The Ballad of Emily Jeffers Ch. 07

I untied her and helped her up, mindful of the mess she'd made from gaggin' and chokin' when her son fucked her face, from her own pussy juice that leaked out all the last couple hours or so, and her peein' all over herself. I lay her on the bed and proceeded to run a bath so as to clean her up. I never seen anyone who could make such a mess.

Later, after her bath and gettin' some food into her, she cleaned up the bed, floor, chair and put the sheets in the washer downstairs just as Ms. Jeffers' first client arrived. As Ms. Jeffers was moanin' and cumin' on this or that cock, I sat Mrs. Eaton down and explained what young Bobby planned, since she didn't get to hear the end of it.

She sat sobbin' and feelin' sorry for herself despite the fact she brought it all on herself by fuckin' everyone but her husband and gettin' knocked up by Orville Tanner and then gettin' knocked up again 'cause she got drunk and gang-fucked at a party.

"Ain't no one feelin' sorry for you but your own self, Mrs. Eaton," I said. "You done cheated on Mr. Eaton. You got yourself knocked up. You fucked all manner of Black boys while poor Bob was toilin' away at the bank providin' for you and the boys, two of them not even his own. Now I don't know what happened to the mortgage payments, but that don't even make no difference now you confessed all your sinnin'. Young Bobby's got every right to use you how ever he wants."

"I'm so, so sorry about it all Lawton," she sobbed, her body shakin'. "I ain't mean to do any of it, but I get these urges and get all horny and can't stop myself. Even with Bobby today, once he started, I couldn't stop and done cum so hard I just passed right out. I know it ain't right, but I know next time'll be easier and next time after that 'til it don't even matter he's my son and I just want his cock. I think Doc's givin' me stuff to make me a whore."

I didn't tell her she hit the nail on the head. And that the missing mortgage payments were never missing. And that she had one hell of a body made for fuckin' and that was now her strong suit and anyone had any kind of claim on her or been done wrong by her was gonna want a piece of it.

"They ain't no goin' back now, Mrs. Eaton," I said. "You done made your bed and now you got to get fucked in it on account of bein' a whore. Why even the chief of police calls you a whore and uses you like one any time he gets the urge. Iffin' the law has you down as such, then that's what you are. Everybody done told you -- Mr. Harper, your husband, Mr. Johnson and his son, Jack, Pastor Brown, me, heck, even your own son -- you're a whore, fuck meat. You're at the very bottom of a ladder that's got its bottom rungs in a hole in the ground. You best get used to it. Why your own son, on top of you with his cock in your baby hole, got you to open your mouth and then he spit in it."

Ms. Jeffers was moanin' and yelpin' and havin' orgasms every few minutes, so I took Mrs. Eaton to Ms. Jeffers bedroom door and got her to watch the big cock slammin' into the girl and her screamin' for the guy to pound her harder. Soon Mrs. Eaton was breathin' funny and startin' to leak pussy juice so as you could see it and smell it. I took her down to her room where I laid her on the bed.

"I'm a whore," she whispered, laid back there, open for the takin', no thought to how her pussy was teasin' me and beggin' for my attention. "I ain't nothin' but a whore worth nothin' but for my pussy."

It was a Sunday evenin', Ms. Jeffers' seventh night of fuckin' and Mrs. Eaton's fourth night of her new life. I think she finally accepted it. Right now, she was spread out  in front of me and I needed to taste that pussy. Mrs. Eaton's bodily fluids, from vaginal lubricant to cervical mucus, was a real treat, as good as Ms. Jeffers' and Mrs. Tanner's juices.

I stayed with my head between her legs as she went through probably two or three medium climaxes, and although I was horned up and wanted to take her out and put her on display, it was Sunday night and few people would be about. And I had a busy day and week ahead of me. I checked on Ms. Jeffers who was on her hands and knees with a big Black cock in her ass with her tits swingin' and her pussy drippin'.

"Ohhh, ohhhhh,ohhhhhh," she moaned. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, harder, harder, harder! Ohhh my goddddddd! Cum, cum, oh shoot it up in me Gerald. Make me your slut."

Ms. Jeffers was gettin' a lot more vocal the last couple evenin's and I was somehow proud of her. I have no idea why. I guess that while people were takin' her pussy and usin' her like she was just a thing, she was also gettin' somethin' back in the way of pleasure her own self. Maybe havin' a bit of control too.

Weeks later, after Doc Egerton started her on some special dietary supplements, her body lost any of its sharp edges, her pussy and pussy lips plumped up evenmore, her juices became more plentiful, and her state of arousal probably doubled. Doc told me it would happen, and explained that Ms. Jeffers and Mrs. Eaton were perfect whores, explainin' the difference between them and your ordinary street whore.

"What you got to understand, Lawton," he said as he launched into his explanation. "Most whores have one thing in common. And it's not what you might expect -- great body, nice tits, wet cunt. No the thing they have in common is that they don't like sex. They don't like to be fucked. That's mighty counter-intuitive, don't you think?"

I agreed. Most people thought whores liked sex and that's why they were doin' it.

"Most whores start sellin' their pussies because they're desperate for money, they're forced into it, they're on drugs," he said. "Any number of reasons except what you'd expect. Most whores fuck and make their johns cum, but never even get close to an orgasm themselves, ever."

He was fondlin' Ms. Jefffers' tits at the time, and reachin' down and spreadin' her wet pussy folds as he talked. Ms. Jeffers was in a highly aroused state, just waitin' to be used by Doc's giant cock.

"Now Ms. Jeffers here, and Mary Eaton, they've been trained and manipulated and psychologically conditioned since they was young," he said. "They're at a point they don't think of much besides sex, cause their bodies are just bundles of nerve endin's that need stimulatin' -- with the need to climax their constant and only desire. It overrides even the most basic moral imperative -- like don't fuck your own son."

I nodded my understandin'.

"Now, take a woman like that, already in a state of constant arousal, and start chargin' people to fuck her," he said. "You've got the perfect whore. All you have to do is feed her a couple meals a day and keep her in a room."

He pretty much described both women.

But that night, after Mrs. Eaton had takin' her son's cock and his virginity, Doc hadn't yet explained that to me. Later, all the pieces would fall into place of how the women had become wet and responsive things to fuck -- and then sold. That night Mrs. Eaton was a physical and mental wreck as her mind and body wanted different things, and I left her in her room, worn right out. I wanted her to get some rest while I went down to my place and made my own self a late supper of grilled cheese and tomato soup and coffee. Later, when I got Ms. Jeffers cleaned up from her Black boys cumin' in her, I roused Mrs. Eaton and took her down to my bed for the night.

Mrs. Eaton was an amazing specimen physically. She was big-breasted with inch-long nipples that were as big around as my baby finger and swelled up rock hard. I didn't blame any of the men for biting on them or markin' up her tits. She was the personification of temptation.

And her long, toned legs, especially on high heels, spoke of action, somehow. She could spread them, wrap them around your back, draw them up so her knees were at her chin, or stand bent over and take cock in her pussy while she sucked another in her mouth.

But the real treasure was between those legs. That fountain of nectar that doubled as a warm, wet sperm receptical and baby chute was plump, seemingly always swollen and engorged, with large inner lips that opened like butterfly wings. They melded to cocks that slid in and out of her always-ready and willing orifice, and hung open like flaps when that cock finally pulled out.

And she was seemingly bottomless. I've seen foot-long cocks buried balls deep inside Mrs. Eaton, her trimmed, curly auburn pubic hair matted in cum as the fuck session wore on.

Her face was beautiful and expressive of lust and pain and sorrow and less often humor and wit.  Her emerald green eyes could gleam with arousal or glaze over as she was taken by lust to some other place where, I guess, orgasms took her or maybe where orgasms came from. And they often held pain and sorrow as her downward spiral into depravity continued.

That night we lay together and made love, her orifices open and inviting as we moved slowly and passionately, eyes locked, lips often mashed together and tongues probing and dancing. I knew in some strange way I was falling in love with this woman 15 years older than me. I knew she was bein' manipulated mentally and physically and didn't understand what was happening to her. She smelled of pussy and soap and shampoo and woman. I breathed her in. At the same time I revelled in her bein' degraded, used, humiliated. I wrestled with that contradiction, yet in the end, I knew I had real feelin's for her.

Doc Egerton's estrogen treatment made certain Mrs. Eaton had no sharp edges, and I luxuriated inside her as we slowly fucked for what seemed like hours, the heat from her pussy was intense as I slid in and out of her just enough to keep us both on edge but neither wanting to cross over and end it.

She told me about her bein' a little girl, growin' up, bein' valedictorian and homecomin' queen. "There ain't been a time somebody didn't want me for my body, and me just wantin' to be somebody and help people," she said. "Then Doc Egerton got hold of me and took me off in a whole other direction eventually. I was a good, good girl until he started givin' me vitamins and givin' me stuff he said would make me a better wife for Bob and doin' my wifely duty."

I believed her, because you could see the goodness in her. And I'm sure she started out as a great wife and mother, puttin' faith in her husband and the family doctor, completely unaware that both of them were turnin' her into the slut used by half the town and eventually into the whore she was today.

And then, as we rocked back and forth, my cock pumpin' slowly in and out of her, her moanin' and sighin', I told her about April Jones and how Mr. Harper used her up and how he disposed of her by droppin' her off naked in a Black slum in a big city.

"That's what they got planned for you," I allowed. "When your boys finish with you, and your body's used up, and all you got left is givin' five-dollar blowjobs, you'll be pushed out of a car and used up by Black men 'til they find you half dead in a dumpster. I expect two, maybe three years from now."

"I know it, Lawton," she said. "I know that's how whores like me end up. Probably all hooked on drugs and not even carin' who's doin' them as long as they get a fix. I knew that was it for me the moment I walked into Mr. Harper's office last week. I knew he ran whores time to time and that I was gonna be one. Him and Doc been groomin' me all these years I guess, and I done just figured it out."

I told her her husband Bob was in on it the whole time, and last week's performance with Mr. Eaton hid out in the coat closet was all an act.

"Your husband set you up with Orville Tanner, orchistrated you gettin' gangbanged at that party, and with help from Doc and Mr. Harper have set you up with every Black cock you've fucked in the last 10 years," I said. "I done had a long talk with Mr. Stephensen, the Hollow High janitor who said Bob approached him to fuck you and he's been doin' you a couple dozen times a year ever since."

"Bob done that," she asked, stoppin' her hips from gyratin' and pushin' up on one elbow. "My Bob helped turn me into a whore?"

"Seems like," I said. "Mr. Stephensen said it happened over at the school after a PTA meetin' and he offered you a drink in the teachers' lounge where he was emptyin' the trash cans. One drink led to three and before you knew it you were on your knees and soon on your back."

"Oh my God!" she said. "I see it now. And all the others after that comin' on to me and buyin' me drinks or gettin' me drunk one way or the other. And Bob encouragin' me to go out with the girls but soon I was just goin' out and.... ohhh, Lawton. I dressed provocative 'cause Bob said that's what he liked. Was him told me not to wear any panties anymore and wantin' me to show my pussy when we went out."

"How long do you think you can survive bein' your boys' fuck toy and whore," I asked, and idea brewin' in the back of my mind. "A couple years? Three?"

"I don't know Lawton," she whispered. "I don't even know if I can stand one week. My boys will be fuckin' me every night. I'll be just a whore the rest of the time, servicin' the men of Johnsons Hollow and maybe some of the women, accordin' to Millie Tanner. I don't know, Lawton, my body says yes but my mind says no."

There was nobody gonna save Mrs. Eaton because the entire town would rather her as a fuck toy, and Mrs. Eaton herself would eventually pass a point where she'd not have the strength to save herself. She'd get to a point where the depravity was what she lived for and returnin' to any normal life could never happen. Even now I figured she'd never be able to stop fuckin' new cock on a weekly basis. Over 10 years of offerin' up her pussy to any man who wanted it, body and mind were completely rewired to a slut existence.

But I could deal with that. I just had to get her out of Johnsons Hollow at some point in the next two years. I couldn't believe I was startin' to care for Mrs. Eaton.

I held her. We were still fuckin' but so slow you could hardly tell.

"I'll figure somethin' out, Mrs. Eaton," I said. "You got to fuck your sons and be a whore for the next couple years, but I'll figure some way to get you out of here. I got to save up some money, but sellin' your cunt a bit extra might just be the way to do that."

The next day I gave her the option of stayin' in my apartment or upstairs with Ms. Jeffers, or comin' to Haler City with me.

"The only clothes you could wear are the mini skirt and tank top or the see-through sundress," I reminded her. "I got orders from Mr. Harper your pussy's got to be bare and available if you're goin' out. That there sundress looks might good on you, but all your assets is gonna show."

She decided to go with me, and she looked stunnin' with her big tits and full-bodied figure. Her nipples poked the white, gauze-like sundress material out and her pussy mound did the same, her big cunt lips hangin' down between the gap between her thighs. She looked sexier done up in that short dress than she would of been naked. She wore a touch of makeup, just enough, but it didn't shout out that she was a whore, although her bein' almost naked in public was a pretty good giveaway.

I checked on Ms. Jeffers around eight o'clock and told her our plans. She wanted to come with us, but I said I'd be takin' her the next day and maybe we'd do some shoppin'. That made her happy and when we left she was layin' down on the sofa watchin' television, playin' with her pussy down between her spread thighs.

After stoppin' at the bank to report to Mr. Harper and get some cash from him, we stopped at the funeral home to pick up the photos of the two whores, and then we headed out to Haler City where I was to stop at the newspaper, then at a couple of those adult bookstores to sign up both Mrs. Eaton and Ms. Jeffers to those rooms with the holes in the wall.

As a precaution, I had put a towel down on the passenger seat and had Mrs. Eaton pull her dress up around her waist so as her pussy juice wouldn't wet the seat or the back of the dress if she started to get horny. And as it turned out, it was a good thing I did.

As we drove, I sensed there was some sort of connection between us now. We'd treated her like the lowest form of life, not exactly rapin' her, but close enough. We degraded her, humiliated her, embarrassed her, and made her sit in her own piss for more than an hour. Yet here she was beside me lookin' beautiful, radiant, happy, and extremely sexy. And I was going to a newspaper to advertise her pussy for sale and then take her to a gloryhole where her mouth would be fucked by countless dozens of men over time.

I mentioned all that to her as we drove. She nodded, hung her head, looked out the window. Then she turned to me.

"But in the end, you're gonna do the right thing," she said. "And I get wet and horny at the drop of a hat, so it's not all your fault. It is true I'm a slut, whether of my own accord or Doc Egerton's. You said two years. I can try to survive that long. I'll try Lawton."

She wore no bra, and her tits bobbed and jiggled and bounced as we drove. Her pussy was visible and she looked like an open invitation. Truckers paced us and tooted their horns.

"And you've got to do as Mr. Harper says and what your boys make you do and you can't let on we got any kind of plan, lest they make things worse for you," I warned. "After they get you in that apartment and your boys are takin' turns with you, it's all out of my control, and judgin' from your son Bobby, you're gonna be in for a world of hurt and humiliation."

"I know it, Lawton," she said. "And iffin' you think Bobby's bad, Benny's got a real mean streak in him just like his father Orville Tanner. He's the one I gotta watch out for, and if truth be told, I gotta please him more than anyone else. I was already scared of him before Bob kicked me out and everyone started fuckin' me."

We got to Haler City and I eventually found the newspaper and give them a selection of photos of Ms. Jeffers and Mrs. Eaton whilst she waited in the car parked out front at the curb. It was a hot day, but I told her to keep the doors locked and her windows up far enough nobody could reach in.

Chad, the young guy in advertisin' went through the photos and whistled at the images.

"We can't run but these two here," he said, pointin' out pictures of the near-naked whores. "These don't quite show no private parts but get the message across."

I give him the wordin' and he counted them up and we discussed size and placement.

"Mr. Harper was hopin' for the bottom of Page 3," I said. "He's willin' to pay a bit more for that."

Chad asked exactly what the carnival was about and was they really gonna offer up their pussies. So I explained it out to him and said Mr. Harper suggested free rides for Advertising' staff iffin' we could get the ad on Page 3.

"I'd sure like to test ride that thing," Chad said, pointin' at a picture of Mrs. Eaton. "We'll get ya on Page 3 iffin' that offer includes for the publisher. He's awful fond of ripe pussy, and that there whore looks like just the ticket."

I told him his boss could certainly stop by for a ride on Mrs. Eaton.

"She's right outside waitin' for me in the car," I said. "You wanna look?"

A big grin spread across Chad's face, and we headed down to the sidewalk where a couple of guys were standin' by my car lookin' in and chattin' with Mrs. Eaton through maybe three inches of open window.

"Just pull your car into the parkin' lot," Chad suggested. "We can park there and nobody'll bother us."

I chased the guys off just by gettin' in the car, and Chad pointed to the entrance and followed us in and around behind the newspaper office.

"Chad's, probably gonna feel you up some," I warned Mrs. Eaton. "You might as well just pull that dress on up over your head lest he rip it some tryin' to get at them tits."