Loretta Lariat: Peace Officer

"Wait! Stop! Don't do that! What about the ... the bargain we made?"

"Hell, it ain't worthwhile. You ain't gonna do this any good. You wouldn't even know how, I wager. You're just wasting our time, marshal. Rather stick with the original arrangement. See you get the licking you deserve. I know that'll pay off properly."

"No, let me do this! Let me try! I'll do it good! I promise! And ... I admit I was trespassing, all right? Does that satisfy you?"

Said the other brother: "Hey now. Hold on. Let's not be hasty. We may as well let her give it a try, at least. Just for a minute or two."

"Yes! Listen to him!" Loretta cried, "Give me a chance!"

He pretended to think it over. "Ask nicely, first. You pissed me off. Now you wanna change my mind again, you gotta ask me real nice."

"Please. Please let me do it. Let me just ... just get it over with."

"Do what? Say it plain, Loretta. I know you think it's disgusting. But you were beggin' us before. I wanna hear you beg again. Beg to do this disgusting sinful act for us. Do it now, and say it proper, and make it sound good, or else you go right back over the nag."

It was hardest thing she ever did. Even harder than when she made this ghastly offer in the first place. She'd been so desperate then, she'd said it without thinking. Now, kneeling for them, this time it was so much harder to force out the dreadful shameful words. To talk like a filthy sinful whore. But she had no choice. She was powerless.

"Please, I beg you, let me ... let me s-u-uck ... let me suck on your ... on your ... on your cock. I promise I'll ... suck ... on it good. As long as you want. Until you ... until you sp-spend. If you promise not to let Angie beat me again. If you promise to set me free. I'll ... suck on your cock good to make it spend."

"That's good, Loretta. You said that real good."

"She sure did, brother. I love the way she blushes. And how she kept stu-stuttering. So adorable."

"Have you sucked a lot of cocks, Loretta Lariat?"

"No, I never have."

"I ain't sure I believe that, after what you said before. How did you know how to say it that way, if you've never done this?"

"I swear I've never done it but I saw a whore doing it once, in the livery in town." And then also she'd witnessed Angie doing it for Captain Shrike, if only for a moment and at a considerable distance, but it would probably not be smart to mention that fact to the brothers now. "They came in the stables while I was rubbing down my horse. It happened in the stall across from mine."

"Did they know you were watching?"

"I don't know. They were both very inebriated. I couldn't decide what to do. I was only half done with the horse—I couldn't leave her like that. I tried to ignore the two but they made a lot of noise together. It was difficult. But that's how I learned how to talk like I expected you wanted, and how to do this thing. To make you ... make your cock spend."

"My word! Just listenin' to her talk like that is almost enough to make me shoot in my durn trousers!"

"You hear that, Loretta? If yer lucky, you might only have to do this for me. Here you go now."

It wasn't as big as she expected, but it was uglier and the smell was terrible. And worse, he wouldn't let her keep her eyes closed. "Oh no. You keep lookin' at me, Marshal. Look right up here at me."

It was so disgusting. So hard to do. Both things. Taking it in her mouth. Gazing up into his mocking eyes. It made her so ashamed.

"Suck it harder. Much harder. Take a breath and try again. Gotta take it deeper, to do it properly."

She followed his instructions, best as she could, though it made her whimper and choke.

"Good girl. You remember back to the day you arrested us? You were so high and mighty. Not anymore, huh?"

Answering provided an excuse to pause. "I was only doing my duty. As an officer of the law."

With a laugh, he slapped her cheeks with his cock and then stuffed it back into her mouth, shoving it in deeper than before. >> Fwack! -- "Ahhnn!" >> Fwick! -- "Uhhrr! Uhhnnn—nnuhn—nummrruuhhmm ...

"Come on now, be honest with yourself. Don't pretend you weren't proud of yourself that day. Heck, you had every right to be. Taking us both in all by yerself, and so easy, so quick. Looped yer lasso 'round us both easy as pie, livin' up to yer nickname. And lookin' so lovely and radiant as you did it. I hated you so much. Not really for arrestin' me, though. I hated how beautiful you were. Struttin' down the street, cock of the hoop, yer face as shiny as yer tin star, or even shinier, as you towed us along like lowly beasts. You looked down your nose at me like I was dirt, and maybe you were right to do that, because maybe I really am. You loathed the sight of me, but you still looked like an angel to me. It made me burn inside. Did you know that? I bet you did. Didja enjoy making me burn? Betcha did. And now look at yerself, Marshal. Now it's you that's roped like a beast, isn't it? Nice and tight. Suckin' my outlaw cock on yer knees to me. Feels good, Loretta Lariat. Feels real good. Which of us is dirt now? Well, maybe I still am. Always will be, I expect. But yer down here all tied up butt nekkid in the dirt with me, ain'tcha? How's it feel, Marshal? How does it taste?"

She wished he would stop calling her that. She was no marshal. No more. Never again.

5.

Half an hour later ... Half an hour later that felt like a hundred years ...

Loretta lay panting, curled on her side in the grass. The brothers, meanwhile, because it was so boiling hot here, despite the shade in this little patch of woods, had both taken off their shirts to rinse themselves down with water from their canteens. "God damn," one remarked, "I'm sweatin' like a field hand."

"You and me both, brother. Whewee!"

"She durn near made me pass out. Durn near."

"Looks like she's about passed out herself, don't it?"

They were standing right above her, but it felt like they were miles away, on top of a cloudy mountain. She was in a daze. She felt muddled inside. Not just in her mind, but inside her belly, and in other places deeper down. A churning, surging sensation—like breakers pounding a beach, inside her.

It had been a very strange experience, the thing she had just done. The things they had done to her in return ... She had known it would be hard, and scary, and disgusting. It had been all those things, though it never became quite as bad in any of those respects as she had thought it would. What she had not been at all prepared for was how strange it became. She had thought she understood the world. At least as well as anyone could. Now she felt she didn't understand anything at all. Not a single part of it.

The whole time she had kept wondering if husbands made their lawful wives do this for them with their mouths, or if only unfortunate whores had to do it, because they were whores. She couldn't get the question off her mind ... and she had kept trying to figure out who she could ask. Someone who wouldn't take offense at the question, and at the same time could give her accurate information. But she couldn't think of any single person she could trust that much for either part of it. Every one she thought of either wouldn't tell her or wouldn't know what they were talking about any better than she did.

And the longer it went on, the longer she kept sucking—listening to all the funny slobbering sounds her mouth made, as she worked, and the gasps and grunts of delight from the man she was working on—she had begun to feel a burning sensation in her privates. A kind of cramp. But it didn't hurt. It tickled inside, instead. She couldn't control the feeling or ignore it. Nothing was touching her there—so what was causing the feeling? It had to be what she was doing—but how was it affecting her down there, inside her? Everything she was doing, she was doing with just her mouth. And she was hating every second of it. This was the ultimate humiliation—except no, it was better than being whipped, in front of an audience. Much better than that, which was the whole reason she was doing this—but it was still bad. Yet that badness itself somehow started to make her burn and cramp and tickle inside. Why? Why, in God's name? It didn't make sense!

And then when she finally finished with the first brother—and the sticky fluid he squirted out on her chin and on her tits was like white paint—before the second brother made her start on him, he told her to stand up, while he crouched down in front of her, instead. "I wanna check on somethin' down here," he announced, and then he started prodding at her privates with his fingers.

"What are you doing?" she had exclaimed, "This wasn't part of the deal. Wait. Don't! Gahhuuhh!" He had pushed two of his fingers all the way inside of her, up to the second knuckle. It didn't hurt her, though. It was horrible to be violated like that—but it didn't hurt like she would have predicted.

"Yep. Good 'n' greasy. It's gettin' to you. The atmosphere. But this hussy's no virgin, brother."

"I am! I swear! I've always been chaste! I've been a good girl all my life!"

"Like hell you have."

"Now, now. She's probably tellin' the truth, even if she ain't plugged in there no more. You've seen the way she rides her horses. Same thing happened to Angie, remember?"

"I s'pose you're right."

"Take your fingers out! Take your fingers out of me! Please! This wasn't part of the deal."

"Just a minute. I'm still checkin' somethin'." And he continued to rub her inside. He rubbed the little bump at the top—the one she liked to fiddle with sometimes, when she was taking a bath, or by herself in the swimming hole ... But she'd never let herself rub it as hard as he was doing then. She was afraid he would hurt it, sensitive as she knew it to be—but he hadn't. It only swelled and twitched, pressing back against his fingertip. So humiliating. "Does that tickle? I bet that tickles in there, don't it?" It had—oh God, it certainly had.

"Stop it! Why are you—Stop! It hurts! You're hurting me! It hurts!"

He hadn't believed her. "No it don't, Marshal," he'd said, speeding up the motion. "See?"

"It's—it's gross! It feels nasty!"

They had both guffawed at that. "Oh stop! Please! Ohhuuhooh! What do you want?" She'd been so afraid it would make her have to pee. Was that what he wanted? Was that what he'd been trying to do? She lifted up on her tiptoes as high as she could stretch, but it did no good, there was no evading him. He jerked his wrist, pressing higher and harder. It made her tits bounce and wobble, droplets of sweat flying off them—her whole entire nude body was bouncing and wobbling, in fact, impaled on his torturous wriggling fingers, compelled to writhe and dance. "Stop! Oh! Why won't you stop? Please!" She tried pressing her thighs together as tight as she could make them squeeze, in hope of trapping his hand, forcing it to keep still if she couldn't force it out of her altogether. But it didn't work—all that did was press his hand tighter within her cleft, and his fingers were still perfectly free inside her to wriggle around. "Gahhgghh!" So then she flung her knees wide, to ease the pressure—but of course that only gave her a moment's respite, before he took advantage of her opening so wide, to push his hand in even deeper! "Ohhuurrhh! You bastard! Stop! Why won't you stop? It feels—It feels—hhhhuunnh!"

"Yeah? How's it feel, Loretta? Tell us."

But how could she say it? She couldn't even think. "What's happening? I don't know what's happening to me!"

"Don'tcha?"

It was the same tingling as she felt in the bath or the swimming hole, but magnified a thousand times. She couldn't bear it—it was terrifying. What was this going to do to her? "Please stop! I'm frightened. I beg you! I'll go crazy! I'm going crazy! I can feel it! You're making me lose my sanity! Oh please! It's too much—it's too much!"

"We like seein' you go crazy, Loretta. We like it when you beg. You better keep doin' it, Marshal."

"Please! I'm begging! Like you want! I don't know what's happening! Spare me! I beg you for mercy! I think I shall scream! I shall have to scream!"

"So go ahead, Marshal. Scream away. Scream your head off, if you want."

She did. "Ahhhaaaarrrhh!! Ahhuuhhuuhh!! God help me! GODDD!"

He kept rubbing it, and further inside her too, until suddenly the feel of it became so enormous and explosive that she couldn't make any more sounds—she could no longer shriek or speak or even breathe, nor could she see or hear or think, and then she couldn't keep up on her feet anymore. Her legs gave out beneath her and she had toppled to the grass on her butt with a jolt.

"God!" she gasped, after it had finally passed and faded, whatever it was ...

The brothers both snickered.

She thought maybe she'd fainted. She'd never fainted before, so she wasn't sure what it felt like. But if it wasn't a faint that made her legs give out, she didn't know what else it could have been. Or if she did, she didn't want to. She wouldn't accept that these villains had been able to do that to her. If it had really been what it might have been. Already it was hard to remember how it had felt. Only that it had been such a strong burst of sensation she thought she might have been going to die. She had thought it might have been a stroke, like the doctors said had killed her pa when she was little. But now she knew, whatever it had been, it hadn't been a stroke.

And she knew it would have been a glorious, rapturous sensation if it hadn't been so dreadful and terrifying, at the same time. If she could have allowed herself to embrace the experience, rather than resisting it with all her will and power, such little shreds as remained to her ... If it hadn't been these vile criminals, doing it to her, and only to defile and shame her in her powerlessness. But now perhaps she finally had a better understanding of how so many women allowed themselves to fall into sin and submit to the degradations of prostitution, against all good sense and religious teaching.

The second brother had made her suck on him after that. She was almost grateful when he made her start. Because while she concentrating on that, she could stop wondering about the thing she'd just experienced. And what it might mean ... That was what she had hoped, anyway. Actually it hadn't helped very much. Once you got the hang of sucking a cock, it didn't occupy your mind much. Your thoughts could wander all over the place, and they did ... They seemed to wander all the places you didn't want them to go ...

When he got done, he sprayed out more goo than his brother had. It took longer to finish pumping out of him. And it seemed to have a thicker consistency. He aimed the majority of it at her tits, rather than her chin and cheeks. Covered both her nipples completely. Again, she was astonished how scalding hot it felt landing on her skin, for the first few seconds—but then it turned just as shockingly chill, making her shiver. Both sensations made her moan again, the heat and then the cold. "Ohhnn. Uhhuhh." She wished her hands were free, to wipe it away. But the men wouldn't let her do that. They'd made her dirty and they wanted her to stay dirty. They wanted to keep looking at her with the foul stuff splattered all over her, and dribbling down in strings. So now some of it had oozed down to her belly and her thighs. So disgusting. Why did they find it so delightful, to make her slimy and stinking like this? Why wasn't it grotesque to them, as it was for her?

Then the vile man had asked her: "You want me to touch you inside again some more, like my brother did? Would you like that, Marshal?"

"No," she had answered, appalled. "Don't." How could he think she would want that? But no doubt he was only taunting her. "Not again. I couldn't bear it again." Would it feel the same as before? Or would it become even stronger?

"Liar," he had said, snickering.

"No! I'm not!" Yet just then she'd realized she was squirming her thighs together, as she contemplated it. Swaying on her knees as if she was being rubbed down there, but nobody was. She could almost feel it happening—but it was only in her head. The memory of before.

"Are you sure?"

She hadn't been. She hadn't been able to say anything else.

"Suit yourself then," he had concluded, and then asked his brother to pass over the canteen he was guzzling from ...

So it wasn't done to her again. The moment had passed. Her ordeal was over.

She'd got through it, bad as it was. She'd found the strength to do what she promised. At least the ghastly task was complete. She must concentrate on that fact. The deed was done.

She had earned her freedom. That was the main thing. It had all been a means to this end. She only did what she had to do, to save herself. There had been no other alternative. This disgrace to spare herself a far more terrible and agonizing one. It had been the right choice and she would not regret it now. It would be pointless, above all else.

The brothers had finished cleaning themselves, and they'd buttoned their shirts back on and put on their hats.

"Time to get a move on, Loretta."

They crouched down on either side of her. She thought they would untie her ropes. She rolled over on her belly, so they could reach the knots better. But all the brothers did was lift her off the ground, together. Then they carried her to the horses, breathing hard.

"What are you doing? What are you doing?"

They were slinging her back on to the nag. Putting loops around her knees and shoulders again—in addition to the ones she was already wearing around her arms and torso—to keep her secured sideways and face down on the saddle, same as before.

"You said you'd let me go! We made a deal! I just sucked both your cocks! You promised to let me go!"

"Well, I know we did. But we ain't going to. Sorry, but that's just the way it is. Angie would skin us both alive, if we let you loose."

"But you said you would! You promised!"

"Did we? I'm not sure I ever gave you my word on it. Did I ever give her my word, brother?"

"Not so far as I recall."

"No! God! You can't do this! Not after everything I just put myself through!"

"Look, Loretta, I thought it over carefully. Honestly. I really came close to lettin' you go. I thought maybe I could tell Angie you escaped. Or that maybe—I thought this was a better idea—some Injuns turned up and took you from us—she couldn't blame us for that. Problem is, I just ain't never been any good at lyin' to Angie. She always sees right through me. Besides, we don't have no clothes to give you. Imagine what would happen if we left you out here all nekkid on yer own, like you are. Without a horse, and barefoot, you probably couldn't make it back to town before nightfall. Imagine how hard a time you'd have, trying to get yourself back home with these purty feet of yours totally unprotected from the harsh and stony ground. Just lookit how soft and delicate they are." To illustrate the point, he prodded at one of her upturned arches. Scraping his fingernail in rapid circles to tickle her there. "Coochie-coo, Marshal." She squealed—but could scarcely even kick against him, with her legs bound as they were.

"Stop it! Stop it! Oh you bastards stop STOP! PLEASE!! PLEASE STOP OH!OH!OHAAH!"

"See, this is what I'm trying to explain." He finally relented, releasing her foot. "All sorts of terrible things might happen to you."

"But I—I whored myself for you! I just made myself into a whore! I let you ... I let you put your cocks in my mouth! I let you spend all over me—I can still feel it crusted all over my skin! And now it was for nothing? Nothing!?"

"Hell, you weren't all that good at it, Loretta. Not to say you was awful, but you wasn't spectacular neither."