Yapping Mongrels

Clifton did not live to see prison. He did not even live long enough to start his trial. But the transcripts of his arrest and confession were used to secure Jared Broussard's release from Mumphrey

"Mister. Broussard," Aaron Stohler, the warden of Mumphrey spoke Jared's name slowly and deliberately. "You were one of the worst prisoners in here. I am truly thankful you are being released. I do want you to know, should you return? I will personally make sure your stay here is as unpleasant as possible. Am I clear?"

"You mean, up 'til now, you were trying to make my stay here a happy one?" Jared asked.

The warden let a rare smile form. Then he lost the smile and nodded toward the front door of the prison.

Thankfully, Kaitlin was there, in her Lincoln Navigator. So Jared was able to pocket the sixty three dollars he would have been charged for the bus ticket to DeGarde, Louisiana.

"House has pretty much been gutted; bunch of meth addicts broke in, stripped all the metal out of it," Kaitlin apologized.

"Jesus, really? My momma's house? Shit," Jared spat.

"Furniture's all gone too," Kaitlin continued her list of disappointments Jared would be returning to when he arrived home.

"So, what's the good news?" Jared snapped.

"Roof's still good," Kaitlin said. "So, that's about fifteen hundred, two thousand you won't have to spend."

Thankfully, Jared had thought to put all his keepsakes, mementos into climate controlled storage just after the first time his home was vandalized by rabid drag-racing fans. When it appeared that he would lose, he paid ten years of fees on the unit. If either Gloria or Kathleen had ever come to visit him, Jared would have given them the key to the unit. There was still a child's tricycle; it had been Gloria's and then Kathleen's. Jared had saved it for his first grandchild.

But neither Gloria nor Kathleen had ever come to see him. So, the key had remained in his possession as he languished in prison.

Kaitlin braced herself, waiting. But her client never did ask about his two girls.

*.*.*

Diamond wiped at her nose. She then wiped the back of her hand on the back of her skirt. The twilight was already teeming with mosquitos, vicious, aggressive mosquitos. As if her skin didn't already itch bad enough.

Her stomach lurched. Diamond could not remember the last time she'd eaten. No, the cock she'd just finished sucking didn't count as eating.

She didn't dwell on it too long. Dwelling on it would build a desire. Desires were futile. Desires were a waste of time.

An older, nondescript car coasted to a stop and she tottered toward the car.

"Hey, you uh, you got change for a dollar?" she asked.

"Uh huh, what you need?" the older man asked, not really looking at her.

"Twenty five a blow job, fifty for some pussy," Diamond said, after checking the car's interior for any signs this guy might be a cop.

"Get in," the man snapped, gloved hands flexing on the steering wheel.

"Turn the corner up ahead, got a room at the motel," Diamond said, pointing.

Her left leg bore some light scarring. The man looked at her leg when she got into the car. She smiled and flashed him a glimpse of her pussy. But his hard brown eyes did not even look at her brown muff.

"Right there," Diamond pointed.

She made him show her the money first. Then she guided him up the stairs to Room 211.

"Jesus, guess Housekeeping ain't been here in a while, huh?" the man cursed when the smell of unwashed sheets, unwashed bodies assaulted his nostrils.

She stripped; just pulling half shirt off, then dropping skirt to the floor. The man regarded her nude body with dispassionate eyes.

She shivered. Even as disassociated as she was, as damaged as she was, this man made her nervous.

He was old, with leathery skin, some flecks of brown in his gray hair, deep crows' feet at his eyes. His eyes did not have life in them, his mouth did not smile.

He was handsome, in a rugged or craggy way. Diamond had learned, long ago, though, that the cute ones could sometimes be the most dangerous ones.

Diamond was pretty, or she had been at one time, before the ravages of meth addiction had eaten away her beauty. Her eyes were a flat brown; they'd once been warm pools of caramel. Her once pretty face was pocked from constant scratching at the itching flesh. Her once lustrous brunette hair was now oily, stringy.

Her breasts had dwindled from a proud 34D to 29 C. Her belly was concave and also pocked with constant scratching. Her arms, the arms that had once played basketball were now dotted, crisscrossed with needle marks.

Her pussy was capped by a thicket of matted brown hair. Her legs were spindly, the left one bearing scars from when a foolish teenaged girl had jumped the curb and crushed her and her bicycle.

As the trick stared at her nude body, eyes unreadable, Diamond felt like putting her arms across her breasts, put her hand over her pussy.

"Go ahead," he snarled. "Why don't you scream for your pimp? "

"Tommy!" Diamond screamed, truly terrified now.

The door banged open and a bloated Thomas Huvall Jr waddled in. The man smiled almost maniacally at the severely overweight pimp.

"Long time, Tommy," the man said.

His first punch broke Tommy's nose. Blood spurted and sprayed. His second punch knocked out five of Tommy's teeth. The remaining punches went to Tommy's kidneys.

Tommy grabbed for his gun and the trick broke Tommy's arm. Three more savage blows to his kidneys and Tommy collapsed onto his knees. The trick kicked Tommy in his head and Tommy sprawled onto the filthy carpet.

"Uh huh, bitch, and how much money you been making off them girls, huh?" the trick asked, jerking Tommy's pockets inside out.

He threw the bags of meth onto the bed. Diamond just stared in disbelief; she'd seen Tommy savagely, ferociously beat other tricks nearly to death. One of those tricks had been a cop and Tommy had managed to disarm the cop and sodomize the crying, sniveling police officer with his own baton.

Yet, this much smaller man had easily beaten Tommy unconscious. He nudged Tommy with his shoe, then walked into the filthy bathroom. He reappeared, carrying a Styrofoam cup of water.

"Out that toilet," he smiled at Diamond.

He then dumped the cup of water onto Tommy's bloody face.

A whistling sound alerted the trick that Tommy was beginning to come to.

Upsa daisy," the trick said and hefted the nearly three hundred pound man to unsteady feet.

He opened the door and ran, jerking the still stumbling Tommy with him. Diamond watched in horrified fascination as the man jerked tommy toward the railing and then toppled Tommy over the cast iron railing, allowing the pimp to fall to the parking lot ten feet below.

"Hey, nuh uh, what you done with my boy, huh?" an African-American man demanded, wielding a baseball bat.

"Bring it, home boy," the trick smiled.

Big Country swung the bat, aiming for the trick's head. Through the open door, Diamond watched the trick easily duck underneath the vicious blow, then punch Big Country's arm, just above the arm pit.

Big Country screamed as his arm broke just below the shoulder. Then the trick grabbed his baseball bat.

Big Country would survive the beating. But for the next eight months of his life, before one of his girls stabbed him, killed him, Big Country would not take a step without thinking of the old white guy.

Diamond saw the two bags of meth the old white guy had dug out of Tommy's pocket. She grabbed both bags, dressed quickly and scampered out of the motel room.

"Gloria," the old man called out after breaking the baseball bat over the railing.

Diamond skittered to a stop.

Gloria. That had been her name. A long time ago, years ago, she'd had a mom and a dad and a Paw-Paw and a Maw-Maw and a Nana and a sister and they'd called her Gloria.

"Throw that shit away, you don't need it," Jared said, taking the bags out of her hands.

"Daddy, yes I do," she sobbed.

"No, no you don't Sweetheart. No you don't. We're going get you the help you need," Jared said,

He led her, shaking and sobbing down the rusty metal steps. He then put her into his car again.

"Daddy, I'm sorry," she sobbed.

"I am too, Sweetheart," Jared sighed. "I am too."

The Intake Counselor at the DeGarde CDU looked at the filthy, sobbing girl, dressed in scraps, with frayed flip flops and shook her head. She told the girl, point blank, her chances of making it were slim to none. She'd seen too many strung out whores to paint any false pictures.

Jared put the wad of money he'd taken from Tommy's pockets on the counter and told the Intake Counselor to call him when that money ran out.

"Daddy, please don't leave me," Gloria begged, clutching onto him.

"Baby, I got to go get your sister," Jared said gently. "And, I got to go get you some clothes. You can't wear that all twenty eight days you're here."

Bargain Bin clothing store sold him some serviceable clothes and a pack of underwear.

"Mr. Broussard, she's still being processed, but I'll get this to her," a young intern promised as she took the bag of clothing from him.

"Every time you see her? You remind her she's got a Daddy loves her," Jared made the intern promise.

In unincorporated Bender, just on the imaginary line that separated Flowers from Bender, there was a private club called The Basin. Membership was five thousand dollars application fee and one thousand a month after acceptance.

Arielle Sonders looked around the dimly lighted parlor with satisfaction. The mannish looking blonde saw three girls circulating among their guests, bringing them drinks and finger foods. Another girl was perched on the arm rest of a couch, giggling and cooing and laughing as she chatted with one of their guests. Arielle smiled, but the smile did not reach her mean little eyes.

A blonde girl with large breasts bent to put a drink in front of a guest. Another guest reached up and cupped one of the girl's dangling breasts. The blonde girl smiled and giggled, then offered both breasts for the guest's pleasure.

Arielle blew a piercing blast into her whistle. Before the shrill blast ceased, the four girls were gone. Thirty seconds after the blast of the whistle, nine young ladies, ranging in age from eighteen years to twenty three years were secreted behind a wall in the kitchen. They stood stock still and uttered no sound.

Once, during a drill, one of the girls had hoped it was not a drill. She had called out from their hiding place.

The panel was quickly shoved open and the hapless girl had been dragged out by a handful of hair. She was never seen again.

"Sorry, valued guests," Arielle called out at the room full of puzzled, shocked guests. "Every now and then, we run these little drills. It assures us, and you, our valued guests the security and discretion you've come to expect of The Basin."

With a nod from Arielle, Lydia, the head chef slid the panel aside. The nine girls silently filed out of their hiding place. As the incredibly busty blonde walked past, the chef reached out and let her fingers run over the girl's bouncing breasts.

Cheyenne stopped and smiled, allowing Lydia to fondle her. The chef smiled and kissed Cheyenne. Then lightly slapped the girl's buttock.

With a giggle, Cheyenne continued to saunter out to the parlor again.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Lambert," she cooed as she returned to the table she'd been serving.

"Oh, no need to apologize," the man smiled and again toyed with her large breasts. "Now, where were we?"

"I believe you were right there," Cheyenne giggled flirtatiously.

The fact that Cheyenne, formerly Kathleen Ann Esposito was the daughter of a school friend of Arielle's meant nothing to Arielle. None of these little tramps meant anything to the woman. The only thing that meant anything to Arielle Sonders was the money that these little playthings brought in.

That, and she did love the thrill of breaking a new girl in. She loved taking a beautiful little cunt, one that was used to getting whatever she wanted, based solely on her beauty, and stripping them of any vestiges of humanity.

Kathleen had been easy enough. A few years after the death of her mother and the incarceration of her father, the girl had been caught shoplifting from Abdul's Department Store. For two thousand dollars, the security guard looked the other way while the frightened eighteen year old was hustled into Arielle's van.

Her clothes were torn from her and she was strung up by her wrists in a pitch black room. Her toes barely reached the floor, but dangling from her wrists alone was extremely uncomfortable and made breathing difficult. The temperature was fifty degrees. Within moments, the young beauty was shivering.

She screamed in terror. In the darkness, she'd felt something furry brush against her leg. She heard a growling sound. The moments dragged by. She called out, but there was no answer.

The moments dragged into hours. Just as she was about to drop into slumber, another furry creature brushed her leg.

"Oh God help me! Please!" Kathleen sobbed out.

There was a rustling sound. Then another furry thing brushed her leg.

"Please!" Kathleen screamed.

This went on for several hours. By now, she'd emptied both bladder and bowels. She was cold, hungry, frightened. The rustling and the growling had not ceased; it had become bolder.

"No!" she screamed and sobbed as a furry thing stood near her feet, sniffing at her.

Then she could smell food. Delicious food. She salivated.

"Please," she whimpered. "I'll do anything."

Days after being shoved into the rear of a van, several hours of dangling, toes just touching the ground, Kathleen sobbed and wailed uncontrollably. After a few hours, her tears dried and she hung, praying for death.

A sharp slap to her face roused her.

"Please, please, I'll do anything," Kathleen sobbed.

"Hungry?" a harsh female voice asked, almost mockingly.

"Yes," Kathleen whimpered.

"Yes, Mistress," the voice said again and slapped Kathleen.

"Yes Mistress, I'm starving," Kathleen sobbed out.

"Lower her," the voice rang out.

Kathleen sighed as she could feel her ropes being lowered.

"Eat my pussy," the woman ordered, using a handful of Kathleen's blonde hair to force the girl to lie on the floor.

"Eat my pussy real good, I might give you some food," the unseen voice purred.

"Yes Mistress," Kathleen agreed.

The woman's pussy was densely carpeted and smelled unwashed. Kathleen's tongue was thick from lack of water. Her lips were dry. But she tried, desperately tried to satisfy the woman.

"Thought you were hungry," the woman snarled, pulling her pussy from Kathleen's mouth.

"I am, I'm sorry, I'll do better," Kathleen sobbed.

An hour later, the smells of food returned. Again, the woman planted her pussy directly over Kathleen's mouth.

Kathleen licked frantically, searching for the woman's clitoris. Her hands were still bound so she had to rely solely on her mouth and tongue.

"Ah, oh yes," the woman barked a short laugh.

A bowl was shoved against Kathleen's face. Kathleen could smell the food in the bowl and rolled onto her stomach. Then she got to her knees and started lapping at the food in the bowl.

She didn't know what it was. It had the consistency of mashed potatoes and had almost no flavor. But to Kathleen, it was delicious.

A second bowl was pushed against her first bowl and Kathleen discovered that it was tepid water.

"Thank you," Kathleen mumbled.

She was yanked upright by a handful of her hair. A sharp slap that had her seeing blinding flashes of light rang out.

"Thank you, what?" the female snarled, voice full of bitterness.

"Thank you, Mistress," Kathleen shrilled.

"Not good enough," Mistress declared.

And again, the ropes were pulled taut. Again, Kathleen found herself dangling, toes just barely able to reach the ground.

Several hours later, she was given another chance to please her Mistress. This time, she did remember to address the woman as 'Mistress' and did manage to lick and suck the woman's foul smelling pussy to a quick orgasm.

"As filthy as it is, you'll need to learn how to suck cock," Mistress declared after several more hours of dangling.

"Yes, Mistress, thank you, Mistress," Kathleen babbled.

"Oh, and your name? Is Cheyenne," Mistress decided.

The ropes were lowered. Kath... Cheyenne sighed in relief as she lowered her stiff, aching arms. Her hands were still bound; she wanted to be able to rub her aching muscles.

"Are you stupid?" Mistress snarled, voice thick with disdain.

"I, no ma'am, Mistress," Cheyenne stammered.

"You're going to suck a cock. You really think you're going do that standing up?" Mistress screamed directly into Cheyenne's ear.

Cheyenne quickly got to her knees. And again, the ropes were pulled taut.

She could smell him before she could feel him. There was a man's sweat on the air. Then a large, semi-erect cock was slapped against her face.

"Want to eat? You have three minutes to make him come," Mistress spat. "Oh, and Cheyenne? Better swallow every drop, hear?"

Because her hands were bound, stretched high above her head, Cheyenne had only the use of lips, tongue, and throat to pleasure the quite thick meat dangling against her face.

"And your time starts... Now," Mistress said.

Cheyenne could actually hear something ticking as she hurriedly captured the man's cock. She slobbered around the musky tasting knob, then attempted to swallow him into her mouth.

She gagged, retched when the man's cock bumped against the back of her throat. Tears streamed from her eyes as she continued to choke on the slowly expanding cock.

'Ding!' the timer rang out. Cheyenne sobbed; the cock had not ejaculated. She had failed.

"Well, better finish him off since that's all you'll get to eat," Mistress ordered.

Cheyenne continued to suck and lick the man's fat cock, continued to try and swallow him down her throat. She could now taste the man's excitement as it leaked from the tip of his cock.

Finally, with a groan, the man did spurt his semen down Cheyenne's throat. He pulled his cock from her mouth, even as she tried to keep him inside of her.

"Thanks, bitch," the man growled and slapped her face, once on each cheek with his cock.

"Better luck next time," Mistress said and again the ropes began to tug Cheyenne into a standing position.

"No, Mistress, wait, please!" Cheyenne begged. "Please! I'll do better!"

"Next time? For your sake, I certainly hope so," Mistress snapped.

(Arielle smiled. Lamont had masturbated just prior to coming into the room, had spurted a good sized load. It would have been extremely difficult for Cheyenne to bring the man to climax in under three minutes. But just to ensure that this did not happen, Arielle had set the timer to only two minutes.)

Hours passed. Then the ropes were again lowered. Cheyenne eagerly got onto her knees. When the heavy cock was slapped against her face, she kissed it.

"And... Now," Mistress ordered.

Cheyenne sucked, licked, milked the fat cock. She managed to get most of the man's thick cock into her mouth before having to back off.

'Ding!' she heard and began sobbing. But she continued to suck the man's cock. A few minutes later, the man grunted.

"Thank you, sir," Cheyenne praised after the man had pulled his shrinking cock from her mouth.

"Huh? Oh, oh yeah, sure thing, cunt," the man snapped.

And again, the ropes were pulled taut. Cheyenne sagged, defeated.

The fifth time the ropes were lowered, the fifth time Cheyenne swallowed a man's cock, she managed to get him down her throat. She managed to coax his semen out of him just before the timer dinged.

"God damn!" the man grunted, surprised.

"Well, very good," Mistress purred.