away from me and my pussy was nice and wet.

Duane approached me and gently kissed me. I let him kiss me, but I did not kiss back. He fondled my bra-covered boobs, and I let him, but I did not react. He then moved his hands and fondled my panty-covered ass, and again I let him, and again I did not react. I was a cold fish, frozen in terror. I was a cold fish, but I was also almost naked, and dressed in hyper sexy lingerie.

Duane leaned into me and whispered in my ear. He said, "Your fear is a turn on for me. I love you white bitches who are afraid to fuck a Black man. Get ready for me, bitch."

Nobody had ever spoken to me like that. Nobody had ever called me a bitch to my face. He knew my fear was based on some societal racism I had absorbed, and he was calling me on it. I slapped him.

Startled, Duane backed away. "Sorry, m'am," he said, and he turned around, his back to me, and he walked away. As he retreated, he was dropping clothing, undressing himself, heading over to Victoria who was now being royally fucked by my lover Ray. I understood his attitude: 'Who needs this? I'll fuck my girlfriend.'

As I saw Ray and Victoria fucking, I lost it. I flipped. In a spasm of jealously I grabbed Duane's arm, pulled him around and kissed him passionately. I held him close, as strongly as I could, as I pried open his mouth and stuck my tongue in it. I was of course wearing only my matching bra and panties, a particularly skimpy set. Duane's rough black hands went all over my snow-white back.

Duane's hands found my panties and slipped inside them, caressing my bare ass. One hand continued to caress my ass, as the other moved north to unhook my bra. Duane stepped back, removed my bra, and admired the view. "You are one fine woman, Nancy," he said.

He moved back in, kissed me passionately, and pushed my panties down to my ankles. "Ah, I see you are a true blonde," he said, looking straight at my lightly trimmed bush. He smiled. "I like blondes."

Duane was still wearing his briefs, and I removed them, seeing a Black man's cock in the flesh for the first time. I had seen plenty on porn videos, but obviously seeing one in the flesh was qualitatively different. I reached down and cupped his balls, and then I stroked his cock with my hand. Duane smiled, and he took my left boob in his mouth.

"Do you want to taste it, baby?" he said. I noticed I was no longer a bitch.

"No, Duane. You know what I want," I said.

Duane smiled again, and he picked me up and then gently, lovingly even, placed me down on the plush rug. "I guess I do," he said, as he spread my legs. He stuck a finger in and I moaned. "The water's just right," he said, "I think I'll go in for a dip."

I could not believe I was going to fuck a man who spoke like that, but I knew I was. I barely got that thought finished in my head when I felt the tip of his cock probing my entry. Jesus, he was coming in. Suddenly, Duane was on top of me, plunging his cock in and out of me repeatedly. I saw his dark Black skin resting on my snow-white stomach and boobs, and just the realization of what was happening made me cum.

"My, you are a hot lady," Duane said. He upped the ante, no longer being gentle and sweet, but pulling almost all the way out and then plunging in as deep as he could go, right up to his balls. I gasped.

"Oh my," I managed to say as he fucked me, each downward thrust touching my clit and sending little bolts of electric pleasure through my body. I was shaking in convulsions, or so it seemed.

I kept staring at our two bodies meshed together: his black, mine white. Each time I would see it, I would have another mini orgasm. I was practically having them continuously, as Duane mercilessly pumped in and out of me with all the strength his muscular, broad shouldered body could muster. And that was a lot of strength.

I tore myself away from looking at our own bodies in order to look around us. Aaron and his daughter Victoria had finished, and Ray and Marcia had finished. All of them had satisfied, sated looks on their faces as they looked at Duane and me going at it. Duane and I were putting on a show for them. This was a live sex show, starring yours truly.

Putting aside the whole black/white thing, this was different than performing sex in our bedroom wondering if voyeurs were watching. This was up front and personal. I did not have the excuse that "it's the meds" this time. This was me, drunk and slutty, performing interracial sex in front of an audience of four, as well as a picture window that faced our own apartment building.

As I thought this, I was overwhelmed. It came out of nowhere, rising up inside me like a rocket ship. No slow buildup this time. No sir. It hit me suddenly, like a ton of bricks, and I screamed. I shook and my body vibrated. My pelvis rose up off the ground as I had a huge, gigantic orgasm. I was floating in endorphins. Wow, I thought.

Duane was not through with me however. He moved me up onto all fours, and he entered me from behind. I love that position; it allowed his cock to go deeper inside me. He entered me slowly; I realized he was performing for Victoria and Marcia, trying to make them jealous. He probably planned next to fuck each of them. Probably too his plan was working. I saw their faces, and they did indeed look jealous. Both of them.

We were now putting on a show. I played the part, and I began to moan. Sometimes I would throw in words, like, "Yes. Right there. Oh my God, yes!" I hammed it up, but truth be told I was not really acting. This was, as Marcia had foreseen, a great fuck.

He pulled out at the last minute, and playing the slut for the audience, I snapped my head around and opened my mouth barely in time to catch the first two ropes of cum. The third hit my chin. This was his doing, not mine, because my eyes were closed.

We both collapsed, and our audience of four gave us a nice ovation.

Next was Marcia's husband Aaron. Aaron was the first man in my life I fucked just to be polite. To be honest, this entire scene was just too bizarre for me, and I was freaking out to the point where I did not find it erotic. The same cannot be said for Marcia nor Victoria. And every man of course was having a great time.

I did not enjoy seeing Ray fuck a mother and daughter team right in front of me. In return, he got to see me being nailed by two men. It's not clear which is worse for a relationship. Both can be bad.

When we finally staggered back home, we stayed up late discussing what happened. Ray knew about my slutty past, and he had seen the Clovis videos of me as 'Sexy Nancy: The Slut of Brown County.' He was surprisingly fine about what had happened. He was fine with having his face rubbed into the fact that he was involved with a slut. He had enjoyed it.