Every year her mother had ordered a bull to service their cows — a large, temperamental beast she'd been told to keep away from and normally had. Except for one season when it's owner, a crude man, had come on her alone and coaxed her out to the paddock to see for herself what her mother had been paying for.
Dee had been naturally curious, but that curiosity had turned to shock when he'd called her attention to the huge pouch that had hung between the beasts short legs. Her stomach had churned with fascination and embarrassment as he'd explaining its purpose, as well as that of the sheath that lay against the beasts belly.
Luckily her mother had called out then, before he'd had the opportunity to show her his own 'equipment' and Dee had run, with his knowing laughter echoing in her ears. But she couldn't run now, she could only stare past Mack's deadly knife at the recreation of that frighteningly primitive virility.
She felt the penis withdraw, slowly, then stab into her again, the heavy slap of those testicles triggering another wave of pleasure. She watched the sac swinging between her thighs and wondered if she could reach past the knife and touch it. It was so full, its contents so… potent looking — she found her fear dissipating. She wanted to touch it.
He thrust into her again, the knife edge scraping her other nipple, and this time the jolt of pain-pleasure made her dizzy. She closed her eyes, grabbing handfuls of fern to steady herself.
'Five minutes.'
The knife scraped back and forth as he moved faster inside her and Dee started to pant. The pain was fierce — she knew her nipples would be raw — but the slap, slap of those big testicles against her throbbing flesh was pushing her closer to the edge.
She remembered the one time she'd seen that bull mount a cow. Her mother had thought she was in the house ironing but she'd snuck out to watch, her vantage close enough to hear her mother's voice. 'That's it, big boy. You stick your big cock into Sally and give her a good hard fuck.' Dee had been shocked by her mother's words, and even more by the envious tone. Hadn't her mother hated 'the ugly business'?
'Four minutes.'
Dee had been only twelve, but she'd felt strange for days after that. And milking Sally had made it worse, squeezing her flaccid udders the way that bull's penis would have been squeezed inside her.
Dee had begun squeezing her own breasts then, remembering the bull. It had hurt at first when she'd done it hard, just as Mack was making them hurt now…
'Three minutes.'
…but there'd been a corresponding spasm of pleasure from between her tightly squeezed thighs and she'd imagined then the feel of a 'big cock' between them. Once, in bed, she'd rolled onto her stomach and rubbed her aching mound against the hard mattress, squeezing her nipples until they'd stung…
'Two minutes.'
…and she'd felt the pulsing between her thighs grow, imagining that bull. Imagining Sally…
'Sixty seconds.'
… feeling the slap, slap of a heavy pouch against her, the pain from her breasts going on and on…
'Wendee.' Xavion's voice came from right beside her ear and it took her a moment to grasp the fact that Mack had stopped. They were poised on the brink. This was the orgasm she'd never allowed herself to have all those years ago.
'You can stop now,' Xavion said. 'It's your choice.'
She felt Mack's knife move, the tip now, instead of the edge, scoring the tender flesh at the top of her breast. Drawing blood.
'Wendee?' Xavion was waiting.
She looked down at those huge testicles. 'No,' she said hoarsely. 'Not yet,' and was rewarded by the immediate return of Mack's sharp lunges. The heavy sac pounded against her, the knife edge scraping her nipple again.
She heard a moan of protest, probably from Christophe, and the sound of crashing through the undergrowth that faded as the roaring started in her ears. She was back on her narrow bed, quiet so as not to alert her mother, her belly moving against the hard mattress as the strange pleasure built.
Her breasts stung and she remembered squeezing Sally's udders — imagined squeezing a big cock — then the bull with his pouch swaying and the long narrow shaft that had protruded above it spearing into Sally and -
'Stop now, Wendee?' Xavion asked softly but it was happening, she was pushing her head down onto the cushion of ferns, panting, looking back up her body as the knife flicked sideways out of Mack's hand to land among the ferns beside them. He grabbed both her breasts and squeezed them brutally.
It was just the catalyst she needed. Pressing her lips together to stifle the moan of pleasure, she shuddered into a blinding orgasm, unaware of Mack's arms holding her up as he maintained the rhythm for another couple of thrusts, only barely registering the last jarring impact as the finale to his rut.
Blood pounded inside her brain, but above that she heard Xavion's voice. 'Stop?'
'Yes,' she panted, 'Stop.'
Mack released her and she crumpled onto the ferns, her limbs boneless. There was a murmur of voices, then she felt hands turning her, cradling her against a chest. Xavion's chest. Panting and weak, she relaxed into the warm wall of muscle that flexed as he lifted her and began walking.
Gradually the rocking motion lulled her and her breathing became more even. The damp-earth smell faded, replaced by sunshine and the sea.
The rocking grew gentler, and she slept.
Chapter Fourteen
Dee opened her eyes to find Christophe seated on the edge of her sleeping platform. He was watching her, and looked as though he had been for hours.
'What time is it?' she asked softly, not moving, wondering how much of the day she'd missed. Her stomach felt empty.
'Nearly light.'
There was a second of silence.
'Light?' she repeated dumbly. 'What light? Daylight?'
'Yes. Dawn. Sunrise,' he said, as though he wasn't sure she was quite awake.
'But how can it be morning?' She frowned. 'It was morning when I — ' Christophe's gaze shifted away from her suddenly. '…when I fell asleep,' she finished awkwardly.
Mack.
There was another silence as she remembered what she'd allowed — what she'd wallowed in — and was surprised. Pain and degradation. She'd had no idea they could be so… satisfying.
Christophe, of course, would never understand. He was too young, too innocent.
Still looking away, he said, 'You have slept a full day.'
That jump-started her brain.
' A day?' She sat up and the fur coverlet fell away from her. 'But how?' She couldn't have slept for twenty-four hours. She'd never done it in her life. 'Christophe?'
His eyes met hers for a second before they skidded away to her shoulder, then slowly, fearfully, down towards the breasts that were now exposed. She followed his gaze and winced at the cut. Her nipples were red, but not as painful as she would have expected.
She looked back at Christophe, and found his doe eyes exploring her upper body. The fire had bathed her in its glow but she was too far away to feel its warmth. Cool pre-dawn air stole over her and her nipples hardened, aching. Christophe was mesmerised.
She, in turn watched him, thinking. Then she asked, 'Was I drugged? Is that why I slept so long?'
'Yes,' he whispered, watching the rise and fall of her chest.
'And you tended me?'
'Yes.' His breathing was becoming deeper, slower. His voice huskier.
Dee could smell eucalyptus. Christophe must have applied a salve to the cut on her chest and her tender
