The coed's wild ass

CHAPTER THREE

"What time is it?" Lydia asked sleepily, rolling over on her side and staring into Tom's eyes. He had been running his fingers lightly over her shoulder, tracing the curving outlines of her upper torso while fingering her cunny with his other hand. "Looks like around six," Tom said, reaching over her head and twisting her wrist around to glance at her watch. The information made the young blonde jerk.

"My God! Tina's out there and I've got the car!"

"Hey, where're you going?" Tom asked as Lydia pulled away from his grip and rolled off the bed. The wood floor felt cold against the soles of her feet as she shuffled silently in the darkness and groped for her clothes. The young guide sat up in bed and scratched his head, wondering what was going on.

"My friend's out there, Tom. I've got to be going," Lydia said, leaning against the edge of the bed as she found her panties and lifted one foot to slip them on. Her titties swayed back and forth as she fished for her sweater, found it, and slid it over her head. Shaking her long mane of blonde hair free of the high collar, the young woman started pulling on her slacks.

"So, you gonna come back?" the guide asked after Lydia slipped her slacks over her thighs and zipped up.

"Oh Tom, I don't know. I've never done these kind of things before. You make me feel… different," Lydia said uneasily, backing away from the bed toward the doorway. She felt she needed more time to think. The blonde felt strange new sensations rising in her mind and body and needed more time to sort them out.

"Just be careful out there. We don't really have a security force. We're so far out of town the owners think we don't need one. The local cops come by occasionally but that's it," Tom warned, pushing back the covers and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed to start getting dressed himself.

"Don't worry," Lydia reassured him, turning to go.

"Hey wait. Just in case you change your mind," Tom said, groping in the darkness for his shirt. Finding it, he reached inside and grabbed a ball-point pen. "Here's my phone number," he said, scribbling as best he could in the dark on a small piece of paper and handing it to Lydia.

"I – thank you," she stammered, touched at his directness and concern.

"That's all? Just thanks?" Tom asked, dropping the pen and moving forward quickly. Lydia gasped as she felt his strong arms around her waist once more. Through her slacks she could feel his cock begin to stir, rise up and push against her crotch. His hard, masculine nakedness rubbing against her body made the young student forget her friend for a second.

"No, I can't. Not now," Lydia said, pushing herself free, turning and carefully walking down the stairs.

"Don't forget. You've got my number," Tom called from the top of the stairs. Lydia didn't answer, threading her way carefully through the kitchen, living room, then out the front door into the dimming twilight. The town square was deserted. The few lights illuminating the broad area were just beginning to come on. There was a deserted feeling hovering in the air as Lydia stepped from the front stoop of the small house, walked past the garden and opened the yard gate.

"Tina?" she called out, stopping and turning her head from side to side. There was no answer. "Tina?" she called louder, cupping her hands around her mouth and shouting as loudly as she could. Still she could hear no answer. Damn! Lydia said to herself, wondering if the girl had given up on her friend and decided to take a bus back to the university dorm. But what if she were wandering around the compound looking for her? "Damn damn damn!" Lydia said again, slapping her hand angrily against her thigh as she took off in the direction of the farm at the end of the path. Tina had told her how much she loved the animals there – especially since she'd always lived in New York City and never even had a cat as a pet. Lydia guessed her friend might return there to watch the dogs, horses, and God-only-knows-what-else until she came to fetch her.

"Tina!" Lydia cried out again, quickening her pace as she realized the sun had almost completely set. Already the whirring sounds of thousands of crickets filled the air. The thick, humid, musky odor of the damp earth and dewy grass was drifting through the cooling atmosphere while shadows in the forest grew darker.

Lydia felt her skin crawl with a kind of primitive terror as she moved along the narrow dirt path, past the Quaker Meeting House and Presbyterian Church, the copper shop and leather shop and an area surrounded only by thick woods. At the end of this section was the covered bridge where Lydia had encountered the two lewd men earlier.

"God," she shuddered out loud, raising her hands and rubbing her upper arms as the dark mouth of the old bridge yawned before her. Her head moved from side to side as she stepped into the dark structure, the sounds of her heels clattering in the covered bridge. Sounds as if someone were following her made Lydia break into a quick run through to the other side.

"Tina!" she cried angrily, hating herself for acting so strangely. Just beyond the next hill could see the top of the farmhouse rising above a small clump of tall bushes. In a few minutes the young blonde had reached the top of the hill and found herself peering down on the farm below. It had been recreated by the founders of this compound. The main path came out from the thick woods below and wound around in a broad arc to the front of the one story brown wood farmhouse. Attached to the home was a large garden filled with cabbages, some corn, beets, carrots, onions and lettuce that sloped steeply up the hill almost to where Lydia stood now. The path she was on lead past two three-walled enclosures filled with hay and smelling as if they were stalls for horses or cows.

Above her and to the right a sloping pasture contained several of those animals who grazed lazily, occasionally raising their heads and staring curiously at her. Completing the farm was a two-acre cornfield that began across the main path opposite the house and sloped down to a small brook.

Lydia took this all in, looking carefully over everything for some sign of her friend. She called the girl's name out several times but received no answer. As Lydia picked her way along the path toward the garden she wished she had asked Tom to come with her. She began to feel uneasy walking alone in the fast-growing darkness looking for someone in this deserted area.

"Oh!" she cried out, her right foot sliding across a half-buried rock in the path. A sharp pain cut across her ankle. The blonde staggered forward, falling to her knees as she struggled for breath. "Damn! I've twisted it," she muttered, reaching back and rubbing the sore area. Silently she vowed to pinch Tina when she found her as she struggled back up and limped along the path toward large, weather-beaten barn standing at the end of this auxiliary path.

Lydia was about to walk past the structure and move down through the garden to the main house when she heard a strange sound come from inside. There was something or someone inside, thrashing in the hay and moaning. Lydia stopped and pricked up her ears, moving toward the door as best she could with the hurt ankle.

Ohhhh, she heard. For some unknown reason Lydia felt her hair stand on end as she reached out and pushed open the large wooden door. The pungent odors usually hanging around in a barn assailed her nostrils as she stepped into the dark structure and peered through the thick air. At first she saw nothing and began to wonder if the sounds were only the product of her overworked imagination.

Then they came again, this time louder than before. Lydia stepped further in, shuffling through the loose hay laying over the compact dirt floor. Several stalls lined both sides of the barn while a small loft opened up overhead. Chains and pulleys dangled from other chains, supposedly used to haul up hay and other farm products during the harvest time. It was where one pulley hung at the far end of the barn where the sounds were the loudest. Lydia picked her way carefully forward, squinting her eyes and seeing something laying bound up in the corner of one stall.

For some reason she called out her friend's name.

"Tina?"

"Oh God, Lydia."

"My…" Lydia started to say, then felt horror creep over her like a disease as she leaned forward and strained her eyes. It was Tina, but how changed! Her face was flushed and swollen and both her eyes had been blackened. Her long brown hair had been cut ragged and short, while red marks and welts spotted and slashed across her nude body. Thick rough hemp was tied crudely around her wrists and ankles while a gag that had slipped off by now hung loosely around her scarred throat.

"What they did to me. Oh God, what they did!" Tina moaned as Lydia shook off her shock and dropped to her knees. Still feeling the pain in her ankle the young blonde quickly untied her friend, rubbing the girl's wrists and ankles briskly as she looked around for something to cover her up with. Now she really wished Tom were with her. "We'll get you out of here fast," Lydia said, getting up carefully and walking to the middle of the barn. "There's got to be something to throw over you."

"Lydia. Lydia, they're still here. You've got to get out of here," Tina said weakly from the stall.

"Who's here?" the blonde asked, turning toward her friend. Before the young brunette could answer, Lydia felt the breeze that had been blowing in steadily from behind stop. Her flesh crawled as she heard footsteps shuffle quickly into the barn. "Us," someone said. Lydia heard Tina cry out as she turned around and saw three men moving into the barn. In an instant the blonde recognized all of them. The first two were the ones who had stood by the covered bridge earlier that afternoon and insulted her. The third was the shoemaker Tina had been talking to when Lydia had left her to examine the small house at the other end of the square.

"What…? Who are you?" Lydia asked angrily, feeling terror slip over her like a coverlet. If only she could keep up this bravado she might outbluff them and escape. Already the feeling of the need for escape crept over her.

"Come on, hot tits. You know who we are," the heavy-set dark-haired man said, as he stepped forward. Lydia automatically stepped back, protectively covering her boobs. Behind her she could hear Tina whimpering. "I'm Rick, my friend Doug," he nodded to the tall, muscular man standing next to him and glowering at her, "and Jack the shoemaker." He grinned sickly at Lydia, then lunged forward, striking at her like a cobra. Lydia cried out, feeling his hand grip her wrist and twist it painfully. She staggered back then fell to her knees, her face becoming red and pinched with agony. The shooting pain in her ankle; the pain her wrist; she thought she was going to faint. "Ain't so stuck up now, is she?" Doug said, putting his big hands on his thighs and sneering down at her. Rick had let go of her wrist and now stood spread-legged in front of her.

"Let's she if the high princess sucks a good cock," Rick said suddenly, his face brightening as he reached down and pulled down the tab of his zipper.

"No, no," Lydia cried. She'd never done anything like that – even with Tom that thought had never crossed her mind. That was sick, perverted.

"Come on baby," Rick said, fishing inside his trousers with one hand while he reached forward and twisted his fingers in her long blonde hair with the other. Lydia's eyes widened as she watched him pull out a six-inch whanger, stroke it several times, peel back the loose foreskin and reveal a shiny slick meaty cockhead. It pulsed inches from her quivering, sweating face. Her heart raced, thudding wildly against her rib cage as the man laughed at her terror.

"Take it shit-babe," Rick snorted, pulling up on the young student's hair until Lydia shrieked out for him to stop and that she would do anything. "Then suck it," he snarled. Fighting back her desire to cry or retch Lydia formed her lips in a large circle and pushed her face forward. Quickly she put the hard cock into her mouth. Lydia groaned and shuddered as she felt the hot prod slide deeper into her. As she neared the fat root of his prong the blonde student could smell the sour pungent odor of an unwashed crotch wafting up from his opened trousers. Lydia groaned again and pushed forward, the sticky heat of that sickening sausage melting in her mouth. She could feel the throbbing veins rub against her wet lips as the mushroom-shaped head pushed over her tongue, past her nostrils and finally bumped against the back of her throat. Against her chin she could feel his small leathery balls rub up and down. God, what was to become of them all?