He makes it easy, and when he is done, I am lying there with my pussy on display to the sheriff who caught me, my arms held gently, but firmly by my side.
“Damn,” the sheriff curses to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one this beautiful before.”
“She is a treasure,” Mattias agrees. “But very, very innocent.”
“Let me see the hole.”
The request is crude, and the execution is shameful. Mattias moves his hands over my bare body, his fingers finding my sex. I don’t know what he’s planning to do, but I feel a little tingle as the heel of his hand brushes over my clit.
And then he is spreading my lower lips apart. Not too wide, just wide enough to show the sheriff what lies inside them.
“That’s a tight little hole,” the sheriff says.
I feel myself blush with pure shame. Here I am lying naked, letting these men look at my pussy and comment on it. I am glad it is Mattias who is touching me. He has a gentle, sure, calming touch that makes this bearable. I am sure the sheriff would be much rougher with me.
“Does she like being touched?”
“She’s shown promise, sir,” Mattias says, rubbing his hand back and forth over my slit gently. It’s a soothing, possessive stroking, which has an undeniable effect on my body.
“Oh, yeah, there she goes. Those hips are dancing,” the sheriff rumbles. “She’ll do that so nicely on a cock.”
More embarrassment floods my system.
“She will,” Mattias says, patting just above my clit. “She’s quite responsive, when she’s not terrified. Feisty too. She’s going to need a lot of handling and a lot of discipline.”
“Is that right? She seems pretty quiet right now.”
“You’re more intimidating than I am.”
“I sure fucking hope so,” the sheriff laughs.
It seems like a jab at Mattias, and I don’t like that.
“Parking warden,” I curse under my breath.
“What did she just say?”
Mattias’ hand stops, clasping my pussy lightly. “Parking warden,” he says. “She’s been led to believe it’s a curse, I believe.”
“Income tax!” I growl at him. I don’t like being made fun of.
The sheriff snorts.
My father taught me all the worst words in the world. Income tax was a phrase he almost never used, only at the very worst of times. I expected it to have more effect.
“Damn if I don’t want to be inside that cunt,” he says, his eyes darkening again as Mattias rubs me between my legs. “She needs to be broken in before she starts being bred.”
I start to squirm. The way he speaks. The way they both speak, it is as if I have no rights. I am a thing to be used, for the sheriff’s pleasure, and then his profit.
“You know why I give you the girls,” he says. “I don’t usually have patience for the virgins. But I want this one. I want this one now.”
“She is yours.”
I look at Mattias with wide eyes. What is he doing?
“She is. You get on out of here. I want to spend some time with her.”
“No!” I don’t want Mattias to leave, but he follows orders and does as he’s told. I know he doesn’t have a choice. I know there are a thousand men waiting to kill on the sheriff’s command, but I cling to him as he gets up to leave.