Mormon Bride Ch. 11

Chapter 11: Free-for-All

Tuesday, 28 September 1880

Yesterday, Willard whipped Franklin harshly and sent him home to his own farm for a week. I was not there, not wanting to see even a malicious miscreant like Franklin punished so. Emma told me everything, though. She was there along with Franklin's wife Catherine and the men of the household to witness the punishment.

Though Catherine played a part in me being locked outside, I told Willard that I felt no ill will toward her. If she hadn't done what she did, Franklin would have undoubtedly done something horrible to her. After Franklin's whipping, Catherine, shaking and crying, begged Willard not to be sent home with Franklin in his angry state. Willard agreed.

Emma added that after Franklin and the witnesses left, Willard placed his hand on top of the poor young woman's head, giving her the look all of us know too well. She dropped to her knees behind Willard's desk. That's when Emma left the room.

Although it was another off night for me by his own declaration, Willard still visited me to talk for an hour or so. He assured me that he was anxious to have me again in the marriage bed, and figured he normally would on Mondays, but didn't want it to be painful on me ever. For stealing his night of me, he assured me he'd made the punishment hard on Franklin, which I already knew from Emma's account.

That subject out of the way, Willard wanted his mortifying heifer report of me from where he'd left off before. I didn't resist him, but throughout the ordeal, I felt like a worthless disgusting whore, but worse than that, a sow or a goat in the yard.

Yes sir, I reported, the entire household save Franklin put their seed up my cunny, and all the field hands put their seed up my cunny. Yes sir, I reported, the entire household save Franklin made me climax loud, and all the field hands made me climax loud (though sometimes with a ball in my mouth to muffle it, which he assured me still counted). Willard said he thought he'd heard me scream for Franklin, and I answered that it was from him snapping a towel hard and directly on my cunny. Willard's lips thinned in anger. Then he told me he heard I had not made noise with George. I told him that was because George choked me. Then he asked did I climax for him anyway, and I said yes. Then he asked me did I climax hard like I would have shouted if I could have. I admitted yes.

Now Willard knew and everybody would know. I understood that if I wanted to live much longer I would have to stop, they would have to stop. Even understanding it led to death didn't make me sure I wanted it to stop. How would I ever stop doing it if they all started doing it to me? It was probably only a matter of time before someone squeezed too hard for too long and killed me. Tears streamed from my eyes. Willard ignored them and moved on.

Yes sir, George and Franklin in the household as well as all the field hands had me in the bunghole. Sir only George of the household made me climax there, and Bert, Abe, and Paul did it to me in the field house. Yes sir, all the men had my mouth. Sir, Charles, George, and Franklin of the household finished there. All the field hands finished there at least once.

After this wholly disgusting and embarrassing conversation, Willard talked to me about my schedule. Willard said the schedule is about me being bred successfully by the men, which my report would suggest favors George over James, but Willard did not favor George just now, so he would give me to James instead. The others would be himself of course, Richard, William, and Charles, and the field house on Saturday night would make six, Sunday being my day of rest.

Normally a new wife would not be given to the field house so soon after her first time there, not for months or perhaps years, unless she was not producing. However, since Emma had assessed for Willard they had not wounded me too badly, and since by my own mortified account all had managed to breed me very ably with a minimum of terrified cries and a modicum of climaxes, Willard decided he must not hold me back from the duty as is customary.

He especially needed a wife who could perform the hardest duty of Saturday night without being wholly terrorized by it. The other wives had not been reasonably able to endure this save Philinda, our wife number eight counting Phebe, and Patricia, James's wife, both of whom were nearly 35 and tired after years of service on this difficult night. Furthermore, Philinda had a little one to care for that excluded her just now, and he'd rather not require Patricia to do it at the moment for reasons he did not want to explain to me. He said it would be very convenient for me to endure this for the time being, and he ordered me not to get hurt by them and to enjoy myself as best I could besides. I answered him obediently yes sir. There was no reason to make matters worse with him.

Then he told me that some gentlemen from the surrounding farms, esteemed owners or sons of owners all, would start calling on our household soon to bring wedding gifts, to make good on our commerce with their farms, to pay their respects, and to meet me of course. Regarding this new temporary duty, he said he trusted me to make myself available to entertain these visitors in the coming weeks. Not wishing to read anything more into these visits than was evident in his statement, but suspecting the worst, since he warned me about it, I responded yes, I would serve them tea. He just smiled at this and didn't talk about it further.

Emma felt completely healthy last night, and I was in a playful mood. I demanded it was my turn to prepare her, since she had prepared me so often. I said I would practice to prepare her next visit to the field crew, because I knew that was a tickle for her, and sure enough, she started talking about how forceful they were the few hours they got their hands on her as I was trapped with the dogs. She told how frightened she became about how long would they do it to her, with her being more fragile at her age, and yet how it had made her feel alive, like a young wife, not knowing any more whether new extremities of pleasure or pain lay around the next corner.

We started by giving Emma a good washing out in her bottom, three chamber pots full. Then I went to work with one, then two, then three fingers. We kissed passionately during most of this, but even so, although it was intimate, I could see it wasn't giving her the same joy it did to me. I didn't linger on it long when I found this.

Next was greasing up her cunny, which I knew from her touching and licking she would enjoy. Her being a big curvy woman and me a tiny girl with tiny fingers, I started her out with three fingers, and she liked that okay, and started getting excited. I added so that I had all four of my fingers in and out, and she said good, and was excited by having the width of my whole tiny hand like that.

I stopped for a moment to grease up my whole hand. I had done this with cows and such to turn a calf, but never a woman. I figured it probably wasn't possible, but I was itching to try. I slowly rocked it back into her up to my knuckles with my thumb in my palm, and had her like this for a while. I now appreciate more why men like to pleasure a woman with their dicks so much. The sounds they make as it's going in and out, the faces they make are different than just rubbing their button. I suppose it's in a woman's nature to be bred for sure, even if they also like girls or women.

As Emma's excitement increased, I pressed in my hand harder and harder until my whole hand popped into her. I immediately asked her was she okay, but she just panted and panted, too near her climax to articulate anything. For myself, I immediately thought, how was I ever going to get my hand out, and had a vision of being wheeled behind Emma in a wheelbarrow, my hand permanently caught in her cunny.

I started to ease my fingers around, seeing if there was any way I could carefully get my hand back. Emma was crushing my hand very strongly. Emma then made noise in her climax, a lot of noise, and I could hear it was the noise of her having great pleasure of it, and I could feel her cunny muscles thrum and squirm and squeeze my hand as she was doing it.

I thought I could maybe create some more room to get my hand out, so I slowly balled my hand into a fist. As I did this, Emma's eyes rolled back, and she groaned and shook out an even bigger climax than before. After this one was over and she had relaxed some, I was able to slide my hand out with only a little pain for her. As my hand popped out of her, she sprayed a little pee.

Although Emma reports her cunny feels very well-used, we don't think there will be any ill effects from this, and I look forward to greasing up my whole arm next time. When I said this, she threatened to do with me, but I laughed at that, knowing her hand would never fit in me past the three fingers she had already used.

Something surprising happened at breakfast this morning that I must mention. All the adult family members were gathered around the main table as usual, with all the children and a few of the wives attending them in the adjoining room. Willard rose from the head of the table and closed and bolted the door to the children's room, leaving us all closed up in the dining hall, light streaming in the windows from outside.

Then he called me to him and put his hand on my shoulder, addressing the crowd. It started off all fine, him saying that even though I was kind, gentle, and loving, nobody could deny I was the best among them and also surpassingly beautiful, I had also been horribly abused my very first days here. He lifted my hair and showed the bruise from the bedpost, and there were grumbles from the men, and clucking and cooing from the women. Then he ripped the front of my dress, exposing my breast, and tore off the dressing there to expose my cigar burn. This was a great surprise to me, and tears of shock and embarrassment sprang to my eyes from being exposed so before the whole household. The men grumbled again, and from the women there were expressions of both disgust and calls from the bolder ones that it was unseemly for him to expose my breasts as he had.

Ignoring them, he continued by saying he knew that rumors were flying around the household that he favored me in an inappropriate way, and that as a result his leadership of the farm perhaps might not be trustworthy in every detail any more. He wanted to put those rumors to rest, he said. With that, he bent me at the waist so my torn dress and bare breasts messed on his breakfast plate and other leavings. There was an indrawn breath from most all assembled, for everyone suspected what was to happen. He fussed with his breeches, flipped up the back of my skirt, tore my bloomers, and speared my cunny roughly. Luckily, I am almost always near ready these days, so it was comfortable within a few strokes.

As he had me there on the table and I sobbed in shame, the household was aghast, especially the women. He continued by saying he was in complete control of this household, and everyone in it. He said everyone, including me, was doing his bidding. He said if anyone doubted this, they had better discuss it with him direct, so he could set them straight. If he heard about any more rumors, matters would be worse for the parties involved. Then he spunked in me, and God help me, I groaned out a climax then in front of all assembled.

As I opened my eyes and Willard let me up, buttoning himself, I saw that the men watched impassively while the women looked upon me uniformly with disgust. I gathered my torn dress over my breasts and ran hysterical out of the room, leaving a trail of gravy and spunk behind me on the rug. I took a bath, hid in our room, and wrote in this journal until Emma came to see me later.

She said she had taken many of our sister wives aside after and called for them to embrace my situation with compassion rather than looking down on me as loose. She argued they knew me to be extremely hot-blooded already from my well-engendered howls and shouts in the house at all hours. She argued that I had not had our husband since my wedding night, and not last night either because of the sabotage against me, so I had clearly been pining for him fierce. It only made sense that in this horrific display for which Willard alone was responsible, I would succumb to my deep love for Willard and given by my hot nature open fully to his seed, and I should not be judged badly for it. She argued that it was good for the family my love was so strong, and it was good for all the wives that, because of my hot nature and beauty, Willard and the rest of them would be bothering me all the time while they got their work done promptly and their restful sleep, and they should be grateful for it.

Emma believed the wives would forgive me this once, but they would be watching and quick to judge if I showed any further evidence of a libertine nature or other ungodliness. Most wives were holding on to their sanity by a thread given the awful ungodliness they themselves had to endure day to day behind closed doors, so they would show no mercy towards me if they could find their way to condemning me for the sake of feeling themselves a little cleaner in their souls by doing so.

Wednesday, 29 September 1880

Late yesterday afternoon, my latest new worst imagining came true. The first caller arrived from a nearby farm. He was an owner and an elder by the name of Jabot Hedley. He was ancient to the point of barely still even being alive. He stooped over, and had a complexion that was gray and pallid, with more wrinkles than facial features. His relationship with Willard was close, apparently, though Willard did not come down to see him. Instead, Emma and I sat and listened to him attentively as he bragged very slowly and softly about the value of his wedding present, which was ironically a prize heifer.

In a few minutes Emma agreed, yes, yes, a worthy wedding gift, especially considering the tracts of land he had recently exchanged with Willard. She then led us to a nearby ground floor room I had never noticed or seen before that was only large enough for a small bed and a washstand, and left us there, closing the door. My heart sank. In the next week or so, I was to become all too familiar with this room and its function.

Lying there sobbing with my legs spread, this ancient skeleton of a man wheezing awfully and slowly pumping away with his half shriveled dick in my cunny, The bedsprings squeaking softly, I carefully weighed and considered my lot in life. Were I an actual whore, I would be happier, given I would at least be able to keep for my own and spend some portion of the profits from the sale of my body. The ancient geezer's best effort went slowly on and on like the ticking of a grandfather clock, and I was nearly fast asleep when he halted suddenly, shuddered once, and relaxed on me with total exhaustion. Luckily he was light as to be practically insubstantial, and mostly made of dust, I figured.

A few minutes later, he roused and said I was the sweetest, most innocent, and most beautiful cunt he'd had in his long life, and he could now die happy given that he had now touched heaven, or at least heaven on Earth. He went on that he had not been disturbed by my crying, and in fact took it as a sign of my innocent and godly nature, and told me to hold on to it tightly, that I deserved it more than anyone. It turned out he was terribly eloquent in an aftermath for being a shriveled ancient old shit of a man.

He then made a point of telling me that he didn't think of me as a whore, and that in fact I was not a whore, not like I had asked him for a judgment. Most things are better not denied, since in the denial itself is the veracity of the matter. It seems to me men are awful with such things as coyotes are awful with lice. He then carefully rolled off me so as not to break himself, did up his breeches, examined himself in the mirror, and finding no disarray beyond the usual, slowly ambled out of the room and shut the door behind him.

Since I had duties of attending to these visitors whenever they called, I could not be elbow deep in a cow turning a calf or shoveling out the pig pen when they arrived. I had to remain presentable. So instead of being able to work outdoors with the animals I loved, I instead had to stay indoors, stay spotless, and dust and sweep.

My life is not all woe, though, for Richard had me of the evening, and whisked me off to the magical normal place of his homestead, where delightful children danced off to bed, and where nobody did anything they didn't love to do. On the way there, I cried bitter tears to Richard about my terrible new duty and about the terrible old shit of a man I'd been whored out to in exchange for a heifer. Richard hugged me tight under his arm, and said with the help of Deirdre's wisdom, we would think of something to address it.

When we arrived, Richard ran to rile up the kids, a major function of fathers before bedtime, while Deirdre and I had a private moment at the door, reveling that we three would see each other regular weekly, and gave each other a deep, soul pulling suckling tongue kiss that promised to each other more pleasure than was possible was waiting in our future.

Arm in arm, we watched Richard tickle first Marta and then Benny. I remarked to her that although Richard was such an able leader, he seemed so much at times

Wednesday, 29 September 1880 (later)

Dear Journal, I apologize for interrupting my pleasant account of my night with Richard and Deirdre, but I was interrupted by the urgency of a caller I had to attend to with Emma, a father and son who both had me, despite Emma's requirement the son only watch. I was glad of the son, as it happened, since the father was a terrible boor and windbag who left me cold.

My visitors were Monte Richter and his two sons Alfie, who is my age, and Bean, which I'm sure is a nickname, a few years younger. Monte was a man with coal black eyes and a light brown hair and beard, getting gray. He was muscular, and not entirely bad looking. He was polite enough in public, but the stuff of nightmares in private, as I will recount. Obviously, with these sons, he had his own wife or wives, but still, here he was to come and call on me. I wondered if his wives knew about it. I'd have to remember to visit them when I got a chance to, and describe his distinguishing features innocently to them, swearing them to secrecy.

As his sons sat quietly, the father regaled us with the marvels of irrigation he'd performed with Richard to benefit both our properties, and mentioned also the passel of squeakers he'd brought for the wedding present part. Emma pronounced him worthy, and stood up to lead us to the room.

Monte bid his sons follow, but Emma stopped him, saying the private conversation was not seemly for children to attend. Monte argued that Alfie at least was marriage age, and Bean only a few years younger, a trifle. At the conclusion of the negotiation that followed, it was decided that Alfie would accompany his father, but only to watch, Emma stressed, and Bean would go play with the household children until the men were ready to take their leave of me.

With that, Monte and his eldest son Alfie crowded into the room with me, and Emma shut the door on us. The father proceeded to instruct his son Alfie on "How to get your pleasure of a girl and put a baby in her belly." Whenever Alfie answered, he would call his father daddy. The daddy told me to get on my knees and called me cunt, and told Alfie that in private he should always call girls proper by their function: cunt. It helped the cunt prepare to take the man he continued, and also reminded them to be extra obedient. Then the daddy asked me if that was correct and made me by his look answer yes, because I didn't want to get hit.

As the daddy was unbuttoning his trousers in front of my face, he told Alfie how important it was to train girls to be properly subservient for their own good. He asked me my wedding day. I answered the 17th, and he told Alfie that for example this girl was only 12 days from a virgin, but it doesn't take much time to train up a girl well like this if you do it right. The daddy told me to get it hard, and I dutifully took his limp member into my mouth. It only took about a minute before it was fully hard and I backed away.

He ordered me remove my clothes and get on the bed. I rose from my knees as he pawed me, removed my dress as he pawed me, and hung up my dress and bloomers. I got on the bed and presented my bunghole to them. The daddy laughed and said they must really like the back door in this household because this cunt was showing it instead of her cunt like a normal Christian girl would. He stuck his finger in my bunghole and told his son this one had been all greased up and prepared too, which was neighborly. He told Alfie he would tell him how to use that some other time, then pushed into my cunt from behind and started pumping.

The daddy told Alfie to get up onto the bed so he could see. The young man did, and came into my view. He looked very bothered. The daddy then started to tease his son, I would say. He said isn't she pretty? Alfie answered yes, daddy. You like her little titties? Yes, daddy. Touch them. That's right. I wasn't about to object, despite what Emma had said. She wasn't here to take the hurt if I disobeyed.

Put your fingers in her mouth. Is your wee-wee stiff? Yes, daddy. Put your wee-wee in there, son. Yes, the cunt will like it, won't you cunt? Give him your mouth, cunt. A very excited Alfie shakingly slid his iron-hard wee-wee into my mouth. It was a pretty good size despite their pet name for it. The daddy left me cold, but having this innocent boy my own age shakingly excited in my mouth was doing its work on me.

As his daddy took his pleasure back there, he naturally pushed me forward onto Alfie's dick, and I started to really feel Alfie's excitement from my mouth radiate throughout me. Alfie then held my head lovingly but excitedly, strained, and launched squirt after squirt down my throat, accompanied by a whimper followed by a groan. Monte praised the boy for spunking in my throat, and asked me if it was tasty, cunt. I said yes, sir. It actually had been, though the daddy still pumping in me was still a worthless mollusk of a man who left me cold.

Monte strained and shot a few squirts of warm seed into me, and God forgive me, I would have climaxed then but for my fear and feeling so vulnerable, that's how far the son's excitement had worked me up. Monte slid out almost immediately.

Then he noticed Alfie was still hard as nails, which I already had. I had been using it for inspiration through this nightmare and wishing he would put it back in my mouth. The daddy ordered me onto my back to present my cunny to Alfie, which I did with barely restrained excitement. Alfie was also excited when his daddy offered me, and fell onto me with gusto, bonking my head, which hurt like knives because of the bruise from the bedpost. I yelped, and the daddy told Alfie to be more careful.

Being a very excited young man on perhaps his first girl, Alife got into me on pure instinct within a few moments and stretched his way into me, and made a sound of such bliss in my ear, I practically climaxed to hear it. It made me literally shake with excitement. He started pumping on pure instinct. The excitement got to me immediately and I made a big howling bursting climax and my legs shook.

The worthless daddy looked on incredulous at his son's effect on me, I could see, when I glanced at him. So much for your worthless dick, daddy. Alfie, deep in excitement, didn't slow down a bit, which was perfect. Alfie had both his hands locked on my ass, and started making "huh! huh! huh!" sounds in my ear as he got close, and I whimpered along with him, aflame with his excitement. With a final "HUH!" he strained and shot his seed hard and hot into me, four good pumps, as I gurgled a satisfied climax into his ear. We rested together in bliss.

By this time, the daddy was hard again, so he pushed his son off me roughly, climbed between my legs, and covered me while the son stood on the bed and watched, still hard, and a little miffed. This time, already excited so, I confess I climaxed as the daddy finished, but it was really mostly left over excitement for Alfie combined with my weakness for a batch up me. I shouted Alfie's name as I did it so he would know I did it for him. Then the son was still hard and ready to go, of course, convinced his daddy off me, and had me again. I then climaxed for Alfie wetly, thoroughly, and with enormous enjoyment a total of four times: once when he had just excitedly wiggled himself back into me, twice during, and again at the end. This is when I learned how much I like to sexually humiliate worthless, boorish men. I love it!

As daddy and son silently buttoned after and left, Alfie taking a wistful look back at me, still naked on the bed, as he shut the door. I hoped I had not caused trouble for him with my impish nature, but expected that regardless it had been worth it for him, so that's what mattered. I rose slowly and went to bathe and wash for the next visitor.

Thursday, 30 September 1880

Later yesterday afternoon, there were two more callers. The first was waiting when I returned from washing up. He was rebuffed when Emma deemed the entirety of his contributions to the farm unworthy of my time, to put it delicately.

Another caller for me arrived in the mid-afternoon. His name was Victor something, and he was a fairly ugly man of middle years, somebody's son. He brought us some china and had done something about planting I did not really follow, nor did I care to. Emma deemed him worthy and led us to the room. He put me on the bed, took off my bloomers, spread my legs, and looked at me excitedly as he unbuttoned his trousers. I wondered whether he had a wife. Once he had freed his cock, which was reasonably hard, he climbed on me, trousers and all, and pushed in.

He didn't have a terrible dick, and he was younger than some, but I felt nothing as he pumped in me. I expected to feel something, but I really felt nothing. I suppose I was just overwhelmed by the whole matter of having strangers now appearing at the door and having me pretty much any time they wished to. He finished with some passion and fine spurting, but I was unmoved. He got up, buttoned, and removed himself as some of his seed, mixed with Alfie's and his daddy's seed, no doubt, ran out on the bed. I grabbed the towel from the washstand and wiped up the mess and held it to my cunny while I relaxed a few minutes before going upstairs to get ready again.

Last night was William's night, and he called on me in the room I share with Emma. Despite my joy at having a time with him again and the future times it promised, I was at the moment not the playful joking girl I'd been with him a week and a day ago. I shared with him my latest pain and embarrassment of being whored out to the nearby farms in exchange for heifers and the like. I told him about my episode with Victor whomever, and that I felt nothing during, and that I feared that all my joy and sensation had been pumped out of me now by this latest abomination served to me. I felt broken now and I had no more in me to endure with.

He reassured me as Richard and Deirdre had that these visits were fleeting and would be done at the end of the week. He also promised me there were good ones among them, men he knew I would admire and like because he did. But he understood how cold a comfort that was with me at the end of my rope. Please come meet my wife and children, he begged. I brightened up, thinking of Deirdre and hers. I said, that's what I need, and in a few minutes it seemed, we were off to his homestead.

William's wife Sandra, he called her Sand, and his two little daughters Megan and Auburn, were delightful. After the kids were tucked in, I told Sand and William about the latest visits, and we all three had tears together, and Sand said she felt guilty for what I had to endure and what William protected her from, and how could a man do that to his own wife, and so forth.

I asked her to stop, because it was just getting me worked up, and I really couldn't endure it. William apologized to Sand that we had frightened her. I told them I just wanted to feel normal, and Sand should talk about how the daughters were growing, and also if they had whiskey, they should pour me a big one. Sand said they did have it, and got out the bottle from behind things in the cupboard, and poured herself and William a thimbleful, and got out a normal-sized glass and slopped me out a sizable one. Then she talked about the funny games her girls made up. We laughed together. I started feeling better.

I asked Sand how she felt about William being put to work most nights fertilizing the wives of the household. She said it didn't bother her too much, because she saw them as sister wives since for now William only had her. She said she knew I was a special one for William, because he couldn't shut up about me after our first night together. As she was talking, I was hoping that Sand would be like Deirdre and invite me into their bed. She was a quite striking and intelligent woman, I found her so, and so I was attracted, and started wondering as the whiskey worked on me what her cries might be like.

I got sloppy and silly, and William said, that's the Athalia I know, and I said what, drunk and dizzy? I tried to say in my most serious voice that we still had work to do that night, William Smith, to try to put a baby in me, and that he must spunk in me, and I must climax multiple times, or Willard might replace him for George, because Willard asks these questions, and I didn't want to remember a bunch of lies, so what were we to do? Sand remarked that it was grisly that Willard was asking me such questions. I replied he has so far, and I hope he will stop.

William said this was a promising development, because earlier I had wanted to curl up and die, and now I was proposing salacious things. Then I said I hadn't even started, because my brain was unstoppered by this whisky, and I really wanted to know what kinds of sounds Sand made during her pleasure. Sand blushed deeply, and asked me back what sounds did I make? I was about to let out a howl to demonstrate, but William covered my mouth and bade me remember the children were asleep. I told Sand I'd have to bite a pillow to show her.

I then came out bluntly and asked her whether we three could visit their bed together, please? Sand told me she had never shared her bed with a sister wife. She thought it would upset her to see William make love to another woman, doing to the other woman any of the things he did to her. She realized the need for William to get it done, though, and she didn't want us to go away to the main house to do it, so she asked William and me to go do it in their bed, and then I should come out, and she would set me out on a cot in the kitchen, and then go to sleep with her husband.

William undressed himself and undressed me in his bed, and found me to be sopping wet, as we had all been speaking of salacious things that got me worked up. He wanted to taste me, because he hadn't yet. I was anxious for him to get to work in me, and he was ready too, but since he pleaded, and since I like it so much, I let him have a taste. In a very short while, I was screaming a climax into his pillow from his tasting of me, and I asked him to stop then and put it in, please.

I told William I thought it was making me hot that Sand was out there fretting. I didn't want it, I wanted her in with us kissing me on the mouth and all over, but I couldn't have that, but I was dreaming of her, and her out there fretting. William got in me and pumped away furiously, because he was pretty worked up by having me again, and by our shared interest in his wife, I think. As soon as he entered me, I think I was climaxing pretty much continuously. My eyes were crossing. But he didn't last long. I think I got out only three really good pillow-biting ones before I felt his hot spunk flood up in me deep and I wailed into his pillow again.

We rested a minute, and I was sad, because I knew my turn for the night was over, and William had done his duty now as far as Willard was concerned. And I wanted William to sleep with his wife. I was trying to feel content with how proper that would be. Then William started up in me again, and whispered to me that Sand would worry that we were lying if we didn't take more time in here. I whispered back with a big smile that she could have seen it for herself (then I had to stop and bite William's pillow). I continued after that if she had, she could be under him now instead of me (another climax). But she missed out. Oh lord, I was really going by then with the climaxes. William lasted much longer this time, then he spunked in me good and hot and deep again. By then his pillow looked like the dogs had gotten it, it had so many bite and spit marks in it from me.

A few minutes after William finished his second time in me, I staggered out their bedroom door into Sand's arms, mighty convenient. I looked her in the eye and asked her had she listened? She denied it, but it looked to me that she was lying. I said, like she had said yes, that then she heard that we were talking about how much we wanted her to join us. Sand blushed and looked uncomfortable. I realized I was talking drunk people's talk and shut up after that. She led me in the dark to the cot in the kitchen, and I fell asleep almost immediately.

Friday, 1 October 1880

As of yesterday afternoon, Willard has officially made me a dirty whore, albeit an extraordinarily expensive one. An important man of the vicinity, one Denton Kane, young in his mid-thirties to be an elder, said to be a violent man, did not offer enough in farm tools to satisfy Emma he was worth my company, but she thought the matter touchy enough to involve Willard. Alfred and Willard went off for a private chat, leaving me on the settee. I saw money change hands, which I heard later from Emma was $50, which I expect would be enough to buy a virgin princess's cunt, I would say, were it for sale. At least I knew by then he liked me.

After we got in the room, I'll admit Denton had a pleasant way about him too, very compelling, very solicitous, not ordering me around or talking down to me. He won me over in my favorite way, which was by licking and sucking my cunny until I had a glorious climax. Then he had me, and I climaxed for him a few more times, whimpering ones.

As we lay there after, with him off me and me half back on him since the bed was small, I felt close enough to him to have a few tears and describe my anguish at being made to do this, not him in particular, but any man who showed up like this.

Denton got very philosophical about it, and opined that life is suffering, and all we can do is let God judge others, as I had reserved my judgment of him, and be kind, which I was, and be generous, which I mightily had been to him given the circumstances of our acquaintance, and create good, which he assured me I had done with him. He also went on about my beauty and he wanted to make me smile. Then I said then have me again, and he did, and he felt so good in me.

After, he said he could tell I had anger smoldering in me, not for him, but he felt it radiating out of me like looking into a furnace when I had showed my soul to him during our lovemaking. He asked me to consider forgiveness towards Willard and any others who had hurt me, to make it a way of life, to turn the other cheek, to let God deal with them, and trust that he would. I kissed him dearly and promised him I would think on it.

Charles visited me in the room I share with Emma last night. He asked me how the sucking was going, and I told him proudly that the men of the field house had declared me better at sucking than the finest whore, and I thanked him for his able teaching. He smiled and suggested we undress. We did, and got on the bed, and did something like Emma and I do, except I was sucking a dick instead of a cunny. He was getting close, so I told him I wanted him to spunk in me, which he turned over and did in me in a few strokes. Then he turned around and we started doing it again as before. I had myself a couple of very good, very quiet climaxes while choking myself on his dick. Then I wanted him in me again, so we turned around and did it the normal way again. He was very vigorous, and I bit my pillow several times before he finished in me. Then he left to go back to his homestead and sleep with his wife.

Emma then joined me to sleep with me. We licked each other some beforehand as is our custom, and she said that Charles's spunk was very tasty, and that she was probably a bad mother for knowing how her own son's spunk tasted. I laughed and argued she had only raised him, and she should join us and feel it direct. It was no sin, given the rule. She said absolutely not, but with a shy smile.

Saturday, 2 October 1880

Yesterday afternoon, my last two wedding well-wishers squeaked in under the wire. The first one was a man about Willard's age named Zebadiah Clement. I didn't listen about what he gave. I tried to get interested in what his dick might be like, and I watched his hands. That made it easier. He licked me a little beforehand, which always helps me, and he did me on the edge of the bed quick and vigorous. I didn't mind it. I didn't climax, but it was nice all the same. I didn't feel frustrated by it. When he spunked in me I got a good feeling of satisfaction from that, like we had accomplished something together. I didn't feel dirty afterwards or anything. He was obviously a smart and an important man. By my own creed, I would want his seed up in me anyway and would not have denied him if it had been a question of him asking.

As Zebadiah was taking his leave, the second well-wisher, Warren Brown, was already sitting with Emma. He was a young man, and looked like he might be friendly and not mean. He had good hands and a pleasant voice. I had thankfully already missed the negotiations. Emma took me aside and asked if I was in too much disarray from Zebadiah, or could I visit with Warren without bathing first? She didn't want to make him wait. She said he was probably the last visitor, and that made me quite happy to hear. I whispered back yes, let's finish this duty quickly.

So I found myself in the room with Warren. He was a keeper in my book, because he started to go to wonderful work on my cunny with his tongue. I had to bite my pillow, and had a climax for him that way. Then he asked, kind of lighthearted, is this another man's spunk in you? I was mortified, but I had to admit it. It wouldn't help matters to lie to him. He could see he'd upset me, and we started this competition of who could apologize more to the other, me for the spunk and him for mentioning it at all. Then there was a knock on the door.

It was Zebadiah. He had left his hat. Warren and Zebadiah knew each other. Warren took the opportunity to say how much he admired Zebadiah and shook his hand warmly. Zebadiah looked over Warren's shoulder and saw me, my face beet red from embarrassment, with my legs still spread towards them and my cunny all open and wet with Warren's spittle. She's quite tasty, isn't she, Zebadiah remarked. Warren agreed heartily, and suggested he shouldn't run off so soon. Instead, they should share me together.

Zebadiah insisted he needed more of a break, and that Warren should proceed to have me first. Warren did, and since he had worked me up so nice with his tongue, I had some nice climaxes for him on the way, chomping on the pillow in my extremity. Zachariah commented I had such a beautiful blush on me, and Warren agreed heartily. Zachariah said it was rewarding to see a vigorous young man love me up so good and give me such paroxysms, Warren being perhaps twenty years his junior.

Zebadiah had his dick out and was rubbing it excitedly and watching us as Warren reached the end of his pushing and strained and shot several hot jets in me. I watched Zebadiah rubbing himself over Warren's shoulder as this happened, biting my pillow again in a howling climax and stretching my legs apart to take Warren's seed as deep as I could manage while looking Zebadiah in the eyes. I think I like it when men watch me doing it with other men. I could see the lust growing in Zebadiah's eyes and expression. It seemed I had a glimpse of the young tyrant Zebadiah had been when he had been Warren's age. Men fascinate me.

I felt insatiable for some reason. As Zebadiah had me again, I flirted slyly with Warren over his shoulder. Warren started rubbing himself up. I was all fired up, so I kept climaxing helplessly for Zebadiah this time and it was stirring him up good. He probably only lasted as long the second time as he had the first.

As soon as Zebadiah pulled out, Warren pushed in as Zebadiah looked on appreciatively. I enjoyed the quick switch, throwing out my legs again and roaring out a nice healthy climax into the pillow. Warren lifted the pillow as he pumped in me so he could see my breasts. This made me feel wonderful, because I had been feeling bad about the ugly cigar burn. Warren clearly didn't mind it.

Warren lasted a long time, by which time I had bitten my pillow all to death. Zebadiah was rubbing himself but was still fairly limp as Warren finished in me, but as Warren finished, Zebadiah splashed out a little seed on my breasts, sighing greatly. Just then, there was a knock on the door. I just couldn't help myself, and wondered to the men whether somebody else had left their hat?

It was Emma, on the warpath. She yelled at both the men, saying that Willard had told them both they were entitled to one poke in me. Instead, they had both been at me all afternoon. She asked Zebadiah how was it that he was even still here, and he sheepishly answered he had forgotten his hat. Zachariah offered two pigs by way of apology, and Warren five bales of hay. Emma shooed them out anyway, leaving me naked sideways on the bed covered in spunk.

James visited me in the evening. He said his fortunes were changing rapidly in the household, thanks to me. He and Emma were on good speaking terms now, and Richard, William, and Charles had all reached out as well, Charles being the strangest turn of relationships, since they had fought ever since they were children. Now, in probably their first ever truly adult conversation, they both saw they had no need of such childish things anymore, and if either of them felt the squabble coming on again, they had made a pact to speak to the other about me instead, about a person they both cherished, and not fight.

He asked me to get up on the bed, show him my cunny, and play with it for him as before. I happily did it. Our truce was still obviously in effect, but I didn't know how to proceed. If I told him the things I was lusting for him to do, like lick me, show me his fat dick, and so forth, I feared upsetting the truce that has me giving the orders and me willingly taking them. Similarly, I felt like he was holding back, perhaps doing the same as before, because he didn't want to ask for anything that would upset me and therefore upset the truce the other way.

I was wondering whether I should just say something to James about the conundrum when James solved it in a stroke by asking him to say tempting things to him, as tempting as I could think of, as I rubbed myself for him. I told him I was pining to see his big fat dick, and lo, he unbuttoned his trousers and started rubbing it. I told him I was making my girl cream extra delicious for him. He didn't take the hint. Maybe he had never licked a cunny. I would have to keep getting him to try, but there would be time for that. I went through all kinds of naughty things I hadn't done with him yet, but wanted to.

I was dripping for James by the time my wish list was completed, and he took me with increasing force on the bed as I relaxed to his girth. It was very enjoyable, but as he began to get really excited, I worried. Seeing his dick go into me was like watching a freight train fitting into a mouse hole. I closed my eyes, suspended my disbelief, and felt instead the love that was pumping into me from James. I felt grateful. I was feeling around for a pillow to bite because I felt one coming on. Then James's spunk hit my guts hard! Lord the pressure of it, and I shouted out "Awwwwww!" as I climaxed hard. I couldn't help it.

After, resting in each other's arms for a bit, James said he wanted to introduce me to his wife. They had no little ones yet, and it had been five years. He had been thinking of bringing her into the household, and by this I'm sure he meant having her get bred by all the men here. But he didn't want to. By that statement it could be that he did not want to share his wife, but he looked pretty desperate saying it, so I think he meant she was afraid and he couldn't bring himself to force her to do it.

I'm not sure why I did it, but I offered to come to his homestead and talk to her, answer her questions about how it was. I was skirting our truce in suggesting this. I was quick to add that I expected they were desperate to have a baby by now, and I wanted to help them any way I could think to. I said he knew I objected to the rule, but not for the function, for the lack of choice. James then redrew our line by saying it was his decision alone for reasons he'd explained to me, but he would consider my offer. We were learning to communicate.