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ALONE ON THE FARM: JANE WRECKS HER HOLE 
Chapter 4

Written by SheilaStretch of SheilaStretch.LegitKink.net
Edited by Mr. S

If Jane hadn’t already put the basket of eggs down, she would probably have dropped it.
           
There, knocking at her front door, his back to her, stood Kristopher, the blonde mailman from before.

 Kristopher’s palomino mare nibbled lazily at some grass near the foot of the porch. Jane could see the man shuffling from one foot to another. Glancing around, she briefly contemplated whether or not she could just go and hide in the coop till he went away...

The decision was made for her, when seeming to give up, the fair haired gent turned around, immediately spotting her.

“Miss Valton!” He waved at her with a letter in his hand. Jane felt like her boots had been nailed to the ground. Her instinct told her to just turn and run, but a calmer, more insistently logical part of her knew she must talk with him - knew she needed to find a way to keep him quiet about what he'd seen... Judging by the lack of angry townspeople, she felt it was safe to assume she probably still had some chance.

As he strode towards her, Jane tried to think quickly. She couldn’t stand the idea of begging, but she knew her comparatively short stature of 5" 2' wouldn't do her any favors if she tried to make threats. Maybe bribery would have be an option- if she'd had anything to spare.

Before she could formulate any kind of plan Kristopher was there, standing before her, cheeks flushed, his skin glistening with sweat under the sweltering Louisiana sun. He cradled a brown package in the crook of his arm; something yellow peeking from the top.

“I want to say for yesterday: I’m very sorry.” His eyes darted around, as if trying to find the words, but the words came quickly, giving her the impression that he’d been practicing them. “I’m not gut at talkink to girls. I don’t know what to say to you when I see what you do to dog.”

“Um, about that-” Jane was cut off as he thrust an arrangement of wildflowers at her.

“I think you are very beautiful and I have always dreamed of findink a girl like you…” there was a strange silence as she tried to absorb what he’d said. He plowed on, “I hope you are not angry vis me. I was not lyink when I say I not know how to talk to girls.” There was a pleading hopefulness in his soft blue eyes, but he stood stiffly like a scolded child. “I...,” he started, "I couldn't stop thinking about what I saw."

The first drop of rain landed on the back of her neck. “So… you’re not going to tell people what I did?”

“No!” he looked shocked and incredulous.

“You’re not disgusted with me?” Two more droplets hit her left arm.

“No, it vas… amazink. I never thought I vould see a girl do that...” A raindrop struck, and dark spot emerged on the shoulder of his green cotton shirt. “Oh, and I forgot to leave this yesterday,” he indicated the letter, “and I vas afraid that if I didn’t say vat I felt straight avay, then I vould never be able to say these things to you.” His Addam's apple bobbed nervously.

She stared at the letter as she took it from him. Three drops of rain struck, making the paper bubble and rise, distorting the “Abi” in the envelope's return address. She quickly stuck Abigail’s letter under her arm. Her little sister had always caused her the most trouble, and it seemed that even forty miles between them wasn’t enough to fix that.

Jane looked back up to his face just in time to see a thin crack of lightning strike the distant horizon behind him.

“I don’t know what to say...”

 She saw the anxiety in his face and glanced down at the cheery arrangement of orange and yellow blooms he’d gathered. They were tightly bound with course twine and brown wrapping paper. A sudden realization that he might be trying to court her struck. For a moment she couldn’t breathe.

“Maybe ve can go in and talk?” his sentence was punctuated by a rumble of thunder, and rain gushed down over them as if the clouds had dropped their entire burden at once.

Reflexively, Jane picked up her skirts and ran towards her front door. Her dark brown hair and shoulders were already soaked through when she grabbed the handle, the bouquet and letter clamped tight under her arm as she pushed her weight against the door. In that instant she felt Kristopher’s body pause just behind her, not touching her, just blocking the heavy pelting of rain.

A sharp feeling of terror sprung up in her chest. No man had come through her door since her (then) newly married brother in law had helped move Abigail out the year before. She felt painfully helpless as they stumbled through the door together. She tried to speak; sound wouldn't come out, sticking in her throat like a spiny sand bur.

As she turned to face him, he took off his hat, sending water splattering to the floor. He glanced around for a place to hang it, and after a moment, set it on a hook by the door. She watched him nervously as he put his face against the window, peering through the sheets of rain that hammered the little house.

  “Ah, gut. Nina has taken shelter by the barn,” he commented as he watched the palomino huddle under the low sloping roof, alongside a couple of well soaked goats. Kristopher’s handsome young face was smiling as he turned back to her, but the smile faded when his eyes met hers. “Is… there somesink wrong? Should I leave?”

Jane’s mouth opened and closed silently. She shook her head slightly.

She considered telling him why she felt uneasy, but another part of her she worried that mentioning 'rape' to a man would only help him see how easy it would be...

Kristopher seemed like a quiet and gentle person from all appearances, but he was also a whole head taller than her. Her mind raced for something to say and almost without thinking, it tumbled out.

“I’ve spent all my time since yesterday, up until now praying for it to rain. I thought you’d say something, and the people down in Des Allemandes would all come up here to punish me. I’ve been scared out of my wits all day,” her voice cracked a little as she struggled to hold back her emotions. He took a step towards her as if to give comfort. She jumped back, and he stopped with a slight look of puzzlement.

“I vould never tell a soul,” he said with a firmness that Jane felt she could truly believe.

Jane nodded, and turned to the kitchen. All she could think to say was, “Would you like some coffee and pie?”

“Ya, please,” he glanced around at the cozy interior of the little log cabin. A deep boom of thunder overhead and the ceaseless drum of rain on the tin roof told Jane that she’d be entertaining for a while. She glanced at the mantel piece where she kept her rifle, and swallowed hard before moving to take down the solitary, cream vase with poppies painted on one side.

Jane quietly unwrapped and re-arranged the flowers into her mother’s vase, then put the kettle on the wood stove to boil.

Kristopher made polite conversation as she rolled out the dough, set it in the pie dish, cut the edges, and spooned some blueberry preserves from one of her jars. The rain kept coming. He asked her about her farm, what kinds of animals she raised, what she made and sold. The conversation rolled over her as her mind reeled at the sudden turn of events.

 A part of her felt strange and giddy, but a paranoid streak kept wondering if this was some kind of a trick. Seriously? A man who was ok with a woman fucking a dog? She even briefly considered that maybe her mind had snapped and maybe she was still dreaming. 

She set the flowers on the table, and offered her unexpected guest a towel and some of her father’s old work clothes before excusing herself.

Jane dried her long, soft curls and changed into a fresh set of clothes- a tan shirt and yellow skirt, finished with a dark leather belt. Her intention was to look informal and boring; she didn’t want him to get the wrong idea...

When she walked out of her room, she found Kristopher handsomely dressed, and sitting comfortably in an armchair while scratching Clause behind one ear. She noted the dog’s acceptance of her guest and felt a little relieved.

Kristopher looked up as she approached and gave her an appreciative smile as his eyes took her in. It wasn't what she’d wanted, but then, she wasn’t entirely sure what she wanted at this point.

She moved back into the kitchen to pour the coffee, and pull the steaming blueberry pie from the oven. Now she secretly worried that he’d think she was always cooking pies and pastries.

“Thank you,” he said as she placed the tray on a small, wooden table in front of the hearth. She stepped backward into the armchair that sat across from his. “I hope I have not inconvenienced you.”

"Not at all,” she was carefully polite. Jane felt like this conversation would be the equivalent of picking blackberries during a drought: lots of thorns, but maybe not enough berries to make it worth while… Outside, the rain continued to poor unendingly, keeping the two of them trapped together.

“I’m sorry that I left the vay I did, yesterday. I did not vant to scare you, but I vas terrified that I might say the wrong sink.” He paused a moment to search her face, but she remained silent and still. “I vas so excited to discover a voman who vould actually vant to…” he faltered and switched to German for a moment, apparently irritated as he struggled to find the correct words. His hand raised a little, then opened and closed as if trying to grasp the word that eluded him. “Please excuse, I am afraid to say the wrong vords.”

She nodded slightly, but her throat was so tight she couldn’t speak.

“Vat I vant to say: is that I hope very much to see you do these sinks again. I couldn’t sink about anysink else last night, and then all of today…” he finished breathlessly. He searched her face imploringly. Jane felt like her chest was tightening, and her brain was going too slow. He wasn’t behaving like a person should after discovering such a filthy secret. It was too much for her to take in.

“I… don’t know what to say…” she managed after a long pause.

“I would like to vatch you do it again,” he spat out the words like he knew was afraid it was his last chance.

Jane just froze, a forkful of blueberry pie hovered inches from her lips, as she stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Miss Valton! I am… I apologize. I did not mean to offend.” He set his coffee on the table with a small clunk and his face flushed, eyes darting uncomfortably between his knees and her face.

“That’s not the kind of thing you ask a lady,” her voice sounded cool and stiff in her ear. Jane felt as though another person was speaking.

“Most vomen don’t do vat you did,” he spoke solemnly as his eyes held hers, his palms spread imploringly at her. He looked at the floor for a moment as though he’d find an answer there. Jane looked him over, desperately unsure of what to do. Thunder crashed outside and the torrent of rain roared relentlessly against her roof. She couldn’t kick him out, and he seemed sincere enough... She wanted to kick herself for that naïve little part of her that wanted to trust him.

“We,” she swallowed hard- her mouth felt dry, “should eat our pie before it gets cold.” She tried not to wince as the words escaped. His eyes darted back to her, and there was a shift in him.

She hadn't said 'no...' Surprise seemed to flicker across his face. His shoulders relaxed, and the corners of his mustache began to twitch as a small smile fought to escape. Jane felt a shy smile soften her own lips, and the two slowly began to dig into the pie again. The next few minutes ticked by on the clock, the small room filled with the sounds of the raging storm hammering the small wood cabin, timbers creaking, the wind howling, and the soft clink of forks tapping against creamware plates.

The two sat with their thoughts, quietly munching on pie, and sipping their drinks. Jane toyed with an idea or two before asking, “So what brings you to Des Allemandes?”

Kristopher shifted in his seat, and swallowed his mouthful of pie, “I vas a doctor in the Florida Var.”

“Against the Seminoles? Wait... You were a doctor?”

He sipped his coffee, and nodded “Ya.”

“But… why do you work for the post office?”

“I decided to take a break. Once the last battle vas over, I felt no reason to stay in Florida, so I just picked up, and decided to see vere I ended up. I vas passing through, and vent to send a letter to my family, und Her Altman mentioned zat he vas having trouble since ze last postman broke his leg.”

“So what have you been doing for the past four years? Before you reached Des Allemandes, that is.”

“Just traveling, and picking up jobs just to try different things. I haven’t really vanted to settle down anyvhere yet. But vhat about you? How does such a handsome voman manage to stay single?”

Jane shifted uncomfortable in her seat and looked down at her forkful of blueberry filling, “Uh, well. I had my heart set on Stephen Spiel, his family runs the farm down by Cow Bayou, but he took a liking to Abigail…”

“Und who is Abigail?”

“She’s my little sister. Margret is the eldest, she was the smart one, became a teacher, Abigail was pretty and talented, and I was always just ‘Plane Jain’. After Abigail and Stephen married, I realized that no one was going to want an old spinster like me, so I just settled in to take on the farm after my Father.” There was a bit of a stunned pause.

“Not many women are brave enough to work a farm this size by themselves. I’m impressed.” he smiled earnestly.

Jane tried to make her small grimace look like a polite smile. Being a spinster, alone on a farm, was far from the stable lifestyle she’d hoped for as a little girl. With the long drought and mounting debt, she was keenly aware that she was just one small mishap away from tragedy. At least they were getting rain now; that was one ray of hope.

They ate in silence for a little longer, until Jane asked if he would like another serving, or more coffee. Kristopher politely declined and since the rain didn't look like it would let up anytime soon, asked where he might be able to sleep. She showed him to her father’s room, the bedding untouched since she’d managed to pull herself together some weeks after the funeral. When he thanked her and shut the door behind him. She cleaned up, quietly crept to the fire place, taking the rifle to bed with her, just in case, then locked herself and Clause in her room.

Jane sat on the bed for a while with Clause draped heavily over her lap as she rubbed his belly. She felt surprisingly calm, and slowly a smile crept across her face as she realized how amazingly lucky she’d been. She was out of the woods; he wouldn’t give her away… but he wanted to see her fuck Clause. Was that some kind of deal? Would she be forced to keep up her end of the bargain? Was it even a bargain if she hadn’t agreed? He hadn’t made it sound like a demand, but by the way he’d said it, it was very clear that he was serious.

She rubbed and scratched Claus’s belly thoughtfully. His tail wagged, and his tongue lolled upside down out of the corner of his mouth. Jane’s mind reeled a little, but when she remembered that strange dream she’d had, the one with everyone in town watching her, she felt herself grow a little wet. Could she do something like that in real life?

Kristopher wasn’t the whole, town; he was just one man- and one that actually *wanted* to see. He was probably the only person who wouldn’t condemn her, but she was also aware that he could easily overpower her if the urge struck. Wisps of that dream started to come back to her- the sensations, the humiliation.

Why was her body reacting like this? Her nipples were hard as rock, and she could feel the sensation between her legs begin to nag at her. Despite it really only having been a day, it felt like years since she'd last been worry-free enough to feed her 'little' addiction.

She couldn’t stop herself; she changed into her nightgown and slid into bed. She wouldn’t fuck Clause tonight. She knew there was no way she could keep quiet if she did that. Instead she pulled open the drawer and pulled out five long ivory candle sticks.

Then, hidden safely under the sheets, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Thoughts of the dream floated back to her, being held down, and fucked in front of so many people. Her nipples brushed against the fabric of her clothes, her fingers tested the slick goo between her legs. She inspected the clear string that connected her finger and thumb, then sucked her fingers clean, relishing the flavor. She slid the first candle stick inside herself, and shut her eyes, trying to imagine Kristopher watching.

The sensation of the first candle stick sliding effortlessly between her lips made her wriggle her hips with pleasure. A smile tugged at her lips, as she started to work the second stick alongside the first, and before she knew it, she was rhythmically pounding them in and out, working them deeper. She tried to imagine him watching from the side, her breathing became heavy, and she grabbed a third candle stick. She tried to imagine his surprise when he discovered what a loose slut she really was.

As the long, smooth stick pushed up against her labia, nudging them out of the way and thrusting rhythmically deeper, the Kristopher in her imagination took a small move closer. She froze, and the breath caught in her throat. What if he wanted a closer look? Her hips began to move more slowly as her thoughts took a turn towards the what-ifs. Jane decided to be bold and brave in this fantasy, as if practicing to see how far she’d have the nerve to let things go, if she might actually be able to let Kristopher see.

The fourth candle stick began to force the other three apart as she pushed it in. As the phantom stood watching her, she noticed that she seemed a little more moist than usual. The candle sticks slipped against each other causing her to twitch slightly as little shocks of pleasure shot through her. In her mind, Kristopher moved closer. She paused, and felt a slight thrill.

Willing him to walk closer until he was only a yard away, she forced herself to continue, spreading her legs a little for the hazy figure to inspect her more clearly. And then, she added a fifth candle stick.

At first it resisted, but as she rocked her hips, pushing her opening against the rounded end, it nudged the others out of the way and she gasped as her little collection began to stretch her. As she imagined him standing above her, she noticed that she felt a little more excited than usual. She found herself thinking about his touch, but she didn’t want that...

His shape moved quickly then; he was suddenly on top of Jane, holding her down, one hand gripping tightly around her neck. The thought sent a whirlwind of panic and arousal right down to her curled toes. Part of her wanted to stop the fantasy, she shouldn’t be… indulging something like this, but her hands continued pumping the candle sticks in and out of her loose, sloppy hole.

Her hips rammed hard against them so that they pounded her deeper inside. Jane felt powerless in his strong grip, she could feel the heat of his body pressing close, and she couldn’t help but want him to just take her right then and there. She wanted him to force his way into her, right alongside the candle sticks, to feel his member stretch her until her opening ached and then keep stretching her till she couldn’t stand it anymore. Eyes closed, she gasped for breath. She felt his hands clasping her wrists together bruisingly hard. She felt herself fighting and struggling, his teeth in her shoulder, his hot breath on her neck as he took all control from her, doing with her as he pleased.

Some small part in the back Jane’s mind screamed at her to stop. She shouldn’t be thinking anything like this. She should be terrified; not groping in the top of her drawer for a sixth candle stick.

A moment later, she found it and managed to push the soft, waxy rod in, gasping aloud as she imagined it was his hard cock forcing its way into her. One hand held the sticks in place as she slid the second up under her clothes. When she began to grope and massage her breasts, she imagined that it was Kristopher’s hand.

Silently she begged him to stop, screamed and pounded at his chest, till he held down her wrists above her head. He ran his warm mouth down her neck, nibbled her shoulder and where her hand played with her nipple, she imagined his mouth sucking hard and mercilessly. Every thrust of the candle sticks forced wave after wave of pleasure over her as she felt the mass of wax further stretching out her already permanently loose, wrecked hole. God, it'd been too long. For a girl as deeply addicted to that loose, stretched feeling as she was, even a day without felt like an eternity.

Panting sharply, her thrusts came with increasing desperation, her pelvis uncontrollably thrusting back, until finally her muscles clenched and a massive, long overdue orgasm tore though her. Turning and pushing her face deeply into the pillow, she tried to hold it in, but couldn't, and let out a content groan of pleasure.

“Shit,” she whispered to herself, and covered her face with her palm. That wasn’t supposed to happen. What if Kristopher had heard? Would he know what that sound was? Jane felt her face grow warm, but the warmth between her legs and glowing up through her belly was stronger, and definitely better. She ground her hips down on the sticks, savoring the last tingles of orgasm before they faded. Then her thoughts turned to what she’d just done. She’d brought her gun to bed to make sure he wouldn’t rape her- so what the fuck was she masturbating to the idea of him raping her for? It made no sense! Jane pulled out the candle sticks and thoughtfully sucked each one clean, enjoying the soft, delicate flavor, and gooey texture.

Clause groaned under the bed as he shifted and stretched in his sleep.

What if she’d cracked? Was insanity setting in after living alone for too long? Jane wondered if she could trust herself after such a strange compulsion. What if she really did let him watch? What if he did try something? She could always tuck a knife into the back of her skirt... He’d never see it, but it would be there if she needed to get away quickly... The drawer made a quiet thud as she closed it, her candles safely inside. The pillow was soft and welcoming, as she settled into it, her eyes suddenly heavy from the lingering orgasm. A sigh escaped her, and the last though in her head was that if he was going to force her to let him watch, she was at least going to be ready for his attack.

 

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