The Rodeo

       

       Margaret made a pitiful noise, sounding more like a scared calf more than she thought possible.  Mayor Rufus laughed and turned to Sheriff Adams, “I wonder what Stevens would say if he he could see his little princess now!”

       Sheriff Adams laughed and reached out and grabbed her chin.  “Who knows, maybe he got tired of her smart mouth and did this on purpose!” 

       Margaret pulled away from his grip and spit it the Sheriff's face.  Mayor Rufus laughed, “I guess she didn't like that...” 

       The handler grabbed her by the hair and twisted one of her arms roughly behind her back.  The Sheriff wiped her spit off his face, chuckling and nodding as he did.  The handler pushed her up against the fence so that her face was only inches from the Sheriff's.  Then, without warning, the Sheriff spit a huge glob of tobacco on her chest.  The ugly glob splattered up on her cheeks and down on her belly.  She recoiled, gasping, at least she could still gasp like a girl.  She reached up and tried to wipe the sticky stuff off her, but only succeeded in spreading the mess over her already filthy flesh. 

       The handler and the other two men laughed and laughed as she started to cry.  “What's the matter, bitch!”  The Sheriff asked mockingly, “Don't you like your new makeup?” 

       “That's it,” the Mayor said firmly, “I'm betting on this one!  She'll make it a minute I'm sure!”         

       “This scrawny little thing?”  The Sheriff shook his head, grinning.  “God, I knew she was small but look at her little titties dance...”  He reached ouch and squeezed her left breast a few times like her was honking a bike horn.  “Aw...not even a handful!  See?” 

       The Mayor reached over the fence and grabbed her other breast, first pinching her nipple and then grabbing the whole thing.  “Goddamn, you're right!  I don't matter though.  I'm still betting on this little bitch though!” 

       Margaret stood there and bawled as she tried to free herself from their cruel grips.  She'd never been touched like that before and she was completely mortified to hear them discussing her bust. 

       “Suit yourself!”  The Sheriff said, finally letting go of her and walking down the line.  “I'm gonna bet on a winner!”

       The Mayor laughed and let her go.  “I'll say hello to your Daddy for you...” He hesitated, reached out and pulled on her ear tag and then wrote something on his pad.  “Lil' Bit!”

       The handler brought her back to the line, where she stood sobbing and struggling not to cover herself for fear of the handler hurting her.  Several more times she was grabbed and trotted over to the fence.  Men ranging from farmers and ranches dressed in sweat darkened straw hats and soiled overalls to those who looked like bankers in well-tailored suits, fine derby's, and shinny wingtips all wanted to get a better look it seemed.  Margaret struggled in her handler's grasp, but to no avail.  One man, an old wrinkled farmer, jammed a gnarled finger into her mouth and felt around.

       “She still got all her teeth?”  She asked the handler.

       The handler turned Margaret around and forced her mouth open quiet easily, “Yeah, buddy, she does, see?”  He turned her back around, his hand still holding her small mouth open. 

       “Look at those teeth!”  He remarked to his friends, who were all bent and old like him.  Through tear filled eyes, she could see that there might have been ten teeth between all of them. 

       All in all, the men seemed very interested in her chest and her “womanhood” as her mother had taught her to call it.  For ever man who asked, the handler kicked her legs apart, and pushed her up against the fence.  Then the men would crouch down and give her a real good look.  Margaret was thankful that she could not look down and see their faces as they examined her.  Thankfully, unlike her breasts, which were, by then, tender and starting to bruise, they didn't feel the need to tug on or even to touch period.  Though one did get very uncomfortably close, his hot breath brushing her sensitive skin and making her writhe in the handlers hands. 

       Finally, after what seemed like all day, but in fact must have only been an hour or two, the men left and the girls were left to their own devices for short awhile.  In the midst of her own heavy crying she could see that all of them were crying.  Again, the collective sound of so many girls producing their strange half-human, half-animal whine set Margaret's teeth on edge, but she joined in herself, adding to the din.  What could she do now if the law and the government where in on this twisted enterprise?  She still had to try to escape, but now, she really had no idea where to go.  She was all alone in the world, but surly someone out there help her.  Margaret kept tying to stop crying, but couldn't.  She had to keep a clear head or they'd already won. 

       A short time later they were fed again.  Margaret, suddenly feeling very hungry ate her feed and drank her milk reluctantly.  She tried to think of Christmas dinner, but without much success, and buried her face in the trough and then sucked on the rubber nipple like a hungry baby.  It still tasted awful, but she needed her strength if she was going to escape.

       While wiping her face clean after she'd been release from the “feeding hole” as she came to think of it, she looked over at the arena and saw that the stands were full of people.  Somewhere in that direction she could hear the crackle of a P.A. system and then a powerful voice.

       “Welcome, gentlemen, to the fifth bi-annual Exclusive Rodeo!” 

       The assembled crowd cheered, hooted and hollered for several moments before the announcer continued. 

       “Before we'd begin I'd like to take this opportunity to thank all of our investors, most notably, Mayor Wayne Rufus for giving funds and giving us a place to hold this great event!” 

       Cheers erupted from the crowd again. 

       “Now, the rules are unchanged since our last event, so riders are expected to follow them to the letter.  Failure to follow the rules will result in disqualification and total forfeiture of the entry fee.  So, please, gentlemen, win within the rules, and go home smiling!” 

       There were more cheers, peppered with rambunctious laughter. 

       “Gentlemen....let the games begin!” 

       The final set of cheers were deafening even from a distance.  Margaret clutched her ears and turned around.  The handlers had come into the pin while she and the other girls had their backs turned and were too distracted to notice their entry because they had been listening to the announcer.  They grabbed the girl with number one painted on her back and hauled her out.  Margaret watched as the girl was dragged across the open ground toward the arena. 

       A few moments later she heard the announcer's voice again, “Up first we have Bessy, a lovely, big-titted calf!”  There was a pause.  “Gentlemen...are you ready?”  There was another pause.  “Go!” 

       The air was suddenly full of sounds.  There were several loud clanks, followed by the roar of the crowd and the sound of hoof beats against the dirt floor.  For about a little over, thirty seconds Margaret guessed, there were ripples of cheers through the crowd, and then suddenly all the men in the stands roared louder than they ever had before. 

       The announcer's voice came on again.  “Forty-three seconds!  The prize goes to Mr. Mike Murphy!”  Cheers and boos intermingled into a generally discordant noise, like a pack of coyotes.

       Even before the announcer had finished speaking, they were dragging the next girl, Margaret could only assume the girl with the number two on her back.  The same series of noises commenced minutes after she disappeared, with the one exception being the time (forty-one seconds) and her name, which was simply, Daisy.   If they were just going down the line, she would be next.  But next for what?  They were in a rodeo arena and all the girls were being referred to as and treated as cattle.  Margaret had visions of the rodeo she'd watched....Surely they weren't actually doing this.  It didn't make any sense to her young mind at all.  

       One by one girls were marched out of the pen and toward the arena.  The announcer would introduce the girl, there would be a commotion, followed by cheers and boos and then a short period of relative quiet.  They'd gone through six girls.  The girl before her, Buttercup, had lasted a whole fifty seconds, the apparent record for the day.  Margaret started shaking even before she head the handlers coming.  She was next.  Whatever had happened to all the others before her was going to happen to her. 

       When she felt the handlers' hands on her shoulders her stomach immediately seized up.  She felt light headed and suddenly had the strange salty taste in the back of her mouth like she always got when she was about to throw up.  She went without fighting.  She was too distracted trying to keep her breakfast down to struggle and what was the point?   

       They led her to a short chute with a solid gate she couldn't see through. 

       “Our next calf is a darling little number, named Lil' Bit!”  She heard the announcer's voice boom. 

       She was suddenly aware of how hard she was breathing.  Her body prickled with goosebumps.  Maybe they'd do her a favor and just shoot her the moment she came the gate and put her out of her misery.  No...she had to think positive.  She had to face whatever came, she couldn't let them win.  Margaret felt something light fall on her bare shoulder.  Looking down she saw that it was a peanut shell.  She looked up and saw a man smirking at her from the top back row of the stadium.  In fact there were a lot of men sitting up there staring at her.  The man kept tossing shells on her and smirking and smirking. 

       This distracted her from fully hearing the announcer say, “Riders ready?”  Several things happened at once after that.  The gate slammed open causing her heart to jump into her throat.  The announcer yelled “Go!” startling her further.  Finally, the handler behind her shoved a cattle prod through the fence behind her and delivered a shock at least twice as bad as any she'd received before to her pert rear end.  All of this in conjunction caused her to cry out in, well, there was no other way for her to think of it except like a scared calf, and run straight ahead without thinking. 

       Suddenly she was awash in the cheers and jeers of the large crowd of men.  She'd thought they were too loud before.  Now in the middle of them and the object of their scorn and amusement she felt like a tiny bug under a microscope.  All she wanted to do was fall down and burrow into the ground like a mole, but that thought had barely crossed her mind when she saw six gates on the far end of the arena open and six men on horseback come riding out straight for her.

       Squealing, Margaret turned and tried to get back in the chute, but found the gate closed behind her.  With no alternative she bolted to her left along the edge of the arena, her tiny breasts bouncing as she ran as fast and as hard as she could, barely aware of the whistling and the lewd comments coming from the audience.  She'd never been an athletic girl, but for some reason she found that she had more energy and more speed than ever before.  It was probably just adrenaline, but somehow, this felt different. 

       Still running, the small girl chanced a look over her should at the horse that was fast approaching her.  The man on it's back had a lasso out and was twirling the rope over his head.  Yes, dear Lord, she was in a calf tying competition.  Why did she deserve this?  When she'd gone to the rodeo she'd felt sorry for the calves who were forced to take part.  She may not of been much of a help around the farm, but she tried to be a good daughter.  So, what had she done to deserve this cruel treatment?

       Margaret put on more speed and turned her gaze forward only to see another man on horseback waiting for her.  She squeaked again and turned to run through the middle of the arena.  Only to realize, too late, that there was yet another rider waiting in that direction too.  The rope was around her waist before she had time for another thought.  The man yanked on the rope hard, forcing her forward.  She landed face first in the loose dirt, getting a mouthful in the process.

       She came up coughing and tried to get to her hands and knees to crawl away, but the man was already on top of her.  He slammed her back down making her take another mouthful of dirt in the process.  He held her quite firmly, even more so than the handlers.  Margaret felt rough, prickly rope against her wrists and ankles.  He must have had tied them together, because suddenly she felt all of her limbs suddenly being brought painfully together.  Her joints cramped and cried out, but still he tightened.  Before she realized fully what had happened her wrists and ankles were tied securely together behind her back.  She'd been hogtied!

       “Roger, you lucky bastard!”  Margaret heard one of the other riders say as he approached them.  “I sure would have liked to have gotten this one!”

       The man who'd just roped her, Roger, just laughed.  “Got lucky I guess!”

       Margaret started crying, the humiliation and the pain had finally gotten to her.  Nothing could be worse than this, she thought.  She'd hit rock bottom.  She was crying so hard that she didn't even hear her mediocre time called out.

       After the announcer had finished, she felt Roger's hands on her ropes.  He picked her up and carried her through a side gate and a short distance away from the arena.  The pain was unbearable as all her weight settled on her wrists and ankles.  She cried out pitifully.  Luckily she only had to endure her pain for a short while.  Roger stopped and untied her.  Margaret thankfully moved her arms and legs into a more comfortable position.

       “Get on your hands and knees, Lil' Bit.”  He said. 

       She wanted to yell, “My name is Margaret you bastard!”  But knew it would only come out as a whine.  She instead got up on her hands and knees like Roger ordered as he tied a rope to the thicker one around her neck. 

       “Come on...” He said, yanking her forward.     

        Margaret hung her head and as they passed by several men, the bell around her neck announcing her presence with every step.   

       “Nice, catch Roger!”  One said.

       “That's a first rate piece of ass!”  Another said.

       When they reached a beat up old farm truck that might have been red once, Roger stopped. 

       “Leaving already, Roger?  I can't blame you really.  See you around!”  Still another man said as he passed by. 

       In one fluid movement, Margaret felt herself being lifted from the ground.  Roger set her in the  truck rusty bed and smiled at her.  It was the first time she got a good look at him.  He was a tanned, leathery man, in his mid to late forties, about six feet tall, with a thick bristly mustache that turned down, giving her the impression that he was frowning even while he was smiling at her and showing the large gold mounted in the front of his mouth.  He was about her father's age, and looked like he'd also seen the same amount of hard work too.   

       He retied her wrists and ankles together, but this time in front of her so that she was more comfortable.  Her mind told her to resist, but her body was too tired.  Margaret just accepted the fact that things couldn't possibly get any worse.  Once he was done tying her, he took the rope he'd led her to the truck with and tied it to a bar behind the truck's cab. 

       “Wouldn't want you bouncing out, now would we?”  He mumbled to no one in particular.  Then he took a scratchy burlap cover, which looked like it was made up of feed sacks that had been haphazardly stitched together, and covered her with it. 

       “Keep the sun off ya...and the questions off me, eh?” 

       She felt him stack a few heavy things around the edges of cover and then heard him get into the cab.  The engine croaked to life.  Margaret tested her bonds once.  There was no way should could free herself.  Struggling just seemed to make the ropes tighter so she gave up.    

       It was stifling under the burlap!  Sweat poured down her body as her mind raced with questions.  Where was she going?  What was this Roger going to do to her?  How long did he mean to keep her like this?  As the truck started down the dusty road, Margaret cried and whined, the air under the cover becoming warmer with each panicked breath. 

       Someone would find her before they got to where they were going!  They had to.  Someone would find her.  Wouldn't they?