Kidnapped bride
Peter Jensen
Rear window series 221


CHAPTER ONE

"I'm sorry honey, but there's nothing I can do about it."
 
Susan Jameson sat at the small telephone table in the front hallway
of the attractive suburban Chicago home she shared with Tim, her young
husband, and listened anxiously, the phone pressed against her ear, while
Tim informed her he wouldn't be coming home that Friday night because of an
unexpected airline strike.
 
"It all happened at the last minute," he was saying, "the ground
crews just walked off the job, and the pilots are supporting them. So until
it's settled, nothing flies out of Boston. Believe me, if there were any
way I could get back tonight., I'd do it."
 
"What about the trains?" his young wife inquired nervously.
 
"Trains are impossible, you know that, honey. It'd take at least two
days. No, I'm just going to have to sit it out in Boston until it's
settled. They're negotiating now apparently, so it could be settled any
time, but the grapevine says probably not before Sunday night. To tell you
the truth, I can use the time to make contacts with some of the guys here.
Some of the top insurance people on the East Coast are hanging around the
hotel, and if I can make a good impression, I may be able to pull off a
promotion when I get back."
 
"Oh, Tim, I was really looking forward to seeing you this weekend.
You've been working so hard lately, we've scarcely had any time together.
And I wanted to to make up for what happened before you left."
 
There was a short silence over the phone, and Susan waited anxiously
for her husband to reply. They had had a violent quarrel just before he'd
left for the convention on Monday, culminating in a brutal sexual
encounter. It was a scene that had left a bad strain on their three-month
marriage, and the pretty young housewife was desperate to smooth things
over with her young spouse.
 
"It's it's okay," he said finally. "I was drunk and feeling low I
never should have said those things or done those things to you. I'm
sorry, honey."
 
"Oh, Tim," Susan said, biting nervously at her lip and struggling to
keep the tears from erupting from her eyes. "I'm sorry too I haven't been
a good wife to you, I know that. But I'm trying. Please be patient with me,
darling I get so so frightened."
 
"There's nothing to be frightened of, honey. Look, you just relax
tonight, and I'll call you tomorrow afternoon and let you know how things 
are going here. With any luck they'll settle this thing soon. Meanwhile,
you just take it easy, okay?"
 
"Okay I'll do my best."
 
"Oh, and if you get a chance, call that kid from down the street 
you know, the Carson boy  and, have him mow the law and rake up a little.
I was going to do it this weekend, but since this strike's come up I won't
have a chance."
 
"I don't think the Carsons are home they went on vacation this
month."
 
"Oh damn. Well, hell, just leave the yard as it is and I'll get to it
sometime. Look, I'd better hang up now and see what's happening. You just
take things easy, all right? We'll straighten everything out when I get
home."
 
"All right all right darling. I love you."
 
"I love you too, Susan. And I'll call you tomorrow afternoon. Take
care of yourself."
 
"I will. You too"
 
"Okay good-bye."
 
"Good-bye."
 
The young wife listened numbly as her husband hung up the phone in
his Boston hotel room. She had wanted badly for him to be with her that
weekend, so that they could patch up the terrible rift that was growing
between them. Now he might not be home until Sunday night and she would
have to spend that time alone with her anxieties and fears. With a deep
sigh she rose from the chair and walked into the living room to find her
cigarettes.
 
As the troubled bride passed the hallway mirror, she stopped
momentarily to look at herself. At nineteen, she was an exceptionally
attractive young woman with light brown hair that flowed softly around her
shoulders in a page-boy style and framed the delicately molded features of
her face. She had hazel eyes that sparkled like diamonds, a pert nose that
turned up slightly and full, sensual lips tinged a bright pink. Her facial
complexion was as clear as white Carrara marble, and her cheeks glowed with
a natural rosy bloom.
 
She was dressed that day in a light summer frock of bright yellow
that clung snugly to her full upthrust breasts, tapered down to her tiny
narrow waist, then flared out in a wide circle around the slender
shapeliness of her legs. Although the garment was of modest design, it in
no way concealed the fact that she was a very well proportioned young
female, with a petite but spectacularly curvaceous figure that never failed
to win attentive male glances when she walked down the street. Yet,
strangely, she eyed herself with contempt as she gazed at her reflection in
the mirror. The young wife didn't like getting so much attention from men.
It made her uncomfortable and tense when they whistled at her, as if she
were some kind of freak. Her ample breasts seemed to jut forward in almost
obscene swells, no matter how demurely she dressed herself. And yet the 
troubled young girl knew that she should be proud of her figure, pleased at
the admiring glances it elicited, but she was possessed by a terrible
paradox, a paradox born of her childhood training.
 
"The Lakeside Orphanage for Young Girls," she murmured aloud as she
stood before the mirror. Her mind flashed suddenly back to the childhood
days when she had been sent to the huge institution outside Chicago after
her parents were killed in an automobile crash. She was only five years old
then, and she had hated the cold gray building from the moment she had
first seen it. An icy chill rippled through her body as scene after scene
of life in the orphanage where she had spent her entire girlhood invaded
her mind with vivid clarity. Being forced to get up early on freezing
winter mornings, standing in line in the drab cafeteria with a metal tray
waiting for a bowl of thick tasteless oatmeal, boring classes, endless
chores and worst of all, she remembered, the pinch-faced bitter old
maiden-ladies who ran the place. Particularly Miss Whitfield  Miss
Whitfield who took such pains to lecture the girls on sexuality as they
approached adolescence, warning them of the dangers and heartache that came
from love with a man.
 
"If you marry, girls," she would say, "you must be very careful. Men
can be beasts, filthy beasts with nothing but carnal lust on their minds,
and a lady, a real lady, never submits to such things. It is your duty, of
course, to procreate. That is the burden that God has given to women. But
you must never let yourself be touched by animal sensuality or let the man
know you enjoy it in any way, or you will burn in the fires of hell as
surely as I'm standing before you. I have never married, and I am proud of
that fact. I hope you girls will follow my example and take up meaningful
social work instead of flinging yourselves into the arms of drooling filthy
men."
 
Although the young wife knew in the back of her mind that Miss
Whitfield and the other women were overly frustrated and that their
attitude toward sex and men was wrong, those early lectures had had a
tremendous effect on her. Night after night in her narrow boarding school
bed she had had terrible nightmares about men men who were intent on
raping her, grinning lewdly, leering like degenerate madmen, ripping her
clothes from her body! She woke up crying and screaming from such horrible
dreams more times than she cared to remember and, as a result, her fears
were cemented deep in her unconscious now, so deep that she found, after
three months of marriage to Tim, that she might never be able to break
through them.
 
Tearing herself away from the mirror, she moved into the living room
to the coffee table where an opened pack of cigarettes lay amid the neatly
stacked magazines. Sitting on the couch, she lit one and leaned back,
inhaling deeply, trying to relax and ignore the tormenting thoughts that
ran through her brain. There was a photograph on the coffee table of her
and Tim on their wedding day, and the pretty young wife gazed adoringly at
the image of the attractive slender young man she had married.
 
He was tall, nearly six feet, with a lithe muscular body and a rugged
handsome face topped with thick sandy-colored hair. His eyes were deep
blue, blue as clear lake water, and there was a gentleness in his
expression that she had loved from the minute she first saw him at the
insurance office where she had gone to work as a secretary soon after
leaving the Lakeside Home. To the naive young girl, Tim Jameson seemed like
a prince from a story book, gentlemanly and courteous, nothing at all like
what Miss Whitfield had said, and she had found herself falling hopelessly
in love with him. Within a year they were married, and it seemed to Susan
like a dream come true. Tim made a good salary at the company, and they
were able to move into their beautiful suburban home right away. After the
spare, ugly environment of the orphanage, having her own house was like a
gift from the gods. She had taken great pains to furnish it just like the
pictures she saw in the magazines, spending hours selecting the right
furniture and accessories. Now she let her eyes wander over the
attractively designed living room, lingering over the colonial chairs and
tables, the little figurines she had purchased, the vases of flowers, the
pictures on the wall. Everything was neat as a pin and perfectly arranged,
just the way she liked it. She was happy here. She liked being surrounded
by such lovely things. Her life was almost perfect except except for one
thing.
 
The attractive young housewife took another deep puff on her
cigarette and then leaned back against the sofa and shut her eyes, trying
to blot out the ugly feelings that suddenly surged forward from her
subconscious. She remembered the afternoon before Tim had left for Boston,
Monday afternoon, when he had raped her yes, raped her in the cruelest
manner possible. Her petite frame shuddered from head to foot as she once
more saw her young husband lurching angrily toward her, stark naked, his
his huge penis angrily erect and leering at her like a menacing vision of
obscenity. She hated the way it looked. It was ugly and shameful. She had
always begged him to turn out the lights when he wanted to to take her.
But that afternoon he had been drinking  oh, it wasn't his fault, she knew
 they had been quarreling for two days and he was frustrated with her
constant fears.
 
"Oh God," she murmured, as hot tears began to trickle down her
cheeks. "Why does it have to be like this? Why is it so awful? So
shameful?"
 
She loved Tim, loved him with a passion that nearly overwhelmed her
at times. He was so handsome so loving. Sometimes when she was alone, just
thinking about him would make the skin along her arms tingle excitedly and
her loins would grow strangely warm, as if a tiny fire had started there.
And sometimes, though she tried desperately to resist it when it happened,
her vagina would grow involuntarily moist so moist sometimes that the thin
material of her nylon panties would grow damp from the mysterious secretion
that flowed from the aching walls of her private interior. Yet, whenever
this happened, she grew frigid with fear, and the words of Miss Whitfield 
would roar at her from inside her head  fierce warnings against "carnal
lust" so strong that the tips of her fingers would grow immediately cold as
ice.
 
The troubled young wife knew in her heart that it was wrong to react
like that. She had read enough to know that sex could be a beautiful,
wonderful experience between a man and a woman. But sometimes Tim wanted to
do strange things to her, even even put his lips to her her vagina and
lick it with his tongue! Though her conscious nature told her there was
nothing to fear, an increasingly deep sense of shame and humiliation washed
over her now when they made love.
 
In the beginning it hadn't been so bad, and even though she had lain
in near total passivity while her young husband made love to her, Tim had
seemed to be satisfied. He said she was the most beautiful woman he had
ever known, and he didn't care if it took her a while to break through her
fears, because she was worth it. Yet things had gotten worse, not better,
and lately he had begun to demand the more she resisted until, after two
months, she shook with fright whenever sex was mentioned. She had even gone
to a doctor, a medical doctor, to see if there wasn't something wrong with
her. He had been kind, and talked of relaxation and letting yourself
experience pleasure and of orgasm  something she had never known. She had
felt nothing of what he had described, and now she was afraid she never
would, thanks to Miss Whitfield. She knew if she could just let go
completely, she might be able to break through her anxiety, but she just
didn't know how.
 
And time was running out. She had never seen Tim as angry with her as
he was that Monday. They hadn't had sex for a week, and he'd wanted to make
love before leaving for Boston. She had wanted to oh, she had wanted to
desperately, but Sunday night she had begun to cry pitifully when he
touched her, and they had quarreled. The next morning, Tim had started
drinking wine as he packed his suitcase for the plane trip, angrily
muttering to himself. Susan was shocked to see him drinking so early and
fully realized the extent of his frustration for the first time. She had
gone into the bedroom to try and calm him down, but they had quarried
again, and then then
 
The young wife held her breath as she sat on the couch in the living
room and vividly remembered the terrible scene that had taken place. She
could hardly believe it had actually happened, but it had, and the memory
of it haunted her now like an obscene hallucination. Monday ten o'clock in
the morning when she went into the bedroom


 
"Christ almighty," Tim Jameson mumbled to himself as he clumsily
jammed a small suitcase full of clothes for his impending trip to Boston.
"I've got the most beautiful wife in the world and I can't lay a goddamn
hand on her! Three months of marriage and it seems like three years. Hell,
I'm half-drunk and it's only ten o'clock!"
 
His quarrels with Susan over her frigidity had been coming more and
more frequently lately, and the previous evening, when he had tried once
more to make love to her, she had responded like a scared little girl,
crying hysterically and freezing up like cold stone. Her young husband was
tired of placating her now, tired of listening to a million excuses and
tearful references to her girlhood at the orphanage. He needed release  a
full sexual male release  soon or he'd go crazy with the inner tension.
 
"Maybe she needs to see a damn psychiatrist or something," he
growled, throwing some socks into his suitcase, "or maybe I do. Hell, if I
don't need one now I will soon at the rate I'm going." He paused for a
moment and went to the nightstand next to the bed and took a deep swallow
from the half-full glass of red wine he had left there. He sighed as the
potent liquid coursed down his throat. Although he didn't like the idea of
drinking so much so early, he had to admit it relaxed him and gave him the
strength he needed to cope with his mounting marital problems. "Maybe I'll
end up being one of those suburban alcoholics," he mused bitterly, "just
like the old man Carson down the street, half drunk all the time. Ah, who
gives a damn anyway."
 
He stiffened noticeably as he heard the bedroom door open. He knew it
was Susan, and he could feel his inner tension begin to mount again rapidly
as she entered the room. Keep hold of yourself, man, he cautioned himself,
knowing he was growing quite drunk. Don't say anything you'll be sorry for.
 
"Are are you finished packing?" his young wife asked timidly as she
approached the bed. "Can I help with anything?"
 
"No no, I'm fine just fine," he muttered in a low voice, avoiding
looking at her.
 
"You've you've been drinking," Susan said nervously as she eyed the
half-filled glass of wine on the nightstand.
 
"Yeah, I've been drinking." Tim struggled to keep his composure, but
he was well aware of the thinly disguised note of disapproval in her voice.
Goddamn uptight bitch.
 
"Tim, it's not good to drink so early in the day don't you think"
 
"No, I do not think," he said abruptly, cutting her off mid-sentence.
"I just need a drink to relax me, that's all. God knows I'm entitled to it
after what you've put me through."
 
"Tim," Susan exclaimed, her eyes watering with hot tears, "don't say
that. I know it hasn't been easy, but I'm trying, you've got to believe
that."
 
He wanted to believe her, he wanted to once again take her in his
arms and comfort her and tell her everything was all right, that he could
wait as long as necessary for her to get over her anxieties. But he knew it
would be a lie. He was sick and tired of waiting, sick and tired of having
no sexual outlet, tired of being the dutiful husband. He glanced at her.
The look in her eyes was pitiful, like a lost child begging for help. How
could he be angry with her when she looked like that? He couldn't, for the
plain fact was that he still loved her, loved her so deeply that it made 
his frustration all the more difficult to bear.
 
"Oh, honey, I'm sorry," he said finally. "I just don't know what to
do anymore. The job's got me down, the bills are piling up I'm going
crazy, I guess."
 
She looked so vulnerable standing next to him, so forlorn and scared
that the handsome young husband was surprised to find himself suddenly
enfolding her supple form in his arms and embracing her tenderly.
 
"Tim oh, Tim darling," she whispered as she pressed her head against
his muscular chest. "I don't want you to go away angry at me. I love you so
much."
 
"And I love you too, honey" The scent of her perfume filled his
nostrils like a potent aphrodisiac, heightened because of his wine-sodden
state. How good it was to hold her close like this and to feel the firmly
rounded mounds of her breasts pressed against his lithe body. His arms
circled her petite frame and, to the tipsy young husband, it was like
holding a delicious bundle of female delight in his arms. It would be so
nice, he thought, so nice to have a really good fuck before I leave. He
wanted to take her to the heights of pleasure and burst through the wall of
defensiveness and fear that kept her locked in her tower of terror.
 
Why not? he thought. Why not try it another time? She seems willing,
and God knows I want her.
 
Slowly he began to increase the ardor of his embrace, to hold her
tighter and kiss her lightly on the hair. Then he took her face in his
hands and with infinite tenderness he bent down and kissed her warm pliant
lips, trying to communicate the love and male passion he felt for his
beautiful bride. To his delight she responded openly, lovingly to his kiss,
and it confirmed his intention to try once more to make love to his
ravishing wife before he left. Slowly, still holding her in an ardent kiss,
he let his hand travel gently down the tapering line of her back until it
came to rest on the curving half-moons of her buttocks, covered by the thin
cotton of her dress. His palm slid across the light material and he became
pleasantly excited as he traced the outlines of her tight panties beneath
the dress encasing her firm rounded ass-cheeks. His passion mounted as
Susan made no attempt to pull away from his sensual caress. His penis began
to stiffen in the tight sports slacks he wore and pressed hotly against his
thigh as it grew thicker and longer by the minute.
 
Susan, although trying desperately to respond lovingly, found herself
again growing tense and alarmed as her young husband rubbed the contours of
her buttocks. She nestled her body against his, still kissing him,
struggling with every ounce of strength at her command to return his warm
caresses in kind, but inside, her mind was a seething torrent of terrifying
images. Vivid pictures of the drooling nightmare-men who raped her in her
childhood dreams once again leered up at her from the murky depths of her
unconscious, and her body began to stiffen with a vast unnameable anxiety.
 
Oh please, she screamed inwardly, please don't let this happen again.
I want to love him, and want to be a good wife!
 
But it was useless. Tim's hand was sliding along her leg now, at the
same time pulling her dress upward. In the next minute he had slipped his
fingers under the hem and was inching them up beneath her dress toward her
panty-covered vagina. She was shaking with fright now, and insect-like
twinges of humiliation seemed to crawl over her skin as her fingers crept
closer and closer to her most private area. She broke the kiss and buried
her face in his chest, trying to keep from screaming in agony. His hand was
getting closer and closer it was crawling up her inner thigh like a
spider, a huge spider! Oh God! It was horrible! Horrible! No nooo!!
 
Involuntarily, the terrified young wife suddenly pulled fiercely away
from her amorous husband, her face twisted into a shrewish expression of
contempt, and in the next moment, without realizing what she was doing, she
slapped Tim full on the face. Her young husband reeled back drunkenly,
utterly surprised.
 
"You bitch!" he shouted, as he recovered his senses, "You Goddamn
bitch!"
 
Susan trembled with terror. She hadn't meant to do that, she hadn't.
It had just happened, completely out of her control. But it was too late
now to figure out why it had happened, for she could see a murderous glint
in her husband's eyes, and she began to back away from him in fear.
 
"Tim, oh Tim, I'm sorry I'm sorry."
 
But her enraged husband was past caring how she felt now. Her sudden
slap had made his alcohol-fogged brain broil with anger. She was making a
fool out of him, a damn fool, and he wasn't going to take it another
minute! He wanted her, and if she wouldn't respond to gentleness, then he'd
try another method. He didn't give a damn now what she thought or how
frightened she was. His cock was aching like thunder in his pants, aching
for triumphant orgasm, and he was going to have it! NOW! Lunging toward
her, he reached out, grabbed her by the arm, and began to pull her roughly
to the bed.
 
"Tim!" she cried, "I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! I didn't!"
 
But her outraged husband only responded with a snarl of animal lust.
His entire body was vibrating with a sadistic mixture of throbbing desire
and seething revenge. Brutally he threw her down on the bed, then fell on
top of her furiously resisting body and began to cover her face and neck
with harsh kisses. As she groaned out her protest, Tim began grinding his
hips into her futilely resisting abdomen. His long thick cock pounded
angrily in his trousers, pulsing like a drum against his thigh. He was
consumed in a torrent of raging barbaric passion, heightened by the excess
of wine and the burning sting he still felt in his cheek where Susan had
slapped him. He was through with waiting now! He was going to fuck the
living daylights out of her, and this time she wouldn't be able to get
away! She was his wife, and he was due his rights as a husband!
 
Cruelly he pressed his searching mouth onto her trembling lips,
kissing her like a frenzied beast while she struggled, helpless beneath
him. Forcing her clenched jaws apart, he suddenly rammed his rigid questing
tongue deep into her mouth, twisting and rotating it lewdly, causing his
squirming young wife to gag. Still pinning her down, he snaked his hand up
between their tightly pressed bodies and began to unbutton the front of her
dress, ripping at whatever buttons would not open easily, and the material
fell away from the front of her body, exposing the brassiere-encased melons
of her breasts. Reaching behind her, he undid the clasp and yanked the
confining garment away from her fearfully twisting body. Her firm young
breasts grew tense and goose pimply as their areolas quivered into agonized
erection under his leering gaze. With a low groan of drunken hunger, he
moved his mouth down to the milk-white pliant mounds and began to
voraciously suck and bite on her nipples while Susan moaned in
terror-ridden helplessness.
 
The touch of her warm sensual body, denied him for so long, sent
spasms of desire surging like hot swords through the young insurance
salesman's hard-muscled frame. He felt he could never get enough of her
full lush breasts, and his gaze shifted avidly from one to the other, while
his tortured young wife sobbed beneath him, pleading for him to stop. But
he was completely deaf to her cries as his sex-denied body crushed down on
her petite frame, pinioning her to the wide double bed while his lips
pulled greedily on her pliant golden flesh.
 
Wave after wave of unbearable shame swept through Susan's trapped
body as the full force of her childhood fears took hold of her! Rapid
images of Miss Whitfield and the bogey-men her vivid imagination had
conjured up for her flashed through her mind and made every part of her
smooth white body cringe in terror and humiliation. She pleaded for Tim to
stop then, seeing it was no use, she clenched her hands to her sides as her
lust-driven husband held her firmly in place and sucked drunkenly at her
glistening breasts. Ripples of searing pain, curiously mixed with a strange
tingling sensation she could not identify, coursed through her chest.
Knowing there was no escape, she gritted her teeth and waited tensely until
her drunken spouse had had his way with her.
 
Tim was shaking now with pent-up desire, and he was taking an almost
sadistic pleasure in the torment he was inflicting on his terrified young
bride. His lewdly working lips slid in one flowing motion from her heaving
breasts down to the pale skin of her abdomen. He ran his tongue snake-like
along the velvety softness of her flesh until his hotly questing mouth
reached the material of her dress where the buttons had ended. He pulled
away from her, his eyes glazed with a demonic mixture of lust and drunken
revenge.
 
"I want to see you naked," he growled thickly.
 
"No, please, Tim, please!" his cowering young wife groaned.
 
But he was not to be stopped. With a snarl of impatience, he reached
out and twisted her body around, at the same time yanking the thin summer
dress from her arms and pulling it roughly off her body until it slid free
of her lithe tapered legs. Susan sobbed in futile resistance, her entire
being quaking now with ice-cold twinges of fear and shame. She lay helpless
on the bed, protected only by the flower-print panties she wore, while Tim
eyed her hungrily. Never taking his eyes from her appetizing form, he
slowly began to remove his own clothes, first unbuttoning his starched
white short-sleeved shirt so that his strong tight-muscled chest and
shoulders were completely naked. Then, tossing the shirt aside, he began to
unbuckle his belt and unzip the snug slacks while his wife watched, her
eyes widened in alarm. Finally, he stepped out of his pants, and stood
before her dressed only in the white cotton shorts that bulged obscenely
from the formidable stiffness of his hardened cock jutting out like the
mast of a ship perpendicular to his loins.
 
The look of fear on his weeping young bride's face only increased his
passion. He was going to take her by force no matter how she protested or
pleaded for mercy! The mere thought of at last satisfying his
long-suppressed sexual needs caused his desire-thickened penis to jerk
frantically against the thin material of his shorts. With a lewd grin at
Susan, he began to pull down his shorts so that the full potency of his
eagerly lurching cock and cum-swollen balls was presented naked to her
frightened gaze. The sight of his hard lusting staff lurching out so
menacingly in full erection made his wife gasp in alarm, and she
instinctively shut her eyes to banish the terrifying sight from her view.
 
Seeing her respond with loathing to the exposure of his virilely
pulsing hardness made Tim even angrier than before. Leaning across her
prostrate form, he reached down and grasped the tight crotch band of her
flowered panties, and with one cloth-shearing tear he yanked the fragile
garment down so that the fearfully trembling mound of her pubic triangle
was revealed defenselessly before him. The sparse cuntal hair shone a
tempting golden-brown and the sight of his wife's creamy nakedness sparked
uncontrollable flames of lust in Tim's hotly burning body. With a few
vicious jerks he pulled the nylon panties down her sleekly contoured legs
while Susan moaned in agony from the sting of the tight elastic scraping
against her smooth flesh. Finally, she was completely naked.
 
"Oh God," she moaned, trying to cover herself with her hands, "Oh
God, help me!"
 
"Shut up, bitch!" Tim snapped drunkenly, tossing the torn panties
aside. "Stop whining! I want a woman for a change, a real woman!"
 
The roused husband grasped his wife's tightly clamped legs and forced
them roughly apart so that the moist pink flesh of her vaginal slit was
revealed to his drunken gaze. With a snarl of animal passion, he lowered
himself onto the bed between her splayed limbs and, spreading the soft
cushions of her vaginal lips apart with his thumbs, he obscenely buried his
face in her defenseless pussy. Abruptly he flicked out his tongue and ran
it wetly up and down the length of her warm perfumed pussy furrow.
 
The shock of this sudden action made Susan jerk back involuntarily in
humiliation. It was unthinkable to her that he could inflict such a thing
upon her, and she tried desperately to squeeze her legs together to prevent
her passion-crazed husband from exploring her private regions so crudely. 
But she was powerless against the onslaught of his alcohol-quickened
desire.
 
Roughly he flicked his tongue up and down her blushing red slit, each
wet assault sending fresh stabs of shame and anxiety throughout Susan's
tortured young body. His eagerly questing mouth soon found the fleshy
little bud of her clitoris, and with salacious relish he began to suck and
bite on that tender nub, trying to make it harden, hoping to rouse his
frigid wife into a state of wild throbbing desire that would match his own.
The little phallus-like button involuntarily grew hard from his insistent
oral probes, yet Susan experienced only a deeper feeling of debasement. She
could not and would not submit to his animalistic attack! It was too
humiliating! She began to resist his attempted rape with more
determination, and suddenly her hands reached down to clutch fiercely at
his sandy-colored hair. She pulled at his locks angrily, wanting to hurt
him for his attempted subjugation of her.
 
Tim howled in pain and pulled away from her, his fury mounting with
volcanic force.
 
"Damn you," he shouted wildly, "Goddamn you, you ice-cold bitch!"
 
His mind seethed with uncontrollable anger now, and the last traces
of tender human sentiment fled his mind. If she was going to pull tricks
like that, treat him like a dog, then he'd show her he had a few tricks of
his own! His massively pulsating cock jerked in excited need for release,
and, with an evil gleam in his eye, the outraged young husband suddenly got
a hard grip on his wife's hips. Almost before she knew what he was doing,
he had roughly forced her to turn over on her stomach. Then he slipped his
forearm under her belly and pulled her loins upward so that his
uncomprehending young wife had to prop herself up on her elbows.
 
Treat me like a dog, huh? Tim thought darkly as he gripped the
throbbing thickness of his frantically lurching cock. Well, baby, two can
play at that game. If I'm a dog, then I'll fuck like one, then maybe you'll
respond like a bitch in heat for a change!
 
His eyes glazed with anger, Tim grabbed the trembling globes of her
buttocks harshly, his fingernails digging into the resilient white flesh,
sending stabs of pain through his wife's naked young body.
 
"Aaaaarrrrgggghhh!!" she screamed, shuddering in agony from head to
foot. "It hurts."
 
"That's nothing, baby, believe me, that's nothing," he snarled down
at her.
 
His mind whirling with rage, he began to trace his middle finger down
the crack between her ass-cheeks and over the tight brown hole of her anus
until it found the firmly clenched entrance to her vagina.
 
A cruel drunken smile of anticipation played across his lips as his
hand slowly began to explore her pussy from behind.
 
Susan shuddered from head to foot, mortified with the overwhelming
shame of her situation. Tim had forced her into the most humiliating
position imaginable, propped on her elbows and knees like a cowering 
pathetic animal. A beast, just like Miss Whitfield had said, a panting,
lustful beast! This was the man she had married! Slowly his extended middle
finger began to worm its way up into her tensely contracted vaginal
passage, and she quivered in trepidation as she felt it burrow inside her
burning cunt. With a gasp of horror, she realized that he was going to take
her this way, from behind, like a drunken savage. In the next second she
cried aloud as Tim shoved his finger all the way inside her dry tight
cuntal depths and began to prod and rotate it mercilessly to lubricate his
entry.
 
"Please stop!" she cried in agony. "Stop! Pleeeeaaasssee!"
 
But Tim was fiercely determined to punish her for keeping him at bay
so long, and he rammed his rigid middle finger hard up into the farthest
recesses of her bruised and aching vagina as his tortured young wife moaned
in pain, beads of perspiration breaking out on her forehead. Desperately
she tried to pull away to escape the pain and humiliation but Tim easily
tugged her back, gripping her tightly by the shoulder with his free hand
while he began to brutally finger-fuck her with the middle finger of his
other hand, in and out, in and out, until finally the tortured walls of her
cunt began to widen and release involuntarily their warm vaginal fluid.
 
Satisfied that she was wet enough, he withdrew his finger from her
vaginal depths and took hold of his huge distended penis, pulling back the
soft foreskin to reveal the red swollen cock-head, and then guided it
carefully between her ass-cheeks until it was poised directly at the tensed
waiting entrance of her cuntal sheath.
 
"Oh Tim," she mewled piteously, "please don't do it, not this way, oh
please!"
 
But it was no use. With a savage cry of passion, the lusty insurance
salesman thrust his hips forward with a vicious jerk, burrowing his eager
cock halfway up his wife's tightly clenched cunt. The force of his scathing
entry sent Susan's body hurtling forward as tears of shame and hurt began
to roll down her hotly flushed cheeks. She was being totally degraded by
her own husband, taken in the most debased manner she could imagine like a
gutter prostitute, forced to kneel before him, helpless to ward off his
drunken intrusion!
 
Tim leered down in glassy-eyed triumph and then lunged forward again
so that his lewdly throbbing penis penetrated up to the hilt into her wet
cringing pussy. Her fiercely tightened vaginal muscles clasped around bis
hard-driving cock in a vain attempt to expel the cruel invader, but it was
totally useless. Slowly, Tim started to fuck her, in and out, each painful
thrust stretching the fear-ridden walls of her pussy wider and wider.
 
Susan hung her head in shame, her light brown hair falling forward
damply over her face as Tim began to drive into her in a steadily
increasing tempo. Her submissively kneeling young body was wracked with an
agonizing mixture of pain and humiliation, and she sobbed in defeat as she
felt his huge swollen balls swinging and slapping against her cruelly
buffeted hips. She could hear his lewd groans and heavy breathing behind 
her as he rotated his pelvis sadistically, forcing his rock-hard penis in
and out of her helpless ravaged pussy.
 
The tortured young bride was nearly unconscious now, almost
overwhelmed by the pain and shock of her husband's brutal rape. But just as
she thought she could endure no more, a strange thing began to happen.
Unable to resist his powerful onslaught, she began to surrender, and as she
did, a totally new feeling started to ripple faintly through her impaled
young body. Unbelievable as it seemed, out of the depths of the burning
shame there arose a strange warmth and excitement that grew in her loins
like a rose unfolding in spring. She had never experienced anything like it
before, not even in their gentlest lovemaking. It was as if her newly
awakening body was beginning to melt in warm waves of undulating pleasure
that, mixed with the brutal pain of his sudden rape, produced an
irresistible gnawing of unfamiliar desire deep inside the cock-skewered
young wife. For the first time in her life she wondered if she could
experience the real pleasure of sensuality the way the doctor had hinted
when she had spoken to him. Perhaps perhaps she might even have an orgasm.
 
"Oooooohhhh" she moaned as the thrilling new feelings began to
envelop her, "Ooooohhh" Despite her shame, her naked young body's needs
began to force her to grind her hips back against Tim's forward-thrusting
penis. She dug her knees into the mattress and gritted her teeth, less in
torment than in the beginnings of blind overpowering passion. Her mind
still struggled, terrified of letting go so completely, but her servilely
kneeling body, jolted out of its long passivity and fear by Tim's
traumatizing attack, began to move involuntarily in a slow inexorable
rhythm as it sought satisfaction of its basest instinctual hungers. Every
inch of her ripely contoured young frame was tingling now with steadily
mounting lust and she began to moan like a woman possessed, her body
thrashing out of control in an unexpected wave of demonic sensuality.
 
"Oh Christ!" Tim groaned, feeling her squirm beneath him, for the
first time returning some measure of his excitement. "Oh yes, that's it!
Oh, honey, you're beautiful, beautiful!"
 
He became triumphant as her moans slowly changed from pain and
self-pity into sighs and grunts of obscene arousal, for he realized his
unexpected rearward assault was actually beginning to break through her icy
coldness. His thickly swollen penis became charged with rampant lust as he
drove deeper and deeper into her wantonly heaving cuntal interior.
White-hot sperm began to surge in his bouncing testicles as he rammed into
her with the fury of a jackhammer.
 
Kneeling before him, her body jerking in perfect sensual rhythm with
his, Susan began to experience velvety warm flashes of heat galloping
wildly through her writhing loins. Her ravishing young body trembled with
raw animal passion as delirious thrills consumed her for the first time in
her life. Her wetly throbbing vaginal passage grew unbearably hot and
pounded with an incredible need. She felt herself on the edge of a
staggering sensual precipice, about to fall over the brink into a 
bottomless sea of irresistible, forbidden delight! She thrilled with
happiness to think that at last her moment of complete release was suddenly
here, despite everything! At last she was going to fulfill herself as a
woman!
 
But in the next moment Tim began to cry out with the approach of
orgasm.
 
"I'm cumming," he moaned wildly, "Oh fuuuccckk I'm cuuuummmiiinnggg!
Uuuuunnnggghhh! Fuuucckk!!!"
 
Susan was shocked back to reality by his obscene excited cries, and
her body quivered fearfully when, in the next minute, his raging load of
thick hot semen exploded in convulsive spasms into her violently clenching
pussy.
 
It was happening too fast! The young wife suddenly found herself
completely disoriented, and the ecstatic pleasure she had felt only moments
before suddenly fled as quickly as it had come. He's an animal, a voice
cried out in her head, an animal! Miss Whitfield! Nonooo! She felt as if
boiling lava were squirting into her loins and spreading throughout her
body! Bogeymen! Cummmiiinnggg! Inside of her body! Suddenly she was seized
with blind terror as she had been so often in her childhood nightmares.
 
"Nooo!" she cried, protesting against her returning fear as much as
the torrent of hot cum her triumphant husband poured into her from his
rapidly jerking penis, "Nooo!"
 
Tim rammed his massively ejaculating cudgel back and forth until its
rhythm abated naturally and the last drop of his white sperm had jetted
into her. Then, slowly, he pulled away as Susan fell forward in an
exhausted heap on the bed. Something had happened at the last minute,
something he had been too excited to comprehend. She had been responding
incredibly and then at the moment of orgasm What was wrong?
 
"Susan?" he asked softly. "Susan?"
 
"Oh, Tim" she moaned, her face buried tearfully in the coverlet of
the bed, "it's no good it's no good"
 
Tim's face soured into an expression of deep disappointment and anger
as he realized once more that his efforts had been in vain. He had fucked
her, yes, and had a full release, but now, seeing his wife once more
shuddering in fright on the bed, the momentary galvanic excitement he had
experienced quickly fled, replaced by the old feeling of resentment and
frustration.
 
"Christ," he said wearily, rising from the bed. "What's the use?"


 
Susan Jameson sat absolutely still on the sofa, her mind slowly
returning to the present. Tim had left for Boston a half hour after their
unhappy encounter, and nothing was settled. Things remained at an impasse
so that it looked as though their marriage might fall apart completely. Yet
she also knew that something had happened to her during his cruel rape, for
she had experienced, at least for a few rapturous moments, a sensual 
awakening the likes of which she had never known before. Maybe, with a
little more time, she could really let herself go and experience an entire
orgasm. With surprise, she realized that the crotch band of her panties had
become moist, probably because of her detailed recall of what had taken
place on Monday. Quickly she got up from the sofa, feeling a little
embarrassed, to change into a fresh pair.
 
But as she started up the steps to the second floor of the house, the
doorbell rang.



 
CHAPTER TWO

 
The petite young housewife paused momentarily on the stairs,
wondering who could be at the door. She wasn't expecting anyone that day,
and the only neighbor who was in the habit of dropping in unexpectedly was
Mrs. Carson, who was away on vacation. The doorbell rang again.
 
"Just a minute," Susan called as she descended the steps and paused
in front of the mirror to straighten her dress and pat her hair into place.
Oh, it must be the paperboy collecting for the week, she decided.
 
Going to the front door, she opened it slightly and found that her
visitor was a good-looking young man who she guessed was in his late teens
or early twenties.
 
"Yes?" she asked.
 
"Excuse me, ma'am," the young man said politely, grinning at her with
a friendly smile, "but is your husband at home?"
 
"No not at the moment," Susan replied, somewhat cautiously. Tim had
warned her often about being careful of strangers in the neighborhood,
especially since the crime rate was going up steadily, even in their
suburban area.
 
"Oh, that's too bad," the young stranger said. "I tell you, ma'am,
I'm in kind of a tight spot. I know its not proper for me to be knockin' at
your door like this  you probably think I'm some kind of freak or
somethin'  but I'm just lookin' for odd jobs in the neighborhood."
 
Susan noticed that he spoke with a slight trace of a southern accent.
His face was extremely handsome, youthful and wholesome with bright brown
eyes and high cheekbones topped by a thick curly shock of dark brown hair
that, Susan thought, made him look almost like a young Greek god. Opening
the door a little wider she noticed that he was quite slender, with an
extremely well-muscled body revealed by the tapered bright yellow T-shirt
and tight white jeans he wore. His feet were clad in high black workman's
boots. Despite her initial distrust of her visitor, the young wife found
herself fascinated by the good-looking youth and curious to know more about
him. His face was so pleasant and sincere that it allayed her fears.
 
"Do do you live in the area?" she asked.
 
"No, my home town's Atlanta, Georgia, and I'm headin' for Oregon to 
visit my brother. I been hitchhikin', but my luck ain't been so good. I had
to get a bus from Ohio out to here, and my money ran out. Tell you the
truth I ain't had a square meal or slept in a decent bed for two nights, so
I thought I'd just ask around to see if there were some jobs I could do. I
noticed your lawn needs cuttin' and I thought I'd just ring the bell and
ask.
 
"I see. I don't know what to say. You should speak to my husband
about it, really. We do need to have some work done on the yard, but"
 
"Can I talk to your husband when he comes back?"
 
"I don't think he'll be here until Sunday." The young wife
immediately regretted her last remark. Although she had no real reason to
mistrust this boy, she knew a wife alone without a man in the house was in
a very vulnerable position. "I'm I'm sorry," she said, attempting to close
the door.
 
"Ma'am look, I'm really desperate for some money, can I just do the
work and come back when your husband comes home to get paid? I can sleep in
the park down the street tonight, and believe me, by tomorrow afternoon
your yard'll look like the garden of a palace!"
 
"I I don't know," Susan said nervously. She felt foolish being so
standoffish with the young man. After all, his story made sense, and he
seemed sincere. What harm could there be in letting him work on the yard?
Still, she had heard stories about suburban wives who were preyed upon by
strangers when they were alone. She glanced searchingly at the boy, as if
trying to make up her mind whether or not to hire him, and he smiled back
at her so winningly that suddenly all her suspicions appeared utterly
ridiculous. "Oh, I suppose it'd be all right," she said finally. "When do
you want to start?"
 
"Right now," he replied cheerfully. "The sooner I get to work, the
sooner I can get some food in my belly."
 
"Oh, well why don't you come in and have a sandwich, it'd be no
trouble."
 
"Ma'am, I ain't sure that'd be proper, what with your husband away."
 
Susan smiled at him warmly. There was definitely something about him
that inspired her trust. He was so courtly and gentle, so clean-cut,
certainly nothing like the dirty hippies she had seen wandering around the
streets lately, with their unkempt long hair and ragged clothes.
 
"I'm sure I can trust you," she said, "Come on in. I've got some ham
and cheese in the refrigerator. A good sandwich and a Coke will make you
work better." "Well, to tell you the truth ma'am, I'd sure appreciate it."
 
"Then please come in. By the way," she asked as she opened the door
to let him in, "what's your name?"
 
"Art, Art Wilson."
 
"I'm Susan Jameson."
 
"Howdy, Mrs. Jameson."
 
"Oh goodness, don't call me 'Mrs.'  that sounds so silly. We must be
practically the same age. Just call me Susan."
 
"That's real nice of you, ma'am. Susan, I mean."
 
Susan laughed merrily, completely secure with the handsome youth now,
and rather pleased to have some company to divert her attention from her
problems.
 
"The kitchen's this way, Art," she said, walking past him down the
front hall. "Follow me."
 
The young man watched her intently as he walked behind her down the
hall, his eyes riveted to the swaying ripe half-moons of her buttocks,
while his face became clouded with a dark and strangely perverse expression
that was totally unlike his previous smiling countenance. I sure will baby,
I sure will. Right up into that nice All-American pussy of yours!
 
For the rest of the afternoon Susan tried to busy herself with
housework while Art worked diligently mowing the lawn, trimming the bushes,
and tending to the garden. He seemed to know a great deal about
landscaping, and the young housewife couldn't resist glancing through the
living room window now and then to watch him, fascinated, while he worked.
He had stripped himself of his T-shirt, and Susan found herself staring
unconsciously at his trim athletic build, his sun-tanned skin gleaming with
perspiration. Although he was shorter than her husband, and was slender
like Tim, there was a classic beauty to his body so striking that the naive
young wife could hardly keep from staring at it. She was oddly compelled by
the young man and, hardly aware of it consciously, her thoughts kept
turning again and again toward him. Finally, she invited him to dinner and
they dined together on hamburgers, french fries and salad, chattering
warmly back and forth.
 
'Well," Art said, as he finished the last of his coffee, "it's pretty
late and I should get out of here so the neighbors won't gossip."
 
"Oh, don't worry about the neighbors. I hardly ever see them anyway."
 
"Yeah, but it's gettin' dark, and it's only proper for me to go. Your
husband wouldn't like it if he knew I stayed past dinner with you all
alone. I got to get my sleepin' bag from the station anyway, and then grab
a place in the park."
 
"Art, I just thought of something! We have a storeroom over the
garage, and I'm sure my husband wouldn't object if you stayed there
tonight."
 
"Gee I'm sure tempted. It'd be better than a park bench, that's for
sure."
 
"Then it's settled. I'll leave the garage door unlocked while you're
getting your things, and you can just go right in. Then I'll make coffee
tomorrow morning before you start work."
 
The young man glanced warmly at Susan, then looked down sheepishly.
 
"Susan you've been real kind to me. Ain't many people would be so
kind to a stranger the first day. I just want to say thanks."
 
"You don't have to thank me," the young wife replied. "Believe me,
you're helping us by doing the lawn."
 
Art glanced up at her, and for a moment there was a vivid moment of 
contact between them as their eyes locked. Susan felt herself blush
slightly as strange tingling sensations fluttered over her skin.
 
"Well," Art said finally, shyly tearing his eyes away from her. "I
guess I'd better be movin' on. I'll see you in the morning."
 
"In the morning," she replied, rising to walk with him to the front
door.


 
At nine o'clock that night Susan sat watching an Italian Western on
television, smoking one cigarette after another and sipping slowly from a
glass of light rose wine. Normally she almost never drank, particularly
when she was alone, but tonight she had been feeling oddly excited and
decided that a little wine might calm her down. But no matter what she did,
the restlessness persisted.
 
I wish Tim would come back tonight, she thought as she stared without
interest at the flickering screen. There's so much to be settled between
us, and I'd feel better if he was here with me and we could talk it out.
I've been too cold to him, I know, but I think if I just tried a little
harder I could really let go and be the kind of wife he wants.
 
Of course she couldn't dismiss the fact that her deep-seated mental
traumas over sexuality still rigidly held her mind prisoner. God only knew
how much time it would take for her to become strong enough to transcend
her fears. She desperately wanted her marriage to work, for she loved Tim
deeply and wanted their life together to be full of happiness.
 
Suddenly tamping her half-smoked cigarette in the coffee table
ashtray, she got up, flicked off the television set, and began walking
toward the stairs, pausing to pick up her glass of wine and the bottle.
 
I'll just go to bed early and read, she decided as she climbed the
stairs toward the second-floor bedroom. I'll just put everything out of my
mind and relax.
 
She wondered if Art had returned from the bus station yet, and
whether he was already in the garage storeroom. Despite her early
suspicions she had to admit that she found him quite a pleasant young man,
very easy to talk to, full of interesting stories about his childhood in
Georgia. Of course he was quite good-looking as well, with a body at least
as nice as Tim's, and she was surprised how often her mind kept returning
to the image of him working in the yard, bare-chested, his white jeans
clinging to his sturdy legs, his brown curly hair glistening in the sun.
And yet, even as she thought about it, a part of her chastised herself for
dwelling so unnecessarily on his appearance. Was she some kind of
sex-hungry housewife acting like a kid the first time a handsome young man
came to the door?
 
She paused at the bedroom door, her mind once more a bewildering maze
of conflicting emotions. Maybe I'm losing my mind, she reflected grimly I
don't know who I am any more. Oh God, why does life have to be so hard?
 
She flicked on the soft orange bedroom light and gazed fondly at the 
room she had so painstakingly decorated. It was a spacious bedroom, with
wide white-curtained windows. The walls were done in blue wallpaper with
tiny gold flowers and decorated with pastel watercolors. A huge double bed
with a ruffled colonial canopy stood opposite one window, and was draped
with a yellow-gold bedspread. A blue-skirted vanity table and chair stood
nearby, and an antique colonial dresser completed the furnishings, except
for a thick blue pile rug on the floor. This was the young housewife's
favorite room, and as she entered and closed the door behind her, she began
to feel calmer right away.
 
She placed the bottle of wine and the glass on the nightstand, then
flicked on a transistor radio that stood on the bureau. Immediately the
room was flooded with the mellow sounds of Tony Bennett singing I Left My
Heart in San Francisco. It was one of Susan's favorite songs, and she
hummed along with the music as she turned down the covers of the bed,
fluffed up the pillows, and prepared herself for a quiet evening alone. The
young wife felt secure and cozy in her pleasant little bedroom world, and
soon all her cares had completely faded away.
 
A shower would be nice, she mused, as she slowly unbuttoned her
summer dress and pulled it up over her shapely body. She hung the garment
carefully in the closet, then went into the large white-tiled bathroom
adjoining the bedroom. Standing before the full-length mirror, she removed
her brassiere, folded it neatly, and placed it on a low stool. Then she
slid her fingers under the waistband of her tight white panties and
wriggled them down over her gently blooming hips and white tapered legs,
bending over to step carefully out of them and then placing them on the
stool with the brassiere. Now totally naked, she paused to gaze at her body
in the mirror.
 
The bright bathroom light made her skin seem to shimmer a translucent
cream color, while the cherry-red tips of her breasts tensed and pushed out
like two taut little sentinels in the center of those youthfully firm orbs.
Although she was somewhat embarrassed to have such a ripely formed body,
she remembered how often Tim had raved about her beauty and said he was the
luckiest man in the world to have a wife with her looks and figure, and
that she should be proud of her body.
 
He's right, she thought to herself as she let the palms of her hands
caress the rounded orbs of her breasts a moment before sliding them down to
the nipped-in line of her waist, I shouldn't be so shy about my physique.
 
After tying her long brown hair with a rubber band, she turned on the
shower, waited until the water was just the right temperature, and then
stepped inside. The warm jets of water splashed lightly down onto her
supple young body, running in little streams along the flowing curves of
her flesh as she began to rub herself with a bar of scented lemon soap,
covering herself from neck to toes with a thick lather.
 
"Mnnnnnnnnn," she sighed, "this feels so nice, sooo nice"
 
She slowly relaxed, thanks to the soothing warmth of the water
coursing over her frame while the wine she had drunk earlier finally began 
to have a fuller effect on her. The innocent young housewife found herself
rapidly growing more and more mellow as delightful tingling sensations
rippled through every part of her wetly glistening body. She soaped her
smooth young form over and over with the sweet soap, luxuriating in the
gentle euphoria that glowed in her brain and the cascading warmth that
flowed through her flesh. Soon, her soap-covered hands reached down to the
soft triangle between her cream-white hips and she began to gingerly rub
her pussy flesh with lather. Surprisingly, there was an immediate
unexpected response in that private area, like little bursts of
star-sparkles, as her soapy hands explored her cuntal orifices. Quickly,
she pulled her hands away, startled by the unusual response there and
feeling vaguely ashamed of herself.
 
She remembered that Miss Whitfield had been particularly harsh on the
subject of self-gratification  masturbation as she came to call it later 
and had spent hours lecturing the girls about the mental and physical
dangers of exploring one's most secret recesses.
 
"It is the single most disgusting thing a woman can do," she had said
one night, "and one would be better to be a whore than do such awful things
to oneself!"
 
As a result, young Susan had vowed never to let her animal instincts
get the best of her like that, and she promised Miss Whitfield never to
manipulate herself in such a lewd manner. Thus far, she had never been
tempted, but now, with the unusually pleasant reaction she had experienced
when she placed her lathery hands down there, she wondered if Miss
Whitfield hadn't been wrong about that, too. The young wife remembered,
too, that the doctor she had talked to had talked vaguely about
masturbation, implying that there was really nothing wrong with it, and
that it might even be helpful in allowing her to explore her sexual nature.
But Susan had ignored him, for to her, doing such a thing was dirty and
sinful.
 
Yet now, wanting desperately to free herself from her fears of sex,
she became quite curious to try it. After all, it couldn't hurt, could it,
just once? Still, it was a very daring thing for her, and the more she
thought about it the more disturbed she became about the idea and the more
anxious about the consequences. Finally she decided to put the entire thing
out of her mind and just spend the evening reading as she had planned. She
let the water rinse off the soap, and a few minutes later she stepped out
of the shower, turned it off, and wrapped herself in a thick towel.
 
Yet once again, as she began to dry her vaginal area, there was a
recurrence of the irresistibly enjoyable sensations she had felt earlier,
and it was all she could do to pull her hands away from her private
recesses and finish drying her body. Placing the towel back on its rack,
she opened the bathroom door. Immediately her naked flesh was bathed in a
waft of cool summer air from the bedroom. Her white glowing skin grew
goosepimply, and she shivered pleasantly from the contact of the cooler air
on her freshly showered body.
 
As she walked naked into the bedroom, the music on the radio changed
from gentle ballads to the erotic blues sound of Janis Joplin singing Try a
Little Bit Harder. Normally she would have changed stations immediately,
but there was something about the song now that intrigued her.
 
Try a little harder, she mused ironically, that 's good advice for me
right now.
 
The young wife had never liked the late singer's voice much, but
tonight there was something in the rough, gratingly sensual sound that
intrigued her. The singer's buoyantly determined advice seemed to match her
own mood and Susan decided to leave it on. She went to the bureau to select
a negligee, and as she opened the drawer, her eyes fell immediately on a
short nightie of sheer black lace that Tim had given her on her birthday.
She had tried it on only once but had been so ashamed of the way it made
her look, so strangely alluring and, she thought, cheap, that she hadn't
worn it since. But tonight she felt compelled to slip it on, just to see
what it would be like. Giggling a little, still feeling the effects of the
wine, she slipped the sheer supple garment over her head and let the soft
folds adapt themselves to her body. Glancing in the vanity-table mirror,
she was surprised to see how different she looked. Almost almost like one
of those girls in a girlie magazine. Her initial impulse was to take it off
immediately, but the young wife realized that would be silly, prudish, and
if she was ever going to grow up sexually she would certainly have to let
herself be a little daring now and then.
 
Try just a little bit harder, the radio sang, as if to echo her
thoughts.
 
With determination she walked to the bed and curled up comfortably
against the pillows, then took several long reflective sips of her wine,
listening dreamily to the music. Within a few minutes the young wife had
become rather tipsy, although she was hardly conscious of the fact. All she
knew was that she felt quite pleasant, and her body was shimmering with a
delicious kind of warmth she had never known before.
 
Maybe I just needed to get off by myself like this a little, she
thought, just get away from every thing.
 
The music on the radio shifted once more, this time to something
classical she'd heard it before but couldn't quite identify it. It was a
slow sensuous piece, with a steady throbbing undercurrent of drums. Ravel's
Bolero, she suddenly realized. That's what it is. She had always liked that
composition and, setting her glass on the nightstand, she stretched out on
the bed and listened, her eyes closed, as the slow inexorable rhythm filled
the room and permeated her brain. Her alcohol-fogged mind seemed to drift
on a cloud high above the earth. She felt so light, so lovely. And always
in the background, the insistent pounding of the music.
 
Almost without realizing it, she stretched her nightie-clad body
provocatively on the bed, slowly undulating it in time to the music. Her
mind seemed to fill with strange images as her tipsy imagination began to
take hold of her. She imagined she was on a tropical jungle beach, in the 
shade of a palm tree, a primitive goddess alone in paradise. Oh, how
pleasant it was, how delightful her sensuously writhing young body felt as
she lay on the bed, drifting in fantasy. Her short nightie had bunched up
above her hips now, and unconsciously she let her hands wander down and
lightly finger the white smooth flesh of her hips, then drift up across her
abdomen. Lazily she untied the ribbons of her lace nightie and let it fall
away from her firmly molded breasts, still imagining herself on an isolated
Polynesian lagoon. The soft breeze that fluttered in through the curtained
windows played on her velvety skin like a thousand little feathers brushing
over her, increasing the languid excitement that pervaded her. Her
fingertips brushed curiously over her upthrust breasts, and immediately the
berry-tipped orbs were flooded with enchanting warmth. Anxious to increase
her new-found pleasure, she began to massage the pliant mounds with the
palms of her hands, growing subtly more and more aroused as the music
picked up tempo to match her quickening pulse.
 
Although the innocent young bride was not aware of it, her body was
slowly awakening, awakening to needs and hungers that had been suppressed
far too long. As her exploring hands pressed sensuously against the ripe
fullness of her breasts, they began to trigger reactions in nerve-endings
all over her body that had lain dormant for many years. A faint heat began
to chum in Susan's loins, and her heart beat faster and faster. Soon the
young wife was running her hands up from the sculpted columns of her thighs
to her quivering breasts and shoulders, then down again, over and over,
increasing the euphoric sense of lewd sensual pleasure that enveloped her
with the steadily rising force of a flood. Her breath came more and more
quickly as the music built up its subtle barbaric pace, and soon her hands
were crawling hypnotically down to the golden-brown triangle of her pubic
patch.
 
Suddenly, as her hungrily curious fingers first touched the
hair-lined split of her pussy, an electric thrill of excitement shot
through her body with the force of a thousand volts of unleashed energy.
She gasped as this unexpected stab of heat shot through her body,
immediately bringing her back to reality. She pulled her hands away from
the trembling pussy-furrow, overcome with shame as she realized that she
had begun to play with herself down there.
 
What's happening to me? she cried inwardly. What am I doing?
 
She struggled desperately to resist an overwhelming impulse to plunge
her fingers upward into her vaginal sheath. It was wrong, wasn't it? Sinful
and shameful? Yet the music kept pounding its merciless lurid beat into her
drink-clouded mind, and her body, operating independently, it seemed,
surged with the desire to be satisfied, demanded that she bring her rising
passion to completion. "No no," she murmured aloud, "I mustn't let myself
do such things"
 
But it was too late. She was possessed now with newly discovered
animal lust, and the sensual beast in her had to be appeased! She found her
hands moving, almost of their own volition, down to the warm little slit 
nestled between her thighs. Guilt and shame tore through her brain like
bolts of lightning, but there was nothing she could do to stem the tidal
wave of uncontrollable craving that threatened to inundate her voluptuous
young body.
 
"God help me," she cried piteously, "God help me!" In the next moment
her hands had clamped themselves feverishly on the exposed lips of her
cuntal furrow, and she began to rub the pink moist folds of flesh, driven
by erotic needs too long denied. With a last deep groan of anxiety, she
suddenly surrendered to the onslaught from within, and began to finger
herself in total abandon, like a shameless nymphomaniac caring only to
satisfy the whims of her desire.
 
"Mmnnnn," she mewled, as her vaginal flesh blazed with new-found
excitement, "mmmmmnnn yesssss oh, yessss"
 
Her fingers, as if possessed by an instinctive knowledge, greedily
closed around her clitoris and began to prod and massage the tiny little
bud of flesh until it hardened like a little penis and quivered erect. At
once, hot maddening ripples of delight tore through the innocent young
wife's loins as waves of warm pleasure rolled through her body like distant
thunder, heightened by the driving sensuous music of Bolero playing on the
radio and building to its frantic climax.
 
Oh, this is wrong, wrong! her mind screamed, but it was too late. She
was caught now in a torrent of unbridled ecstasy as strong as cascading
water bursting suddenly through a disintegrating dam. As if trying to make
up for all the years of frustration, her body began to shudder madly in its
hunger for pleasure, yearning for more thrilling forbidden excitement and
hypnotically forcing the helpless young wife to continue twisting and
prodding her hotly throbbing little clitoris with lustful abandon. There
was no way Susan could fight it, and her sleekly tapered legs began to
thrash and kick as her body undulated in sheer rampaging passion on the
bed.
 
Finally, as if drawn by a powerful magnet, her fingers slipped
downward away from the wildly aroused clitoris and traveled toward the
eagerly expectant entrance to her cuntal interior. Her pussy flesh had
grown hotly moist now, responding frantically to the sudden release of
animal lust, and as her fingers reached her cuntal ring, she realized that
it was already drenched with vaginal fluid.
 
"Aaahhhhh," she cried aloud, in submission to the steaming passion
that enveloped her completely. She plunged two fingers deep into the wetly
pulsing flesh of her cunt, pushing them up into the receptive widening
canal until they were all the way in. Then, driven on by a force that
transcended her fears and guilt, she began boring her fingers in and out of
the warm wet passage  in and out, in and out  creating staggering jolts
of unbelievable pleasure in her lust-possessed body.
 
She was so captivated by her self-induced passion that she failed to
notice that the door to her bedroom was, at that moment, being slowly
opened!
 
Art stood in the dim light of the hallway, leering in at the
incredible sight of the wantonly splayed young wife finger-fucking herself
on the bed. A cruel, salacious smile played across his lips, and he
silently reached down, unzipped the front of his tight white jeans, and
withdrew the rapidly thickening shaft of his cock, slowly jerking it up and
down while Tim's wife, totally unaware of his presence, worked steadily
closer to her climax.
 
"Ooohhhhhhhh" she groaned deliriously on the bed, carried away by a
staggering crescendo of self-induced pleasure, "Uuuunnnggghhh!"
 
Suddenly the walls of her vaginal interior, driven wild by the
rotating plunging activity of her frantic fingers, began to palpitate
frenziedly and issue forth a sweet stream of hot female fluid. Susan's
loins burned with a stimulation that surpassed anything she would have
thought possible, and in that moment she knew, without a shadow of a doubt,
that she had reached orgasm.
 
Like a bird soaring aloft into heaven, the young wife catapulted over
the brink of ecstasy into a rapturous bliss as her hands flailed upwards
into her wide-open, drenched and cumming vagina! She laughed and moaned
aloud in utter triumph, scarcely believing how wonderful she felt as her
body shook uncontrollably with gusts of hot pleasure. Her head flailed back
and forth on the pillows, her light brown hair flying in every direction as
she cried and groaned with utter delight.
 
She was cumming! Cumming for the first time in her life!
 
Oh, she wanted the sweet radiance to go on forever and ever, and yet,
finally, her passion began to ebb. Soon she lay still on the bed, breathing
heavily, her eyes closed in contented satiety while her body throbbed
softly in the luffing afterglow of her titanic release. She had finally
done it, finally let go enough to experience a full climax, and she knew
now that it was possible. She could make Tim the happiest of husbands!
 
Then, suddenly, she heard the bedroom door slam with a thud as it
flew open and banged against the wall. With a gasp of alarm she turned and
cried out in shock. Art was standing in the doorway, his huge cock
completely erect and jutting out from the front of his opened "Don't want
to keep that nice pussy all to yourself now, Susan, do you?"



 
CHAPTER THREE

 
"Art!" Tim's startled bride exclaimed in alarm, hastily covering
herself with her scanty nightie, "What are you doing here!"
 
"Thought you might be sorta' lonesome, baby," he replied with a
sneer, slowly closing the bedroom door behind him." I saw the light on up
here and thought you might have some use for a big fat prick in that tight
cunt of yours."
 
"How dare you speak to me that way!" the shocked young wife cried 
out. "Get out of here or I'll call the police!"
 
The young intruder's only reply was to smile cruelly at her, his
thick sensual lips drawn back over his white teeth like a lustful
barbarian. The young wife shook with fright as she realized that her trust
in the young man was obviously a terrible mistake. The pleasant, easy charm
he had projected earlier that day was gone now, and in its place was a
leering obscene animal, standing just inside the bedroom with his hard
stiff penis jerking lewdly toward the young wife's defenseless body like a
striking snake.
 
"I I don't understand Art," Susan stammered nervously, "What's
wrong? Are you drunk?"
 
"No, ain't had a drop of liquor all day. Though I see you been
tipplin' a bit," he remarked, eyeing the empty wine glass on the nightstand
and the half-full bottle beside it. "Ain't good for a woman to drink alone,
that. 'Specially if she's horny. Ain't no need for you to stuff them
fingers up your pussy when I got this big cock of mine all rarin' to go. I
mean, just look at the way it's jerkin' around. It can't wait to slide up
inside you."
 
The young wife felt icy chills shiver through her flimsily clad body
as he spoke.
 
"Are you crazy?" she demanded, her voice trembling with hysteria.
 
"Crazy? Am I crazy?" The handsome youth's eyes narrowed dangerously,
and he began to walk slowly, menacingly toward the wide bed where Susan sat
cowering against the pillows. "They said I was crazy but they're wrong I
ain't crazy it's them that's crazy the world's crazy you don't think I'm
crazy, Susan, do you? Do you?"
 
He leaned in toward her, his face contorted in a hideous mask of
anger, and Susan instinctively backed away, her hands clutching at the
sheer black lace of her nightie, her eyes wide in uncomprehending terror.
 
"No no," she replied weakly.
 
"That's good, baby, that's good." Standing at the edge of the bed,
his cock still stiff as a log and jutting straight out from the front of
his unzipped jeans, he reached down into his boot and withdrew an object
that he held hidden in the palm of his hand. Then the young drifter
suddenly pressed a button on the object and Susan saw a gleaming knife
blade snap into view with a sharp click. He had a switchblade knife! She
gasped in terror, paralyzed with fear. "Anybody says I'm crazy reckons with
this little sweetheart! Get the picture, baby? And if you scream, or try to
phone the cops, or try anything funny, you're gonna regret it. 'Cause I'll
carve up that pretty face of yours so you'll look like a Halloween
pumpkin!"
 
Susan closed her eyes, while an abysmal sensation of cold horror
shook her body like a strong wind buffeting a young oak tree. She was
trapped, held captive by a strange young man who she felt sure was mentally
unbalanced! She was at his mercy, and if she didn't do what he said a
freezing blast of fear tore through her as she opened her eyes again and 
saw Art slowly turning the glittering blade of his knife over and over, as
if tormenting her with his power.
 
"What do you want with me?" she said finally, in a small shaky voice.
 
"Just some fun a weekend of fun for a poor boy from the South. I
ain't never had the advantages you have. I ain't never lived in a fancy
house like this and had everything I wanted on a silver platter." He
glanced with contempt at the comfortably furnished bedroom. "All this
bullshit furniture and crap you got all over the house. While I've had to
struggle for every dime stealing, beggin', grabbin' it wherever I could
like a gutter rat. It's time I had a vacation, don't you think, baby? It's
time I had some real nice fun and we're gonna have fun together, you and
me so just relax I won't hurt you that is as long as you do exactly as I
say. Exactly. Understand? Understand?"
 
"Y yes yes I understand."
 
"That's just fine, baby," he said calmly, replacing the knife in his
boot. "Now let's start in right now. And remember, I'm the boss here the
master just like on the old plantations before you goddamn Yankees fucked
it all up. And you're my slave. My obedient slave. You got me?"
 
"Yyes"
 
"Now you're doin' real good, Susan real good."
 
Slowly he began to undress before her, slipping the T-shirt over his
head and tossing it to the floor, then pulling his tight jeans down over
his lean hard hips. The imprisoned young wife realized that he wore no
underwear as his hugely throbbing cock and balls were at once totally
revealed to her gaze. His enormous penis was much larger than Tim's, and
his testicles, swaying lewdly beneath his thickly distended shaft of male
hardness, seemed to be the size of tennis balls. Within a few moments her
youthful tormentor had slipped off his boots and jeans and stood near the
bed, naked, his well-muscled body gleaming menacingly in the soft light of
the bedroom.
 
The horrified young wife became conscious that the radio was still
playing, now blaring out harsh noisy rock music. She winced in shame,
overwhelmed by the hopelessness of her situation, cursing herself inwardly
for being so foolish as to trust the young man, wishing her husband would
come home. And now the rock music, hard and mean, grated on her ears as if
to taunt her further.
 
"What's the matter, baby? Don't like good ol' rock and roll? Too
nasty for the little princess? Ah, you fuckin' uptight chicks are all
alike. Too refined for real life, aren't you? You like everything nice and
clean, so it don't smell. Don't you? Well, baby, that's bullshit, and old
Art here is gonna introduce you to the other side of things!" He sauntered
over to the radio, arrogantly displaying his well-sculpted body to her
terrified gaze, and turned the music up full, so that the raucous beat of
the drums pounded deafeningly through the room. Then he turned to her, one
hand gripping the mammoth girth of his cock, and smiled again, like a beast
of prey about to devour its entrapped victim.
 
"Now baby, I'm going to fuck you till you can't see straight."
 
The young housewife instinctively clutched the lacy garment tighter
to her body, gulping back tears of humiliation and anxiety.
 
"Please," she murmured softly, "don't do this. I'll give you
anything do you want money? I'll give you whatever I have"
 
"No, baby, I don't need money right now. I need some hot pussy
wrapped around my prick. And yours'll do fine. And you want it too, don't
you? You want my fat prick in your cunt, don't you?"
 
Susan closed her eyes tight shut and turned away from him.
 
"Don't turn away, baby, I want to hear you say it. I know you want me
to fuck you, and I gotta hear you say it! Now!"
 
The terrified young wife felt the hot tears burning her tightly
clenched eyes. Why was this happening to her? What had she done to deserve
this kind of cruel trick of fate? It was unthinkable that something like
this should happen to her in her own house!
 
"Didn't you hear me, bitch? I said say it! Say you want me to fuck
you!"
 
"Art I I can't"
 
"You can and you will, baby. Or else you're gonna feel my knife on
your neck. Now say it cause underneath that prissy little surface I know
you want it. Now say it!"
 
The young wife knew she had no choice but to do as he said. A great
wall of repulsion and horror crashed down on her, and her body shook
helplessly on the bed as she struggled tearfully to obey him.
 
"I I want you to fu fu fuck me I want you to fuck me"
 
"Come on, you can do better than that. Say it like you mean it,
bitch."
 
"I I want you to fuck me!" Suddenly the words came tearing loose
from her throat, "I want you to fuck me!"
 
"Not bad, bitch. Not bad." Art walked slowly toward the bed. "Now
take off that lace shit you're wearing and let me see your body all naked."
 
Slowly, her hands trembling with fear, Susan removed her sheer
nightie and placed it carefully next to her on the bed.
 
"Good," the young tormentor replied, growing rapidly more excited as
she meekly obeyed his commands. "Now stretch out that body of yours on the
bed and spread your legs apart so I can see your pussy real good." The
young wife extended her quivering limbs and spread them slightly, easing
her body back on the mattress until she was lying prone, waiting in fear
for what he would do next. "Wider, bitch," he snarled, and suddenly he
grabbed both her ankles and splayed her legs as far as they would go.
 
"Ooohhh!" Susan cried, for his cruel gesture had hurt her, stretching
her leg muscles to the point of strain.
 
"Stop whining, or I'll punch you good and hard in the face," he
bellowed. He stood now at the foot of the bed, staring lasciviously into
the fully exposed slit of her pink moist pussy, still pulsing from her
recent self-gratification. His lean young body shook with excitement to see
the vulnerable young girl spread-eagled obscenely before him and, with a
deep growl of lust, he clambered up on the bed and thrust his full length
roughly on top of Susan's trembling form. His face was just above her own,
a twisted contorted mask of hideous cruelty. The young wife cringed,
desperately trying to push her body down against the mattress in a
ludicrous attempt to get away from him. But she knew it was hopeless. She
was his slave  his abject, humiliated slave.
 
Towering above her like a crazed animal, Art licked his lips in
anticipation. She was his now, completely his to use as he wished, and he
gloated in sadistic delight, his mind swarming with obscene fantasies of
what he could subject the quavering young girl to over the next day or two.
He would have to be careful, of course, to keep her under control and away
from the phone, and he had to watch out for the husband's return. But he
was an old hand at games like this, and knew his instincts would keep him
safe and sound for a long orgiastic weekend.
 
Growling hoarsely, he fell forward, his weight crushing her fully
rounded breasts against the young wife's chest. He thrust his hips downward
at the same time, deftly ramming his rigid bloated cock against the wetly
resilient flesh of Susan's vulnerable pussy-slit. He reached down and, with
one firm move, positioned his lurching cock at the already stretched
entrance to her vagina. Then, with a second thrust of his hips, he drove
its rigid thickness deep into her moist throbbing cunt like a raging bull,
pushing the hot soft flesh of her vaginal walls in rippling waves before
it. There was no stopping the rudely impaling cock until, with a loud slap,
his balls smacked against the obstruction of her tensed and trembling
thighs.
 
"Ooohhhh Goooddd!" she cried out beneath him, stunned and mortified
to be taken so quickly, to have his relentless cock-shaft tearing with no
preparation into her cringing vagina, spearing her without mercy. His huge
penis lay burrowed deep in her belly, filling every part of her violated
cuntal sheath. She was so moist from her feverish finger-fucking only
minutes earlier that she was helpless to resist the lewd intrusion. It was
as if her vagina welcomed his obscene girth, craved it, despite her horror
and indignation. She was being betrayed by her own body now, unable to
control her physical reactions at all.
 
Art lay still for a moment, then suddenly clamped his eager lips down
over her tightened mouth as he began a slow rocking motion between her
fearfully shuddering thighs. The already heated cuntal passage widened
greedily with each smooth skewering stroke as Susan gritted her teeth, her
loins burning with the pain of the harsh impalement.
 
She cursed herself for trusting the stranger so readily but there was
nothing she could do about it now. Why has it happened, why? she demanded
inwardly. Although everything in her conscious mind struggled against it,
her body began to respond hotly to the increasing frenzy of his brutal
fucking. Already she was experiencing faint throbbings of carnal pleasure,
feelings she had begun to unleash in herself only minutes before, and now 
it was too late to hold them back! Her body craved release, and made no
moral judgments on how or why it happened! Fully aware of the bitter irony
behind her situation, Susan twisted her face into a strange, perverse smile
as Art began to lunge into her with increasingly rapid strokes, thrusting
his iron-hard shaft in and out of her responding cunt.
 
Her body began to twitch and writhe now, freeing itself of Susan's
conscious control, as she involuntarily breathed groans of pleasure into
the moist cavern of Art's hungry mouth. Passion raged like a grass fire
through her lust-conquered frame and her nostrils flared heatedly. A light
film of perspiration broke out on her forehead beneath the soft disheveled
strands of silky hair.
 
"I knew you'd like it, baby," Art snarled as he drove into her with
unabated fury, "Let yourself go, cause you got no choice now. Dig it, baby,
dig it!"
 
With a moan of shame-filled surrender, Susan realized that he was
right. At least if she submitted to him totally, body and mind, it might
ease her torment. Slowly, hesitantly at first, she began to consciously
rotate her pelvis, each move drawing Art's huge lurching cock deeper and
deeper into her wetly clasping vagina. Suddenly her cuntal flanges were
acting on their own, sucking like a baby's lips drawing in a peppermint
stick, drawing his mighty penis greedily up inside her tremor-shaken body.
Her hands flew up and gripped his well-muscled shoulders, her fingers
digging desperately into his sun-tanned flesh, hanging on with passionate
intensity while the hot moist walls of her vagina flowered open to receive
his battering cock-blows.
 
There was no resistance left in the young wife now. She had drunk too
much wine, was too numbed with the shock of the sudden turnabout situation,
too sexually excited from her earlier finger-fucking to do anything but
eagerly submit to the pounding thrusts of her tormentor's rampaging penis.
Her legs, on either side of his impaling rod of flesh, were jerking and
quivering in uncontrolled abandon. Her eyes were closed and her tongue
slavered wetly up against his mouth as small sounds of velvety pleasure
rumbled up from her throat. She couldn't believe the searing flames of
passion that were rippling through her naked twisting young body. It seemed
impossible that under these circumstances she could experience such
ravishing thrills, but it was true! It was real! Finally a great wave of
blazing forbidden excitement tore through her ravaged limbs, blasting her
anxieties away in an explosion of unbridled lust! She was being fucked
mercilessly by a sadistic stranger in her own home! And she loved it! It
was shamefully, obscenely true! She loved it!
 
Art labored hotly above her, tormenting her with cruel lunging
strokes that brought his long thick cock almost all the way out of her
wetly clasping vaginal inferno on the backstroke, then thrusting forward
hard, battering her tender flesh with the force of a sledge-hammer on an
anvil. He quickened his pace as she thrashed her body abandonedly beneath
him, then he pressed his hands behind her knees, pushing them up into a 
jackknife position so that they were crushed against her breasts, so that
the plane of her seething crotch was wide open to the pile-driving thrusts
of his cock as he smacked brutally into her.
 
"AAaaannnngggghhh!!" she moaned depravedly beneath him, her face
contorted into an unrecognizable mask of bestial passion. The young wife's
body was throbbing madly with unbelievable excitement. Radiant bursts of
heat exploded in her loins, causing every inch of her skin to sizzle with
ecstasy as she gasped in the throes of wanton passion.
 
Art groaned in obscene enjoyment, quickening his strokes even more,
grinding deep and hard into her drenched cunt so that his blood-swollen
cock drove far up into the hidden untouched recesses of her womb. His huge
heavy balls, slapping roughly against her upturned anal crevice, grew hot
with their churning load of semen. He was going to cum soon, cum like a
cannon, and so was she. He could tell from the way her gasps and cries of
ecstasy were becoming more and more frequent. The galvanic fire in his
testicles had reached the bursting point now, and he knew the moment was at
hand.
 
"Shit! Ooohhh shhiiittt!! I'm cummmiiinnnggg!" he groaned with savage
intensity. "Uuuuuunnnngghhh!!"
 
Beneath him, Susan quivered like a helpless whore gone out of
control, her perspiration-drenched body flailing distractedly, her head
tossing shamelessly from side to side. She was nearly incoherent with the
rampaging pleasure she was experiencing, as her wildly clenching cuntal
walls quaked with a colossal passion. She was cumming again! Even more
intensely than she had a few minutes ago! This cruel, crazed youth had
taken her to heights of barbaric pleasure she had never known existed.
 
''aaaaahhhhhh Uuuuunnngggghhh!" she shrieked, as the force of her
orgasm tore through her body like a forest fire. "Rrrrrnnnnggghh!"
 
Art felt her hot cuntal depths opening and closing around him crazily
as he gushed jet after jet of thick scalding semen into her drenched
interior. Her vaginal secretions flowed hotly around his wildly jerking
penis, mingling her sex juices with his own. Wave upon wave of white cum
squirted from the parted glans of the sadistic young drifter's cock-head,
welling headlong into the tormented housewife's writhing, welcoming
channel. He twisted his muscular body and bucked his hips, draining himself
as she lunged up toward him, the lips of her involuntarily contracting cunt
sucking at his penis as though trying to milk him dry.
 
Susan moaned a long, steady moan of passion as she felt herself
bathed in the luridly warm pleasure that enveloped her as Art gushed the
last of his surging load into her madly palpitating cunt. Then finally it
was over. Slowly Art withdrew his deflating cock-shaft and collapsed next
to Susan on the bed. The young wife lay inert, totally exhausted, her mind
a raging mixture of confused emotions. She had been brutally fucked by a
strange young man, taken in the most humiliating manner conceivable, and
yet her body had responded hungrily, greedily, like a thirsty man gulping
down great draughts of cool water. She shuddered as she fully realized the 
horrible depravity of what was happening to her, unable to comprehend how
it happened or why. Dimly she heard the radio in the background, still
blaring at top volume.
 
"This is Radio Station KRKT signing off for the night. We begin our
broadcasting day at six this morning with the Early Bird Matinee.
Goodnight, and pleasant dreams"



 
CHAPTER FOUR

 
The sex-ravaged young housewife fell into a numbed sleep shortly
after the exhausting orgasm she experienced from Art's brutal assault, and
did not revive until the bright morning sunlight came pouring through her
bedroom window next morning. As her eyes fluttered open and she gradually
became more awake, she suddenly remembered, with a fearful shudder that
tore through her white naked body, all that had happened the night before.
Yet she was alone on the bed, and at first she wondered if the incredible
incident hadn't been some sort of terrifying nightmare. Perhaps she had
fallen asleep and imagined the whole thing. But as her mind became more
alert, she heard noises in the kitchen on the floor below and knew
instinctively that what had happened was no cruel dream. It was real
horribly real.
 
She sat up in bed, nervously clutching the sheet around her abused
young form and glanced around the room. The daring black lace nightie she
had put on so impulsively lay in a crumpled heap next to the bed, and the
sheets were disheveled where her young tormentor had spent the night
sprawled out next to her.
 
Oh God, she thought miserably for what seemed like the hundredth
time, why is this happening to me?
 
She desperately wished she could somehow contact Tim and tell him
what was happening, but she knew that was impossible. Art was no fool, even
if it was apparent that he was somehow mentally unbalanced, and Susan knew
he would keep a sharp eye on her to make sure she wouldn't try calling for
help. At the same time, she remembered that Tim had promised to call that
afternoon  maybe she could somehow let him know she was in trouble. Maybe
the strike was over and he was already flying home to her. These thoughts
gave her a shred of courage and hope, enough at least to face her tormentor
again, and she threw the sheet aside and got out of bed.
 
Within a few minutes she had washed and dressed herself in the most
demure housedress she could find, determined not to wear anything remotely
seductive in the hope of keeping her young assailant at bay. Yet, despite
her revulsion and hatred for Art, she was also aware that something had
happened to her last night that was undeniably exciting. For the first time
in her young life she had experienced not only the titillating pleasures of
the body, but also her first full orgasm  not only one, but several, each 
more overwhelming than the last. It troubled her deeply that such an
incredible awakening should happen to her under such humiliating
circumstances. How was it possible that she could experience something so
wonderful at the hands of a degenerate sadist? Was life such an
unfathomable paradox that it allowed her an extraordinary breakthrough only
under the most shameful of situations?
 
She paused as she reached the bedroom door, her mind once more a maze
of conflicting emotions, hesitant to go downstairs and face the cruel young
drifter. But she knew there was no choice, and, squaring her shoulders with
determination, she went out into the hall and descended the stairs. She was
surprised to detect the familiar smells of breakfast cooking. The delicious
aroma of fresh coffee permeated the house, and the crackling sounds she
heard could only be bacon sizzling on the griddle. Reaching the entrance to
the kitchen she stopped short, her mouth hanging open in astonishment, at
the sight that greeted her eyes.
 
Art was seated at the kitchen table, stark naked, sipping coffee and
devouring a huge plate of eggs, potatoes and bacon, and at the stove, also
stark naked, save for a short apron tied around her waist, was a young
girl, a complete stranger!
 
"Hi, baby," Art remarked with a sneer as he glanced up at the
wide-eyed young wife. "This here's Tanya, my girl friend. I brought her
back with me last night."
 
"Hiya honey," the girl said casually, as she lifted some bacon from
the pan with a fork.
 
Tanya was a tall girl, nearly five-seven, with a voluptuous figure,
and a pretty heavily made-up face topped by a huge bouffant of platinum
blonde hair. Her fully curved young body was tanned from the sun and shone
with a coppery gleam. Her ripely rounded breasts were enormous and thrust
out like two huge fleshy spheres coming to sharp points where they poked
against the material of the top part of the apron. Her waist was narrow
where it gave way to the swelling bloom of her hips. She seemed completely
at ease, as if she had lived in Susan's house all her life, and went on
with her cooking as if nothing at all unusual were happening.
 
"Hungry, sweetie?" she asked the young wife, who stood at the
entrance to the kitchen as if paralyzed. "I can cook up some eggs real
fast."
 
"Sure she's hungry," Art remarked with a snicker, "after all the
fucking I threw into her last night."
 
Susan blushed with shame at his remark, although Tanya giggled like a
little girl and gave the degraded young wife a knowing wink.
 
"I'm I'm not hungry," Susan said weakly. "Maybe some coffee."
 
"Sure, coffee's on the table," the statuesque blonde said.
 
The young wife began to move hesitantly toward the kitchen table,
where Art sat staring at her mischievously.
 
"Why don't you take those clothes off first, baby," he said, his eyes
glittering darkly, "like the rest of us. It's too hot to wear clothes."
 
"I I don't think so" Susan answered, instinctively clutching at the
top button of her housedress.
 
"I said take your clothes off," Art snapped, his voice taking on a
menacing tone. "Right now!"
 
"Better do as he says, sweetie," the blonde girl said. "It ain't good
to sass Art. Hell, one time I wouldn't do as he said and he damn near
whipped me senseless."
 
"Yeah, but you enjoyed it, didn't you, cunt?" the drifter said.
 
"Course I enjoyed it honey," she replied. "I always do, don't I?"
 
"Sure, baby, that's why I love you so much." He turned once again
toward the visibly shaking form of the young wife. "So strip, bitch, or do
I have to teach you the hard way?"
 
Susan knew she had no choice but to obey her cruel young master, and
with trembling fingers she began to unbutton the front of her housedress.
Both Art and Tanya stared with lascivious interest as the young wife slowly
removed first her dress and then her undergarments, until finally her
petite young frame was completely naked. Folding her clothes carefully,
Susan placed them on a kitchen chair and then walked to the table, her
gleaming white skin tinged with pink from embarrassment as the other two
continued to ogle her lustily.
 
"Well, you sure weren't just whistlin' Dixie when you said she was
cute, Art," Tanya chirped. "Why sweetie you got a figure that must be tasty
as a Georgia peach!"
 
Trying to ignore the others, Susan sat down with as much modesty as
possible in the situation, and poured a cup of coffee. As she sipped the
hot liquid, her mind came fully awake and she glanced around the kitchen.
She was shocked to realize that the place was a mess. Cracked egg shells
lay scattered everywhere. Papers, broken cups, coffee grounds, and garbage
had been strewn throughout the carefully decorated room as if rowdy
children had been suddenly turned loose. A surge of anger flashed through
her brain as she realized how thoughtlessly they had gone through the
place, invading the privacy of her home, and turning the kitchen, at least,
into a pigsty. The young wife always prided herself on the orderliness of
her surroundings, and she was surprised to find herself growing furious at
the intruders not only for the sexual degradation that had been forced upon
her, but also for the rudeness they displayed toward her environment.
 
Funny, she thought to herself, I'm almost more unhappy about what
they've done to my kitchen than what they've done to me.
 
"How ya feelin' this mornin' baby?" Art inquired with a smirk.
 
"All all right," Susan replied. Although she hadn't thought about it
until now, she realized that despite the fact that her mind was torn with
anxiety, her body felt refreshed and rested, as if the carnal side of her
nature had been quite satisfied by the moral outrage she had suffered. The
only unpleasant reminder of the obscene debauch she had been subjected to
was a faintly gnawing ache she felt in her vaginal area. And yet even this
was not physically uncomfortable or distressing.
 
"Ready for more?" Art queried.
 
"More? What do you mean?" The young wife set her coffee cup down
abruptly, wondering what further torment the darkly handsome drifter had in
mind for her. Wasn't it enough that he had ravaged her mercilessly in her
own bedroom, and that he and his vulgar girlfriend had made a wreckage of
her kitchen? Why didn't he just go away and leave her alone?
 
"You don't think last night was it, do you?" Art went on as Tanya sat
beside him and began to wolf down a huge breakfast. "Hell, this weekend's
only just started! Ain't that right, Tanya?"
 
"Sure, doll, anything you say. Just let me finish this food, okay?
Then we can do anything you want."
 
Suddenly Art appeared to be seized with rage, and he grabbed the
plate of food away from the startled blonde girl and hurled it angrily
against the wall. The plate shattered instantly, and eggs, potatoes and
bacon flew in every direction adding to the general chaos in the room.
Susan bit her lip to keep from crying out in fury. How dare he do such a
thing?
 
"I don't like to have my orders disobeyed, cunt," Art snarled to his
pouting girlfriend. "You do as I say, understand, whenever I want. And
right now I want to get my prick stirred up a little. Hell, I been up for
two hours and I ain't had a hard-on yet. Now let's get goin'."
 
"Well, what do you want me to do, Art? I mean, gee, don't get so mad.
I didn't know what was goin' on in your head."
 
"Well, now you do. How about lickin' out Susie's cunt? After all that
finger-fuckin' and cock-fuckin' she must be all sore down there. How about
it?"
 
"Why sure, Art, I'd be glad to."
 
She glanced with a broad smile at Susan, who sat as if frozen in her
chair. Art was asking his girlfriend to to make love to her! The young
wife was totally shocked by the idea, unable to believe that he could
possibly be demanding such a thing. Nothing was more shameful to her than
the idea of two women having sexual contact. After all, it was something
only discussed in whispers behind closed doors. In fact, she had often
thought that such things actually never happened, that they were only dirty
stories made up by sick people to amuse their corrupt minds. But now her
young captor was actually ordering his voluptuous blonde girlfriend to to
make love to her! An icy shiver of shame rippled through her naked young
body.
 
Tanya, on the other hand, took Art's command with no noticeable trace
of concern. Now eighteen, she had been involved in just about every kind of
sexual scene imaginable since she had run away from her rural Virginia home
at the age of fourteen. The curvaceous blonde had shacked up with one man
after another in order to keep herself fed, finding that her extraordinary
face and figure were all she needed to get by. When she had run into Art,
strictly by chance in a diner in Kansas, she had been living with a
middle-aged businessman and his wife as their sexual mascot and was tired 
of it. Art offered her a few months of traveling, and she grabbed the
chance.
 
Although her boyfriend was strange and often required her to perform
bizarre sexual practices whenever the fancy struck him, she found him
vastly preferable to others she had known and liked the excitement that
surrounded her when she was with him. Making love to men, women, anything,
didn't bother her in the slightest. It was all the same, and she enjoyed
just about all of it. In fact, she actually relished the idea of sexual
intimacy with the obviously terrified young wife, for she found Susan quite
attractive in a wholesome way. Indeed, the young wife's compact young body
had aroused her from the minute she had come into the kitchen.
 
"Now let's have a little action, okay?" Art said.
 
"Where, honey pie? The living room?" Tanya asked.
 
"Hell no, right here," he replied. Rising, he suddenly swept his arm
across the huge, circular kitchen table, instantly clearing it of cups,
plates and food by sending them crashing to the floor in a heap of
shattered china and garbage.
 
"Okay Susie, get up on the table. Seems like a good strong table to
me. It should hold both of you real nice. Climb up, bitch."
 
The captive brunette went cold with terror as she realized that Art
wanted her to climb onto the kitchen table, the old oak table that she and
Tim had found in a country roadside antique store, and lie there completely
naked on her back. He must be insane, she realized inwardly, completely
insane! But she had to obey him, no matter how she felt. Forcing herself to
comply, she rose meekly from her chair and climbed awkwardly up onto the
solid wood table.
 
"Good, that's real good," her young captor said as she lay back,
tense and anxious, on the tabletop. "But spread your legs, so Tanya can see
what a real nice cunt you got."
 
Susan shut her eyes as a wave of utter humiliation shivered through
her prostrate form. Slowly, she spread her legs wide as Tanya rose from her
chair and sauntered around so that she could see the exposed pink flesh of
the young housewife's reluctantly proffered vaginal slit.
 
"Ain't that a nice one?" Art asked, his eyes bulging with
anticipation as his long thick penis stirred lurchingly to life.
 
"Real nice, yeah. You got a nice pussy, you know that?"
 
Susan couldn't believe the lewd obscenity of the two of them. They
were examining her as if she were a piece of meat in a butcher shop. She
wanted to scream in anger and terror, but she knew also that Art was
dangerous, really dangerous, and that to do such a thing would be to put
her life in peril. And so she struggled to suppress her feelings and accept
numbly whatever degradation they wanted to inflict on her.
 
"Now, get on up there, Tanya, and give me a good show, 'cause I want
to jerk off."
 
Smiling slyly, Tanya eased her lush jiggling body up onto the table
until she was kneeling between Susan's tensely parted legs. Her eyes were 
riveted to the faintly pulsing split of pink flesh nestled in the young
wife's hair-fringed pubic triangle, and little tingles of warm anticipation
fluttered over the blonde's crouched body as she lowered her head down to
the warm perfumed furrow of the brunette's cuntal area. She flicked her
moistly searching tongue out experimentally and dabbed at the fluted folds
of vaginal flesh. Susan's body jerked involuntarily at the contact of the
blonde girl's snake-like probe with her fearfully quivering slit, and her
hands clenched into two tight fists held rigid at her sides as she sought
desperately to keep from screaming in torment.
 
Tanya ran her licking tongue up and down the full length of the
exposed crevice, while her hands gripped the firm flesh of the young wife's
white curving hips. Her own handsomely endowed body was responding with
lewd excitement as she lapped hungrily at Susan's vaginal lips. The
blonde's cuntal interior began to glow with a pleasant warmth, and the
nerve endings all over her skin pulsed in lurid anticipation. She increased
the fervor of her oral manipulations, gliding her wet extended tongue up
and down, up and down, savoring the distinctly feminine aroma that wafted
up into her nostrils.
 
Soon she found the bud of the young wife's clitoris, pulsing softly
with involuntary arousal at the voluptuous blonde's artful tonguing. She
began to massage it lewdly with her lips, teeth and tongue, finding just
the right sensitive spot that she knew would provoke waves of lusty
pleasure, even though the reluctant brunette was obviously struggling to
resist. Sucking greedily at the little penis-like protrusion, she let her
hands move adventurously upwards, sliding over the young housewife's smooth
white skin until they came to rest on the heaving mounds of her ample
breasts. Continuing to suck voraciously at Susan's clitoris, she now began
to squeeze and stroke her breasts as well.
 
The obscenely splayed young wife was shocked to find that once more
her body was reacting totally against her will! Her clitoris had come
quiveringly erect thanks to Tanya's deft licking, and it throbbed with
steadily mounting passion. Her breasts, growing more stimulated by the
minute under the gentle kneading of the blonde's hands, began to palpitate
lewdly, straining with excitement while the nipples hardened to the texture
of thick rubber. Little waves of perverse pleasure began to wind through
Susan's body, despite her fearful determination to remain as detached as
possible from the humiliating degradation. Just as she had found herself,
the night before, transported by Art's brutal assault to a netherworld of
unbridled sensuality, so she now discovered that her newly-awakened body
was once again anxious to explore new realms of abandonment under the
guidance of Tanya's torrid seduction. She couldn't let herself surrender,
she couldn't. How could she face anyone again once she had submitted to the
passionate advances of another woman? She would be breaking every known
social taboo, and it didn't help to remind herself that she had been forced
into it! She had to maintain her pride, didn't she? Her self-esteem? What
would be left after this?
 
Yet even as she thought these things, a steadily mounting blast of
forbidden pleasure was churning in her hopelessly excited loins. The tide
of unaccustomed thrills that had swept her away the night before began once
more to swell in her abused young body. Tanya's tongue was sucking madly at
Susan's clitoris and sending bursts of throbbing warmth through the debased
brunette's hotly pulsing cuntal interior. She could feel herself growing
moist, even though it was the last thing in the world she wanted. It was as
if her wildly responding young body were demanding that she surrender now,
that she let herself react and even return the obscene attentions that the
big blonde was lavishing on her. Without realizing what she was doing, her
hands suddenly fluttered down to stroke the thick mass of Tanya's teased
hair.
 
"Oh heaven forgive me, "she murmured as she realized she was once
more being drawn helplessly into a whirlpool of depravity, "forgive me for
what I'm doing."
 
Meanwhile, Art stood nearby, his eyes bulging lustfully as he stared
intently at the sight of his beautiful blonde girl friend enthusiastically
tongue-fucking the frightened young housewife. Nothing excited him more
than the sight of two luscious babes wriggling together in mutual female
ardor, and his enormous cock was stiffened to the limit, straining like a
red-hot shaft of tubular steel as it jutted forward from the matted tangle
of his dark brown pubic hair. He reached down and grasped the swollen rod
with his hand and began to jerk its aching hardness smoothly up and down
while his huge hairy testicles bounced lewdly beneath.
 
"Suck her good, Tanya," he growled excitedly as he pulled at his
painfully erect cock, "suck her till she can't see straight."
 
Suddenly Tanya darted her wet questing tongue into the tightly
clasped entrance to Susan's passion-wracked cunt.
 
"Ooooohhhhhh," the hotly aroused young wife found herself crying out
as she experienced, for the first time, the maddening thrill of another
female's obscenely exploring tongue in her love-hungry cunt. Tanya flicked
the darting tip into her flaring vaginal depths, causing jolting flashes of
luxurious pleasure to surge through the housewife's involuntarily writhing
body as the blonde girl's serpentine tongue slid along the wet walls of her
fevered pussy.
 
Finally, too overwhelmed with blind passion to resist any more, Susan
surrendered with a deep sigh of animal lust, and gave herself fully to
Tanya's greedy probing, opening her legs wide, pulling her knees up, giving
full access to her wildly throbbing vagina. She no longer cared that she
was being shamelessly tongue-fucked by the wanton young girl friend of her
sadistic captor, or that Art himself was watching the perverted spectacle
with bulging eyes. She had no choice but to submit, for the torrent of
febrile excitement was too strong, too overwhelming to be held back by her
passion-distorted mental protests. No, it didn't matter any more. The only
thing that counted to her now was losing herself completely in the rising
euphoria of delicious sensuality that billowed around her like an engulfing
fog.
 
Tanya pressed her skillful little tongue even deeper into the fluted
wet pussy flesh, ramming it far into the quivering vaginal cavern, whirling
and rotating her stiffened oral member with intoxicating speed while Susan
ground her heated trembling flesh upward into the blonde girl's face and
fought back a shrill scream of ecstasy as the full force of her newly
unleashed eroticism once more took full possession of her mind and body.
 
"Mmmmmmnnnnnnn" Tanya mewled, her hunched young body bathed in
extraordinary waves of shamelessly rippling lust as she feasted on the
young wife's perfumed cuntal flesh.
 
Suddenly Art, who had begun to increase the rhythm of his
self-gratification to a frenzied tempo, called new instructions to his two
female. love-slaves.
 
"Swing around, Tanya, so Susan can suck you off too!"
 
Immediately the blonde girl backed away from Susan's wetly
palpitating pussy and quickly swung her body around, positioning her
throbbing hot cunt directly over the abused young brunette's mouth so that
they could share their mutual excitement. Then, supported on her elbows,
she bent down and continued to lick voraciously at the warm succulent slit
below.
 
At first Susan was frozen with shock as she realized what was
demanded of her now. It was one thing to passively submit to another
woman's oral ministrations while she was helpless to resist her intensely
awakened body responses, but this! To actually put her mouth and tongue on
Tanya's naked vagina, now hovering over her face menacingly, was beyond her
comprehension. This was too much. She couldn't do it.
 
"Go ON!" Art shouted, pumping wildly at his thickly swollen penis,
"Get your hot little tongue into Tanya's pussy!Now! Or I'll wrap my fists
around your face!"
 
Closing her eyes, and fighting back the resurgence of shame, Susan
opened her mouth and timidly pushed out her tongue as Tanya lowered her
moist eager cunt onto her face. At first the young bride recoiled from the
slightly tart, feminine love juices she tasted as her tongue nervously
probed at the hotly throbbing flesh of the blonde girl's vaginal lips. But
soon her former compelling desire returned, recharged now by Tanya's
tormenting little tongue fucking so wantonly in and out of her wet cuntal
depths. Shyly she began to explore the warm quivering furrow, rimming her
tongue around the delicate strands of pubic hair lining the soft pink
cleft. Finding the gently pulsing clitoris, she brushed her tongue lightly
over it and was startled to feel the little bud respond eagerly as it
hardened with excitement.
 
"Nnnngggggnnnnn," Tanya mewled as Tim's inexperienced bride nervously
continued to lick her lustily throbbing clitoris. The blonde girl increased
her own activity, plunging her stiffened tongue fervently in and out of the
hot convulsing folds of cuntal flesh beneath her face.
 
Aroused now beyond all control, Susan broke through the last 
remaining shreds of her resistance and began enthusiastically ramming her
wet little tongue deep into Tanya's heated vaginal interior.
 
The sadistic young drifter watched lasciviously as the two sensual
young females gyrated their gleaming young bodies against each other, their
hungry mouths crushed against each other's passionately throbbing cunts as
they moaned and writhed in lewd delight.
 
"Oh yeah," Art cried, jerking wildly at his heavily bloated cock,
"Suck off, you fuckin' little bitches, suck off!"
 
Susan was submerged now in a sea of swirling ecstasy as she drove her
tongue upward into Tanya's moistly clasping cunt, greedily exploring every
inch of that succulent interior. The blonde moaned in sheer savage delight
as her heatedly pulsing cuntal walls began to expand and contract with
increased intensity as hot flashes of excruciating pleasure jolted through
her wantonly twisting young body. She knew her climax was not far off now,
and she redoubled her efforts by plunging her lewdly darting tongue deep
into Susan's wet clutching vaginal depths.
 
"Ooommmmmnnngggghhhhh!!" the desire-crazed young wife mewled, as she
frantically undulated her white gleaming body up and down on the smooth oak
table, her cuntal interior ablaze with uncontrollable lust. She felt as if
she were sinking into a pool of hot velvety softness, threatened by an
impending tidal wave of unbearable pleasure. She was cumming oh yes,
cumming again with a great rush of sweet aching happiness!
 
Both Susan and Tanya were transported on an incredible vortex of
wildly heaving orgasm as wave after wave of heated delight consumed them.
Moaning steadily in the crescendo of mutual orgasm, they drove their madly
licking tongues in obscene abandon far up each other's wet frothing
vaginas.
 
"Cum, you filthy cunts," Art cried maniacally as he frantically
pumped his cock, "Ffffffffuuuuuuuuccccckkkkkkkk! Fuuuucccckkkkkkk!!!!!"
Suddenly he reached his own pinnacle of excitement and shot forth a jet of
thick scalding sperm from the hotly swollen head of his hand-jerked penis.
An endless stream of squirting whiteness arched out from his lurching rod
of flesh and splashed down onto the kitchen floor, forming gleaming pools
amid the broken dishes and bits of food.
 
The seething climax seemed to go on forever, and Susan let herself be
borne along, a willing victim to the torrential thrills that wracked her
body and mind. Soon however, Tanya pulled away from her, breathing heavily,
and sat back on her haunches.
 
"Oh my," she sighed luxuriously, "that sure was nice."
 
"Yeah, you girls did real good," Art chimed in. "Susie, you're doin'
okay for a late bloomer."
 
The ravished young wife was unable to reply, for her brain was still
reeling from the force of her shattering climax. She was roused from her
stupor only when she heard the shattering of more china as Art threw the
dishes that had been sitting in the sink onto the floor so that he could
wash his sweaty passion-drenched body.



 
CHAPTER FIVE

 
"Pick up a couple of bottles of Scotch and some gin," Art was saying
to Tanya two hours later. "Let's have a real nice party here today."
 
Although Art was still naked, Tanya had dressed in tight-fitting
Levi's and a snug white blouse tied just beneath her voluptuous breasts.
Susan, sitting expectantly on the living room couch, wore no clothes, for
her young captor had forbidden her to dress. The others stood in the front
hallway, and the blonde girl clutched the keys to the captive wife's
station wagon in her hand. The latter had been forced to hand them over to
Tanya, under threat of harm by Art, so that his girl friend could do some
shopping.
 
"I'll be back real soon," Tanya chirped as she went out the front
door.
 
"Make sure of that, baby," Art called after her, "I'm thirsty as hell
for some booze."
 
He closed the door and sauntered arrogantly into the living room, his
sensual lips curled back in a cruel smile as he glanced contemptuously at
the young wife whom he held prisoner in her own house.
 
"Don't you and your husband do any drinkin'?" he inquired. "Christ,
there ain't nothin' but a little shit wine here."
 
"No no we don't drink much."
 
"Don't fuck much either, from what I can see. Hell baby, you been
squealin' like you never had it before."
 
Susan winced visibly as he spoke, and a wave of hatred for the brutal
young man surged through her mind. Yet she knew that in a sense he had put
his finger on the one real sore point between her and her husband. She had
never been able to let go with Tim the way she had with Art, and even
Tanya.
 
I'm no better than a whore now, she thought bitterly to herself,
degraded like gutter trash in my own home and and enjoying it. Oh, God
yes, enjoying it. I must be sick, really sick to react this way.
 
"You know," she said after a long silence, "my husband could come
back at any minute. What are you going to do if he does?"
 
"Why don't you let me worry about that, Susie? I ain't been caught
yet, you know. I got a kind of instinct for that kind of thing. Besides,
didn't you say he's comin' back Sunday?"
 
"I'm not sure it could be any time."
 
"Well, then, I guess we'll just have to have as much fun as we can
today. You know, make hay while the sun shines, right? Right?"
 
"Whatever you say." She was tired of resisting him now. There was
nothing she could do until Tim returned, and she was so numbed and
bewildered by the intensity of her enforced sexual experiences that she 
barely had even the inclination to protest any more. She was his slave, and
there was no alternative but to submit to him until he left.
 
"Ah, that's what I like to hear, baby. You chicks are all the same.
So uptight and prim until you finally get a cock inside you big enough to
fuck all that bullshit right out of you. May as well make it easy on
yourself." He slumped into a huge upholstered armchair and began to
absently toy with his thick-fleshed cock. "I got a nice prick, don't you
think? All the chicks dig it. Nice, ain't it?"
 
"Yes," the weary young wife said without feeling.
 
"You sure don't sound enthusiastic. Hell, baby, you can work up more
than that, can't you? Tell me how much you like my cock. Tell me."
 
"I I like it Art I like your your cock"
 
"You like the way it worms around your cunt?" There was a strange
gleam in the young man's eyes, a dangerous kind of desperation that made
the young wife grow shivery and nervous. "Man, it gets so big and stiff,
don't it, like a pipe, an iron pipe. Huh? Don't you think so?"
 
"Yes yes Art I do"
 
"What's it feel like inside you? I want to know what's it like?"
 
"I I really can't describe it, Art"
 
"Sure you can I got to know I got to hear it and you're gonna tell
me you got to understand?" He reached down beside the chair where his
boots stood and pulled out the switchblade, flicking it open sharply and
making Susan jump anxiously on the sofa. "Come on now, tell me what it
feels like"
 
The young wife swallowed hard and realized fully once again that the
young stranger before her was completely unbalanced. She had heard about
crazy people before, but only in the movies and on television. She had
never actually come face to face with someone really disturbed. But there
was no question in her mind that Art was that kind of person and, if she
valued her life, she had to humor him and do whatever he asked.
 
"It it feels good it feels good inside me, Art," she said in a low
voice, icy blasts of humiliation coursing through her naked young body as
she struggled to get the obscene words out. "Sometimes when you you come
into me and it feels so so big it makes me feel like I'm like I'm in
the ocean or part of the ocean like the waves just floating"
 
"Ah, crap on that," he snorted, waving the knife menacingly, the
polished blade glinting in the sunlight from the curtained windows. "Don't
it make you feel dirty? Real dirty and mean? Like a slut or something?"
 
"Well yes sometimes"
 
"Tell me tell me how it makes you feel"
 
"Like a a slut like a prostitute"
 
"And you like it?"
 
"I I" She couldn't answer him. How could she admit that she enjoyed
such shameful activities.
 
"I asked you if you liked it, bitch."
 
"Art oh God yes yes, I like it. Yes."
 
"Fine, that's just fine" His cock, which up until that time had been
in a state of semi-erection, began to stiffen into its thickly rigid
fullness as they talked, and Susan realized that he had been making her
speak so lewdly precisely to excite him. "You know what I like, Susie? I
like chicks to suck me off. You like to suck cock?"
 
"I've never" The young wife's heart was beating like a jungle drum
in her chest, and her breath came faster and faster as she struggled to
tell the young drifter that she had never sucked on anyone's penis before,
and had never even thought of doing such a thing. Surely he wouldn't ask
her to to do that to him! Hadn't she been degraded enough?
 
"Never sucked on a prick, huh? Well, it's real nice, I'm told, real
nice. Looks like this is gonna be your first time."
 
He stood up arrogantly, his hugely distended column swaying up and
down as it jutted out from his groin in eager erection. Susan knew at once
that he was going to force her to take his thick penis in her mouth, and
the idea made her mind reel in agonized disbelief, while her vulnerable
young body pressed back into the soft upholstery of the sofa almost as if
trying to disappear. Art began to move slowly toward her like a sly tomcat
approaching a frightened, pinioned little bird, his tongue flicking out and
running over his lips in hungry anticipation.
 
"Art please Don't make me do this"
 
But the young tormentor's only reply was to laugh darkly, mockingly,
at the terrified young bride. Finally he stood in front of her, his legs
wide apart, his massively swollen cock pointing out at her from his loins
like some obscene accusation, his bloated testicles tightening like prunes
in lusty expectation.
 
"Pucker up, baby," he snarled, "cause my prick's gonna jam down your
throat whether you like it or not."
 
"No no please!" she cried out anxiously. But Art couldn't have cared
less how much she pleaded for mercy or sympathy. She was going to suck his
cock good, and she was going to do it right now. Roughly he reached out,
grabbed her arm, and yanked her off the sofa, forcing her to kneel before
him like an abject servant. She tried to twist her face away so she
wouldn't have to stare at the lurid sight of his hotly throbbing cock and
balls so close to her face, but he pulled her hair roughly with his hand
and forced her to turn back.
 
"Oooooh," she moaned, "You're hurting me."
 
"That's nothing to what I'll do to you if you don't wrap your mouth
around my cock real fast, understand?"
 
Suddenly the phone rang, and the jangling bell startled both of them.
Art released his grip on her hair and ran to get his knife. The phone rang
again.
 
"Okay, baby, you're gonna answer that phone an' act as if nothin' at
all is goin' on, and if you don't, you're gonna feel cold steel on your
throat." He swiftly grabbed her arm, lifted her to her feet, and walked
with her to the hall where the telephone stood. "I'm gonna be right here 
beside you, and if you make one false move, that's it. You understand,
bitch?"
 
Susan nodded, gulping back the tears and stifling a cry of terror.
 
"Now pick up the phone and we'll both listen and see who it is."
 
He stood next to her, the open knife in his hand, as the anxious
young wife picked up the phone, holding it slightly away from her ear so
that Art could hear also.
 
"Hello?" she said, trying her best to conceal her fright.
 
"Susan? It's Tim."
 
"Tim!" She wanted to cry out to him and tell him to come home at
once, but she knew she couldn't. "Where where are you?"
 
"In Boston." Her heart sank. Her one hope was that the plane strike
was over and he was on the way back. "The damn strike's still on. They're
still saying it could be over anytime, but there's been no breakthrough.
How're you doing back there? Not too bored, I hope?"
 
"No no"
 
"I can't hear you, honey, can you speak louder?"
 
"I'm fine, Tim fine"
 
"This delay's working out pretty well actually. I've had drinks with
some of the people at Everest Mutual, and I think there might be a job
opening, at twice what I'm making now."
 
"Oh, that's that's wonderful, Tim I'm very happy"
 
"Susan is there anything wrong? You sound kind of strange?"
 
Art placed the tip of his knife near her throat, glaring at her
angrily.
 
"No no I'm fine Tim I just miss you, that's all."
 
"I miss you too, honey. I can't wait to get back. But this thing
could drag on forever."
 
Oh no, Susan cried inwardly, please no! Oh God let the strike be over
soon, please.
 
"I I wish you'd come home, darling," she said, trying to mask her
fear.
 
"I do too, but there's nothing to be done. Listen, I've got to go
now. I promised to have a drink with Hawkins from Liberty Funds and he's
waiting. You have a nice weekend, okay? Take in a movie or something, and
when I get back we'll go out to dinner and have a real bash. Okay?"
 
"Okay please come home as soon as you can please"
 
"Sure thing, honey. Take care. I love you."
 
"I love you too"
 
There was a click on the other end, and Susan knew the call was over.
Tim was still in Boston and might not be back for days. It was hopeless.
Art took the phone receiver from the numbed young wife's hand and replaced
it on the hook, smiling darkly.
 
"Well, baby, it looks like our romance ain't over yet!" Putting the
knife on the telephone table, he suddenly pushed her down to her knees,
making sure she was in no position to unexpectedly grab the knife, so that 
she was once more face to face with the enormous girth of his still-erect
shaft of throbbing cock. "Now, let's finish what we started."
 
Susan knew she had no alternative but to do as he asked. His
enormously thickened penis waved obscenely in front of her terror-stricken
eyes as Art slowly pulled back the soft foreskin to reveal the pulsating
ruddy head that seemed to leer at the anxious young wife like the eye of a
demon from hell. How could she take such a shamefully huge thing into her
mouth and actually suck on it? Once in a while, she remembered, her husband
had hinted to her that he would like it, and she had always refused to even
consider such a humiliating thing. Surely this was the lowest degradation
that could be inflicted on a woman! Her lips tightened in fear at the
prospect of taking his lust-thickened penis into her mouth.
 
"Open your mouth, bitch," he snarled, gripping her once more cruelly
by the hair to force her face closer to his excited genitals. "Suck it!"
 
Closing her eyes to blot out the horrible sight, Susan opened her
mouth and locked her lips around the tip of his obscenely extended penis.
She was initially surprised at the velvety texture of the huge cock-head,
although there was a gagging sensation in her throat as she took it into
her mouth. Timidly she let her trembling lips suck on his passion-bloated
hardness, struggling to please her merciless tormentor. Suddenly Art
gripped her fiercely by the hair, this time with both hands, and shoved his
thick swollen cock halfway into her resistant oral cavern, grating his
penile flesh over the sharp edges of her teeth.
 
The young wife gasped and gagged again, shocked to feel the
tremendous bulk of his cock-shaft shoved between her lips. She closed her
mouth around it and began to suck and lick the massive intrusion, although
she had little idea of exactly what to do to satisfy Art. After the initial
trauma, however, she was amazed to find that the texture and sensation were
not altogether as loathsome as she had expected. In fact there was
something intriguing about the fleshy rod, something that almost made her
want to suck it eagerly. Inwardly she reprimanded herself for being so lewd
and shameless in her thoughts, yet it was undeniable that an instinctive
desire was beginning to take hold of her, a strange craving that she did
not understand.
 
Art thrust again, this time forcing the entire length of his hotly
excited penis all the way into her mouth and halfway down the back of her
throat. Again the terrified young wife gagged in tense resistance. Yet once
she adjusted to its enormous thickness, she found that by relaxing her
throat muscles she could continue to suck on it with a minimum of
discomfort.
 
"Suck harder," Art commanded as he began to thrust his hips back and
forth slowly, working the thick rigid member in and out of the tightly
clutching circle of her lips.
 
Trembling with fear and shame, Tim Jameson's kneeling young wife did
her best to comply with the lustful demands of her deranged master. Her
eyes closed in the hope of erasing from her consciousness any awareness of 
the debased act she was being forced to perform, she tried to keep the
muscles of her mouth and jaw relaxed to accommodate the fleshy protrusion
of his thick-girthed column of flesh. Involuntarily her throat contracted,
producing a gagging sound as it tried to expel the unwanted intruder, and
the humiliated girl felt faint. For a moment she reeled unsteadily on her
knees, almost overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness, and she would have fallen
over if Art had not maintained his vise-like grip on her head.
 
"I'm gettin' tired of waitin', bitch," his voice snarled menacingly
above her, and the terrified young wife felt her stomach turn Over in icy
fear at his calm threatening tone. Steadying herself by leaning her
trembling hands against the corded columns of his thighs and breathing a
silent prayer for help in the humiliating ordeal, Susan again began
tentatively pulling and sucking on his lust-distended staff, sliding it in
and out of the puckered oval of her full red lips. Her jaw ached from the
effort of holding her mouth open wide enough to encompass its rubbery
thickness but, reminding herself that she had no choice, indeed that her
very life might depend on her ability to please the sadistic young man
since Tim's phone call had removed the hope of immediate rescue, she did
her best to relax and, as Art had said earlier, "make it easier on
herself." Fighting down her terror and queasiness, she pulled
experimentally on his thick rigid penis, gradually relaxing into a steady
bobbing rhythm in time with the thrusts of his lean hard pelvis.
 
Once she had made the first gesture of surrender, she was surprised
to discover that, although she still felt the act was shameful and
debasing, it was not, in actual fact, as repulsive as it had always seemed
to her. Except for the gagging sensation that occurred each time the heated
tip of his cock-head plummeted headlong against the fiercely resistant
muscles of the back of her throat, and the recurring sense of humiliation
she felt when sudden mental flashes reminded her of the degradation to
which she was being submitted, she found the texture of his throbbing
blue-veined cock inside the virginal cavern of her mouth not really that
unpleasant. Out of curiosity and the desire to hasten the completion of her
ordeal, she began working in earnest to satisfy Art's warped sense of
enjoyment. Her tongue slid wetly over the sensitive underside of his
blood-engorged shaft, tracing an uneven path along the veins that stood out
from the smooth flesh.
 
"That's pretty good, bitch," her captor hissed, rotating his hips
obscenely as he savored the feeling of her slick heated tongue against his
lust-swollen penis. "You're gonna make a real fine cock-sucker!"
 
His lewd words made Susan cringe inwardly with renewed horror at her
situation, and hot, hopeless tears sprang to her eyes. She experienced a
sudden vivid image of herself as she might have looked to an imaginary
third party in the room, kneeling on the floor of her own hallway, stark
naked, before the menacing figure of a deranged youth whose huge penis was
plunging heedlessly, tormentingly, in and out of her mouth. Strangely,
however, the humiliating fantasy-image also aroused unexpected twinges of 
excitement in the ravaged young wife's consciousness. From some deep recess
of her unconscious mind, far beyond her control, began to come other
equally obscene sexual visions, all of them of herself and Art, and
sometimes Tanya, copulating wildly in every imaginable combination and
position. The unbidden images flooded her with warm erotic feelings that
surged excitingly through her naked kneeling frame.
 
Carried away by their sensual force and scarcely knowing what she was
doing, the young wife began sucking on her tormentor's now rapidly plunging
shaft with instinctive expertise, as though she had been doing it all her
life. Her tongue whirled deftly around the swollen cock, up to the tiny
opening at the tip, then all the way down until she felt the wiry softness
of the curling pubic hairs at the base and his hard wrinkled balls slapping
against her chin. Her hands began involuntarily squeezing and kneading the
taut hair-covered flesh of his muscular thighs, and little moans of
pleasure escaped her lips as her head, still gripped by his powerful hands,
bobbed back and forth like a rubber ball.
 
Art groaned with satisfaction and threw his head back in a grimace of
delight as he responded to her increasing ardor. Possessively he wound his
long fingers in the curling tendrils of her thick brown hair, manipulating
her head any way he wanted to increase his pleasure. Looking down at the
kneeling young housewife, he felt a thrill of pride and deranged lust at
the transformation that was once again taking place in the prim girl who
knelt before him. They were all the same, he grinned lasciviously,
screaming and weeping and saying "no" until he'd shown them who was boss.
That was what they all needed, a good stiff cock, and if they protested, a
little roughing up usually brought them around. He didn't know which he
liked more, the actual physical pleasure, or the sight of some uptight
semi-virgin beginning to crack, the way this one did last night, the way
she was about to do again. He could feel it in the trembling of her hands
that were beginning to dance over his naked thighs and hips like
butterflies, hear it in the little gasps and moans of erotic arousal that
escaped from her throat with each thrust of his heatedly excited cock. Her
tight pink pussy was probably creaming already. He smiled to himself at the
thought, and gripping her head more firmly, he held it in place so that he
could increase the rhythm of his lustfully impaling strokes.
 
His appraisal of the young wife's state of arousal was far from
inaccurate, for Susan, to her shame and amazement, was falling prey to
ripples of salacious delight coursing through her loins. Despite her moral
outrage at Art and the terrible things to which he had forced her to
submit, once again her body was betraying her. A tantalizing sensation
seemed to emanate from the little crevice at the juncture of her thighs,
and she could feel a warm passion-induced moisture seeping Out of her
heatedly throbbing vagina. She squeezed her thighs together, but found to
her dismay that this only intensified the feeling. Oh God, she thought
despairingly, what's happening to me? How can I possibly be enjoying this?
I'm I'm no better than a nymphomaniac!
 
Suddenly the pace of Art's movement increased sharply, and a low
animal-like groan burst from his lips. His grip on her hair tightened
cruelly, and instinctively, Susan knew that his orgasm was about to
overwhelm him.
 
"Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh," he growled, forcing her head down onto his
pulsing shaft of cock-flesh as the first jet of creamy-white cum spurted
lewdly into her mouth. Once again the young wife gagged uncontrollably and
struggled to escape the steaming liquid that spouted forth in hot gushes,
but her resistance was futile. With maniacal strength Art pulled her
forward so that his furiously throbbing penis was jammed all the way
against the back of her throat, and she could smell the pungent male odor
of his swaying testicles. Stimulated by the intensity of his release, the
young wife found herself suddenly gulping down the scalding cum as though
it were soda, sucking greedily at his ejaculating penis as though she
wanted to drain him to the very dregs of his orgasmic passion. The tickling
sensation between her legs was almost unbearable now, and she writhed
uncontrollably, grinding her knees into the thick pile of the carpet until
they were raw and red.
 
Finally it was over, and with a great sigh of relief, Art released
her. Susan sank back onto the carpet, shaking with the effort of her labors
and with her own hotly inciting but still unrelieved desire. She huddled in
a heap on the floor, numb, aware only of the agonizing ache between her
quivering thighs and the fire that raged unquenched through every part of
her being. Suddenly she became aware that she was being watched, and
looking up, she saw Art, still towering over her, grinning down at her
knowingly. Feeling herself flush with embarrassment, she hastily averted
her eyes.
 
"Don't worry, slut, your hot little pussy'll get filled up soon
enough," he mocked her.
 
"Hey, anybody home?" The now familiar sound of Tanya's voice echoed
cheerily, followed by the sound of the back door slamming.
 
"Well, well, well," Art said delightedly, looking past her into the
kitchen, "looks like we've got company."
 
Startled, Susan turned to follow his gaze. Tanya had indeed returned,
but she wasn't alone!



 
CHAPTER SIX

 
Susan struggled dazedly to her feet as Tanya and the male newcomer
entered the hallway. The thoroughly debased housewife made no attempt now
to cover her nakedness, for she had been subjected to so much humiliation
in the last few hours that it seemed futile to make a gesture of modesty in
the face of so much shameful perversion. Yet a frosty shiver of degradation
wafted like a winter wind through her vulnerable young frame as the strange
man drew near.
 
He was tall, in his mid-thirties, with an extremely powerful
well-built body. He was dressed in a faded blue denim shirt that was open
nearly to the navel revealing a dark curling mat of chest hair. He wore
extremely tight black denim trousers that clung like a second skin to his
muscular hips and legs, flaring slightly at the bottom around the blackjack
boots he wore. The stranger's face was rough and craggy, plainly of
working-class character, with a strong, chiseled nose, cruelly sensual
lips, and coal black eyes that seemed to pierce right into the trembling
young housewife's soul. His black hair was thick and coarse, curling around
his ears and collar in an unkempt fashion. Susan guessed he was Italian or
Greek in origin.
 
"Holy shit!" Art exclaimed, making his way to the newcomer, "Sal!
Where the hell did you come from?"
 
"Tanya found me, in the liquor store," he replied in a heavy
masculine voice, never once taking his eyes off Susan's white gleaming
body.
 
"It was incredible, Art," Tanya chattered as she unloaded a bag full
of liquor bottles. "I just walk into this place in the shopping center and
there's old Sal, big as life. I damn near peed in my pants when I saw him.
I let out such a yelp the guy behind the counter must have thought I was
completely nuts. Anyways I invited him over, figured one more wouldn't
hurt. Was it okay?"
 
"Okay?" Art answered, "It's more than okay, it's great! By the way
Sal, this here's Susie. She's lettin' us stay here 'til her husband comes
back. Nice piece of ass, huh?"
 
Sal eyed the young wife steadily, then broke into a wide grin.
 
"Art, you old bastard, you're still the same. I thought they had you
locked up somewhere in Georgia and away from the action"
 
"Nobody locked me up nowhere," Art replied, his voice taking on a
sharp tone. He glanced furtively at Susan for a moment, then back to his
friend. "Understand?"
 
Sal nodded slowly.
 
"I dig the scene, man," he said. "So stay cool, Art. You can trust
old Sal."
 
The young wife had great difficulty understanding them when they
spoke, as they seemed to have a code-like language that eluded her. She
felt sure that Sal's brief reference to Art's being "locked up" must have
meant a prison or, and she shook slightly as she thought of this, a mental
hospital. There was no question in her mind that her young tormentor was
unbalanced, and the idea that he might indeed be an escaped mental patient
tore through her brain like a bolt of lightning. Yet she was careful not to
betray her thoughts to any of them. If there was one thing she was
learning, and learning fast, it was that Art, Sal, and even Tanya, meant
business, and her best chances of survival lay in total submission to their
demands.
 
"Tanya, get some drinks together while me and Sal bullshit together.
We ain't had a good long talk in some time."
 
"Sure sweeties," the voluptuous blonde said as she sailed into the
kitchen. "What are you drinkin'?"
 
"What's the order, Sal?" Art asked.
 
"Scotch, man, always Scotch."
 
"Oh yeah, I forgot that's what you like. No ice, no soda, no nothin',
right?"
 
"Right, straight booze."
 
"Scotch all around, baby," Art called to his girlfriend.
 
"Should should I help her?" Susan asked meekly.
 
"No," her young captor replied with a slit-eyed smile. "Tanya'll take
care of it real good. You come with us. Sal, you wouldn't believe it, but
this little cunt can suck a cock with the best of 'em. She's a real good
mascot to have around."
 
"Yeah, I can see that," he replied. Staring hungrily at Susan, the
powerfully built man reached down and stroked the huge mound his ample
genitals made in the crotch of his skintight jeans. The young housewife
couldn't keep herself from glancing down as he did this, and she realized
with a shock that he wore no underwear, for his semi-erect cock pressed
against the thin material of his jeans like a thick piece of rubber hose,
clearly outlined.
 
Suddenly Art pushed Susan roughly and indicated for her to go into
the living room ahead of them. The naked young man and his swarthy friend
sauntered in behind her, and immediately Art sprawled on a big easy chair.
 
"Stretch out on the couch, Sal, and relax. We can have a real nice
party this afternoon, 'cause this bitch's husband don't come back 'til at
least tomorrow."
 
Sal stretched out on the couch, boots and all, soiling the
light-colored upholstery immediately. Susan, who stood awkwardly in the
center of the room, winced as she watched the muscular stranger grinding
oily stains into the material. Both men noticed her reaction.
 
"The little princess don't like it when her house gets messed up,"
Art snarled. "Look at all this crap around here. Seems to me it could use
some redecoratin', don't you think, Sal?"
 
"No doubt about it," Sal chuckled. "No doubt at all."
 
Sneering at Susan, Art casually picked up a delicate antique figurine
of a shepherdess and threw it hard against the wall where it promptly
shattered into a million pieces. It was all the ravaged young wife could do
to keep herself from crying out in protest and anger.
 
"Look how uptight she gets when somethin' gets busted," the younger
man taunted. "What's the matter, cunt? Don't like it when bums like me get
your pretty house dirty? Well there ain't nothin' you can do about it, so
keep smilin'. Trouble with you is you ain't got nothin' else to think
about. So, come on over here and suck on my cock again while I'm talkin' to
my old pal. It makes me feel real good when you do it."
 
Susan stood as if paralyzed. Surely he wouldn't treat her like this
in front of a total stranger! Didn't he have one ounce of decency in his
entire body?
 
"I said come over here, cunt, and do what I tell you. Suck on my
prick. Then maybe Sal'll let you work on him for awhile, too. His cock's
even bigger than mine. Ain't it Sal? Show it to her!"
 
Sal laughed crudely and promptly stood up, unbuttoned and unzipped
the front of his tight pants, and yanked them down over his muscular hips.
Susan gulped anxiously and realized that her suspicion that he wore no
underwear was completely true, for at once Sal's obscenely pulsing cock and
balls were totally revealed to her shocked gaze.
 
"Look at the chick," Art said, laughing, "she can't believe how big
they are, man. I bet her mouth's just droolin'. Well, me first, cunt. Come
on over and suck on me for awhile. And take them pants off, Sal," he said
as his friend began to pull his jeans up. "We're all gonna stay naked
today, so we don't have to waste time dressin' and undressin'."
 
"Fine idea, man," Sal said happily, as he began to take his pants
down again.
 
"And you, Susie, you kneel down between my legs here like an obedient
bitch and kiss my prick awhile."
 
Burning with shame, the young wife did as she was told, kneeling down
in front of her young master and taking his cock in her mouth. His
thick-fleshed rod was soft now, and still wet from his recent ejaculation.
It was easier for Susan to encompass it in her mouth and, grateful for the
fact that at least it wasn't swollen like a steel piston, she began to
absorb herself in sucking it, even exploring it with her mouth. Strangely,
she found that by directing her attention totally to it she could shut the
horror of her situation out of her mind. Soon, nothing existed for her
except the column of limp pulsing flesh between her lips as she sucked at
it and caressed it. Art moaned pleasantly as she explored his genitals, and
slumped forward in the chair. Dimly she was aware of their conversation.
 
"So what have you been doing, Sal?" Art asked. "How the hell did you
wind up out here?"
 
"Ah, some aunt that lives in Chicago died and I hadda come up for the
funeral. I been layin' low for a couple of months, and I didn't think it
would be too cool to wander around the city, so I got a motel near here.
Gotta get back tonight. Some kind of goddamn family thing. It's a drag, but
hell, family is family, and I didn't want to get my mother upset by not
comin'. So anyway I'm dyin' for some booze, so I drive around 'til I find
this shopping center. I figure there won't be many cops around so I go in.
Next minute there's fuckin' Tanya droppin' her panties she's so excited. So
here I am. Nuts, ain't it?"
 
"Yeah, but I'm glad to see you, man." Art squirmed around in lewd
pleasure as Susan continued to suck at his steadily rising cock. He gripped
her head and pressed her face hard against his groin, grinding his hips in
a slow rotary motion. "This bitch does a real good job for an amateur, Sal,
real good."
 
His muscular friend laughed and stretched his naked body out on the
sofa, absently fondling his genitals with his hand, while he watched
Susan's naked back and buttocks hunched over between Art's legs.
 
"Yeah, this is the life, man. Say, how'd you come to be here,
anyway?"
 
"Pure luck, man, pure luck."
 
In the next moment Tanya entered the room with a tray of glasses
filled with Scotch.
 
"Here's the booze, gents," she said as she approached them.
 
"About time, too," Art snapped. He roughly pushed Susan away from his
warmly throbbing cock, and she fell in a heap on the carpet while her
tormentor calmly took a glass half-filled with amber-colored liquid from
the tray. "Give the bitch a drink too," he told his blonde girl friend.
 
"I I'd rather not drink," Susan murmured from her crumpled position
on the floor.
 
"Everybody's drinkin', bitch!" Art snarled. "So I advise you to slug
it down if you don't want me to pour it down your throat for you."
 
Miserably, the young wife pulled herself to a sitting position on the
floor and took a glass of straight Scotch from Tanya. The platinum-blonde
felt a twinge of pity for the defeated girl as she gave her the glass. She
had watched Art treat women crudely, before, but somehow Susan was
different. Tanya was surprised to feel a kind of sisterly affection for the
ravaged young wife, and she winked at her in the hopes that it might soothe
some of the pain and anguish the abused brunette was experiencing. Susan
caught the young blonde's quick gesture of comfort and was both surprised
and grateful at the same time. Up until now she had been as repelled by
Tanya as by the men, despite the fact that her enforced oral copulation
with Art's girl friend had been unexpectedly quite exciting. But now, in
her degraded state, the brief flash of warmth and encouragement meant as
much to the brutalized young housewife as a wealth of extravagant praise.
She smiled shyly back at Tanya, hoping to convey her heartfelt thanks, but
the other female had already moved away to serve Sal.
 
"Drink up, Susie," Art commanded, bringing the imprisoned young girl
abruptly back to reality. Complying immediately, she sipped from her glass
and immediately choked as the hot undiluted Scotch coursed down her throat.
She rarely drank, and never anything so strong. Her naked body shuddered
from it, and she was very reluctant to drink more. "Don't stop now, cunt,
'cause we got a long day ahead of us, get me?"
 
Susan looked up at her young torturer dismally. He sat arrogantly in
the huge armchair, leering down at her with the look in his eyes that Tim's
young wife had become quite familiar with in the last few hours  a look
that contained an odd mixture of cruelty, lust and hatred that never failed
to raise goosebumps on her skin and send an ice-cold stream of fear curling
up her backbone. Closing her eyes to shut the fiendish smile from her
sight, she brought the glass of Scotch once more to her trembling lips and 
took a larger swallow.


 
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Inter-State Airlines flight number
783 to Chicago. We regret the delay the strike may have caused you, and
hope your flight will be a pleasant one"
 
Tim Jameson settled back into the window seat as the stewardess
continued to talk into the microphone, giving the same speech he had heard
over and over again. Impatiently he buckled his seat belt, anxious for the
take-off. The strike had been settled unexpectedly by mid-Saturday
afternoon, and he had luckily finagled his way onto the first flight to
Chicago. It had all happened so fast he hadn't had a chance to call Susan,
preferring to surprise her with his return rather than risk missing the
flight. The delay had been maddening, of course, but he had made some
excellent contacts in the Hotel Anderson bar while he was waiting for the
strike settlement, and had a firm offer of a better-paying job with Everest
Mutual. He felt good, proud that he had been able to turn one annoying
situation into something very positive, and he looked forward to seeing
Susan again and telling her all about it.
 
Susan. His mind had been turning the image of his pretty young bride
over and over ever since he had left her on Monday. Things had looked so
hopeless between them, then their marriage seemed to be falling apart at
the seams. But somehow, a week away from home had put everything into a new
perspective. Hell, he thought, just getting a load of some of the cheap,
painted-up dames these other guys have for wives makes Susan seem like a
goddamn movie star to me. He had even thought of cheating on her, like some
of the other guys did the minute they got away from home. God knows he had
plenty of reason, all those frustrating nights of disappointing sex. Still,
adultery wasn't something to be taken lightly. He had seen other guys
inventing elaborate alibis so their mates wouldn't suspect their
philandering and he didn't want that kind of life. Nobody could match Susan
for looks, and God knows her body was absolutely sensational. Maybe it
would take a lot longer for her to break out of her frigidity and fear than
he had thought, but it was worth a try.
 
This'!! be like a new start for us, he mused as the giant jet engines
began to roar and the plane commenced its speedily mounting rush down the
runway.
 
Susan, darlin', I'm on my way.


 
Blaring rock and roll music filled the living room of the Jameson
house. The curtains and shades were all drawn, and the room was lit by
lamps, though it was just past three in the afternoon. Sal lay stretched
out on the sofa, and Art lay sprawled on his back on the carpeted floor
while Susan, at his command, was licking his naked muscular body from head
to foot with her servile tongue. Tanya, now naked again, was dancing in the
center of the room, grinding her hips furiously to the lurid beat of the
rock music. All of them were heavily drunk.
 
The effects of the liquor had long since taken their toll on the
sex-ravaged young housewife, for her mind was now tingling with alcoholic
euphoria, and her body, abused past all reason, was excitedly alive and
rippling with erotic pleasure. She was licking and sucking hungrily on the
young drifter's toes, well past the point of being troubled by her
conscience. After almost twenty-four hours of brutalization and rape by the
young stranger and his blonde girl friend, she no longer cared about
anything. Even Tim and the possibility of rescue had long since fled from
her mind. Her voluptuous body, too long denied the pleasures of the flesh,
now hungrily submitted to her youthful tormentor's slightest whim, and she
was so drunk and incoherent that she actually yearned for him to rape her
again and again, to transport her to the excruciating pinnacles of
shameless passion that she had come to know only in the last twenty-four
hours.
 
I'm a whore now, she thought as she ran her tongue greedily up the
cruel youth's inner thigh, a disgusting whore so you see, Miss Whitfield,
where all your lectures got me I'm licking the naked body of a strange,
sick young man and I love it. I LOVE IT!
 
"Say, that chick's really goin' to town," Sal remarked drunkenly as
he watched the ravishing brunette madly licking Art's body. "It's gettin'
me real hot, man, real hot. When do I get my turn?"
 
"Comin' up, old friend," Art murmured as Susan began to suck under
his armpits with hungry fervor.
 
Still dancing frantically in the center of the room, Tanya found
herself growing jealous of all the attention that was being showered on the
young housewife. Yet she knew better than to show it, remembering the heavy
slaps Art was apt to give her if she made her feelings known. Hell, they
like new meat, she reminded herself. Both Art and Sal have fucked me every
which way from Sunday at one time or other,
 
Still, no matter how she tried to avoid it, she was growing horny as
hell and needed satisfaction. At that moment, her eye fell on a candle in a
silver candelabra on an end table. Tanya, honey, she thought to herself, do
you dare? Her loins burned with the need for release, and her cuntal
interior was already nearly drenched with fluid from the erotic excitement
she had induced in herself by dancing. Her Scotch-fogged brain sizzled with
delight as the idea began to form in her mind. The men were ignoring her,
preferring to get their kicks with an unfamiliar girl, so that left her
free to get her own kicks any way she wanted.
 
The others in the room were completely oblivious to Tanya's thoughts
at the moment, for Susan was lustily absorbed in licking Art's throat and
shoulders, much to the obscene pleasure of the two men. The younger male
lay back like a primitive jungle chieftain while his slave girl paid him
tribute with her voraciously licking mouth and tongue. He lay back
passively, his lean muscular body rippling with steadily mounting pleasure 
as Susan continued her lewd oral ministrations. Sal ogled the lurid sight
hungrily, his enormous cock stiffly erect and aching almost painfully with
torrid desire. The strapping man grew hotter by the minute as he watched
the captive housewife slithering over his friend's tightly muscled body,
her mouth and hands exploring his lean frame like a sex-driven servant of
the devil.
 
"Hey, fuck it, Art," he growled drunkenly. "it's my turn now my
prick's jerkin' like mad to get inside that dame."
 
"Okay, man," the other replied lazily. "She's all yours. Take her,
Sal."
 
Hungrily, Sal strode over and gripped Susan by her arm, pulling her
suddenly off Art's wetly glistening body, and forced her to lay on her back
on the carpet. The sight of her supple translucent flesh made him tremble
with an excitement that shuddered through his powerful frame like bursts of
rolling thunder. His enormous cock lurched like a long-necked
serpent-monster, greedy to devour its helpless victim.
 
"Now that's what I'd call a nice pair of tits," he grunted as his
eyes fell leeringly on Susan's quivering upthrust mounds.
 
The tortured young wife was so drunk and numbed now that she was no
longer human. She was a tormented animal, totally possessed by the cravings
of her flesh. Her ripe young breasts throbbed hotly under Sal's hungry
gaze, and her pink nipples rose to taut hardness. Sal straddled his legs on
either side of her hips, then knelt, bending down so that his thick lips
closed around first one softly pulsing breast, then the other, sucking and
biting at the tender upthrust mounds like a starving dog suddenly thrown a
bone. At the same time he reached around with one hand and thrust his
outstretched middle finger straight up into her heavily moistened cuntal
passage, making the drunken young bride groan with pleasure. He wormed his
finger around in the fiery hot vaginal channel fiercely, hoping to elicit a
howl of agony from the girl. Nothing excited him more than hurting a frail
young creature like Susan, asserting his male superiority with painful
emphasis. But no matter how he drove his finger upwards, no matter how hard
he sucked and bit on her pliant breasts, she only mewled with ecstasy, lost
in an alcohol fog of surging desire.
 
Suddenly the swarthy male pulled away, leaving Susan's pyramidal
nipples nearly red and raw from his vicious sucking, and her deserted cunt
blazing with unsatisfied passion.
 
"Art, turn her over," he snarled, "I'm gonna give her a special
treat."
 
Quickly the younger male bent down and gripped Susan's hips with his
hands, forcing her to turn over on her stomach, while his eyes eagerly
drank in the gleaming whiteness of her skin. The inebriated young housewife
lay exhausted on the floor, her stomach and breasts pressing into the soft
pile of the carpet, her firmly rounded buttocks quivering from the streams
of excitement that flowed without diminution throughout her sex-hungry
body.
 
Sal stood at her feet, while his thick monstrous cock, long and
muscular, grew even more erect and jerked lewdly at the sight of her
helpless exposed buttocks. Then he stopped, grabbed both of the subjugated
girl's ankles, and yanked at them harshly, splaying her legs wide apart. An
idea had been forming in the back of his mind, a way of eliciting a little
cry of torture from the ravishing nineteen year old who lay expectantly on
the floor before him. He dropped to his knees between the girl's legs and
ran his hands roughly over the long tapering lines of her trembling calves
and up inside her sleek young thighs to the hotly moist vee up between her
legs. The shadowy cuntal cleft up between her thighs was deep and inviting,
and Sal growled in rising excitement as he ran the edge of his hand down
the smooth crease of the young wife's vulnerable ass-cheeks, parting them
slightly so that her tiny puckered anus was visible to his lewdly gaping
eyes.
 
The imprisoned young wife shuddered with a flicker of fear as she
felt the muscular man probe her anal crevice. No one had touched her there
before, except Tim on the Monday of his departure. Now suddenly she was
reminded of that fateful afternoon, and wondered anxiously if Sal had the
same thing in mind for her.
 
The older man leered down at the cowering girl and slowly drew aside
the smooth white globes of her buttocks. She instinctively clenched them
together, but he dug his fingers hard into the curved orbs, forcing them
apart. At that moment, Susan realized that the brutal male was not only
going to take her from behind, but possibly in the anus! A soul-searing
moan of agony and protest rumbled up from her throat, cutting through the
thick fog of submission and sensual frenzy that had enveloped her. But Sal
was pleased by her sudden resistance. It told him that she had an inkling
of what was in store and she didn't like it.
 
Well that's just fine, he thought drunkenly, licking his lips
salaciously as the tight brown ring of her anal entrance contracted
fearfully. That's the way I like it when they scream and cry.
 
He pushed one hand down and thrust experimentally at the puckered
little anus with his stiffened middle finger. The frightened young
housewife jerked forward and cried out in terror as she felt his finger
begin to intrude harshly into her tightly resisting nether ring. Oh please,
she cried inwardly, not this! NOT THIS! She pressed her pelvis hard into
the rug, her buttocks tensing together to escape Sal's finger being thrust
into her rectal depths, but her gesture was useless, for be burrowed
forward again, sinking the thick finger to the first knuckle.
 
"Aaaaaiiieeeee!!!!" she gasped pitifully as he skewered his finger
into her abused little rectal hole, sadistically sinking it in up to the
second knuckle. She groaned aloud in tortured agony, but she knew any cry
for pity was useless. With a deep sob, she relaxed her sphincter muscles
and let him do as he wished, steeling herself for the pain she knew would
follow and hoping it would not last long.
 
With his free hand, Sal began to stroke his heatedly swollen cock, 
preparatory to sticking it into the defenseless young wife spread-eagled on
her belly beneath him. He pulled the thick foreskin back with his thumb and
forefinger, exposing the huge bulbous head, and aimed the lengthy
instrument directly at the tight puckered hole now partially stretched from
the brutal rummaging of his middle finger.
 
He opened her fearfully trembling buttocks-cleft again with his
thumbs, withdrawing his finger and leaning forward to drop a large gob of
spittle to lubricate his entry. Then he leaned forward, pressing the whole
of his body against her back. His massive pulsating cock slid along the
perspiration-dampened crevice until the tip rested against the tiny
throbbing hole, shining wetly from his spit. Then levering himself up on
his elbows, he pressed slightly with his hips, directing his desire-swollen
penis straight into the tightly clenched opening. Mercilessly he bore down
on her, forcing his huge cock-head cruelly forward into her cringing little
anus.
 
Art, who had retreated to the armchair once again, watched in lewd
fascination as the impaled young housewife groaned in torment and writhed
in pain. His thick erect penis was pounding with excitement and jerked
straight up in angry lust. Never taking his eyes from the obscene sight of
his muscular friend boring his massive cock between Susan's stretched and
trembling ass-cheeks, he gripped his rigid cock with his hand and began to
pump it up and down eagerly. He wanted to fuck her again, and his time
would come soon, he knew, very soon.
 
"Nooo!" Susan gasped as Sal's hotly inflamed penis finally hammered
its brutal way right up into the painfully expanded depths of her rectum.
Now, miraculously, it was in all the way to the hilt. She shuddered
spasmodically for a moment and then lay still to ease the pain of the
vicious intrusion. It was completely useless to resist any further.
 
"This cunt has a real tight asshole," Sal grunted, "just the way I
like 'em."
 
He reached down, grasping her firmly rounded hips in his hands, and
pulled her up on to her knees, bending her subservient body unmercifully.
Then he began to fuck in and out of her searing virginal rectum with long
smooth strokes, making the agonized young wife cry out in pain and
humiliation.
 
Art, riveted to the scene, was jerking frantically at his lewdly
excited penis, nearly out of his mind with perverted delight. Tanya,
meanwhile, had retreated to a dim corner of the living room, and was also
watching the brutal anal impalement of the captive young wife. Despite her
sympathy for Susan, her own corrupt sense of pleasure was thrilled by the
depraved scene she was witnessing. Her hand clutched a long yellow wax
candle that she had quietly snatched from the candleholder, and she sat
with her back leaning against the wall, slumped forward so that her pink
glistening little pussy was completely exposed, and brought the wick-tipped
point of the candle directly to her vaginal opening, rotating it around and
around over the hotly excited flesh. Then, as she watched Sal begin to 
drive his hugely stiffened penis into Susan's boiling young rectum with
brutal frantic strokes, she suddenly thrust the cool waxy candle upwards
into her vaginal interior.
 
"Mmmmmmn," she mewled excitedly as the slender instrument slid easily
up her lust-moistened cuntal walls, "ooooooohhh"
 
She began to thrust the candle in and out of her proffered pussy,
slumping further down and pulling her knees up to give her easier entry,
driving the waxy phallus all the way up until it slammed against the
shuddering flesh of her cervix, then pulling it all the way out with a wet
sluicing sound. She continued to fuck herself with the candle with mounting
frenzy as she watched the torrid anal rape taking place a few yards away
from her.
 
Unconscious of what his blonde girl friend was doing, Art suddenly
lunged from the armchair, too excited now to hold back from joining the
orgy.
 
"Hey Sal, turn her on her side so I can join in, huh?"
 
"Sure, man," his friend replied with a laugh. Locking his hands,
tightly to Susan's hips, he rolled to the side, pulling her hard against
his chest. His throbbing cock was still embedded deep up inside her hotly
quivering anus as she lay full-length on her side.
 
The younger man lost no time in pulling the brutalized young
housewife's free leg up so that it dangled over Sal's thighs, and her
pulsingly hot vagina was helplessly exposed just above the ruddy stalk of
Sal's penis. Then he grasped his painfully lusting cock, swiftly positioned
himself on his side facing the agonized bride, and rammed forward with all
his youthful strength, his long hard thickness slipping quickly into
Susan's wet stretched pussy.
 
"Uuuuunnnggggghhhh!!" she groaned as its heatedly throbbing length
slithered Up into her vaginal depths, joining Sal's cock, already buried in
her burning rectal channel, only a thin membrane away. The impaled young
wife lay moaning and sobbing, sandwiched tightly between their huge
skewering penises like an insect, with only the narrow wall of tissue
between her anus and vagina to separate the two vicious instruments of
torture. She was face to face with Art, his cruel leering eyes boring into
her like knives as he gripped her shoulders roughly for support, his
fingernails digging into her flesh and adding another measure of cringing
pain. Then he kissed her harshly with his wet sensual lips and began to
fuck into her hotly penetrated pussy.
 
The young drifter drove into her frenziedly while Sal burrowed with
merciless force into the hot depths of her rectum. After a few moments they
developed a natural rhythm, buffeting the helpless young wife between them
without mercy. She was groaning a single low whine of pain-racked defeat
that went on and on while they ground into her, interrupted only by sudden
cries of particularly intense agony when the impalement became more than
she could bear.
 
Meanwhile, in the shadows nearby, Tanya was nearly out of her mind 
with rampant pleasure as she fucked herself with the narrow candle, driving
it far up into her wet receptive cunt and rotating it wildly inside. Her
body shivered with excitement, and she tossed her bouffant mane of blonde
hair feverishly like a jungle animal gone berserk, mewling in pleasure, her
eyes rolling unseeing. Her lover and his long-time friend were fucking the
hell out of Susan, and the sight of it thrilled her to the depths of her
being. This, she realized lewdly, was why she loved Art so much. Who else
could provide her with this kind of excitement? Who else could make her
world so fantastically full of wanton enjoyment? Oh, she loved him, loved
him as she had never loved anybody. She didn't care who he fucked, or what
he did, just as long as she could be there. With a soul-searing moan of
lust, she drove the candle far up into her pussy, up practically into her
belly, while her loins churned with a steaming sensual heat that was
driving her crazy.
 
"Oh yesss," she groaned through clenched teeth, "yessss!!"
 
Only yards away from the voluptuous blonde, the young housewife
continued to cry out in pain. Her loins were stretched wide now by the two
thick rods of male flesh, and she was sure that she had reached the lowest
point of degradation that any woman had ever endured. Every inch of her
cream-white young body shuddered with stinging torturous pain, and she felt
drowned in humiliation, no longer even human.
 
But then, deep in her depraved ravaged body, she began to feel once
more the familiar churning of reawakening passion. The forbidden thrill of
pleasure that had taken hold of her many times now in the past two days
suddenly began to rise again from somewhere deep in her belly as the two
cruel men continued to fuck her savagely. Her skin began to ripple with a
flowing warmth and her alcohol-clouded brain reeled, pulling her away from
the shocking reality of her double rape into a raging torrent of bestial
enjoyment. Every nerve-ending in her body came alive as the swirling tides
of passion swept through her entire being. She was being mercilessly abused
and fucked by two strange men in her own living room, and now she began to
relish it, thrill to it, squirm her body in pure sensual response to it!
Shamelessly she began to return Art's rough kisses, clamping her lips
feverishly on his, eagerly giving vent to the wanton lust that now took
complete hold of her once again.
 
A raging hurricane of masochistic delight welled from the depths of
her degraded subjugation and charged her with sexual energy. She began to
gyrate her hips lewdly backward to meet the barbaric thrusts of Sal's
rigidly knifing cock, and then forward again to let her sex-greedy cunt
swallow the whole of Art's thick plunging penis. She undulated wildly
between the two males, one swarthy and hairy, the other lean and sinewy,
her hips rotating and heaving against them.
 
"Oooohhhhh fuuccckkk meeee goodddd!!!" She heard herself cry out like
a shameless whore, "Fuuuucccck mmeeeee!!!"
 
Urged on by her obvious change of attitude and lust-inciting cries,
the two men began to fuck her harder and more abandonedly. All three of 
them groaned in animalistic excitement and howled a bizarre cry of heated
orgiastic debauchery.
 
Tanya, meanwhile, was close to orgasm as she plunged the wetly
glistening candle in and out of her seething vagina. Her firmly full
breasts shook with torrid pleasure, and every inch of her body quaked with
obscene thrills. Suddenly she groaned deeply as her lust-driven cunt began
to explode with sizzling delight, as if bombs were going off inside, bombs
of soft, piercing flames that spread to every part of her obscenely jerking
young body. She was cumming, cumming with a torrent of female secretions
that gushed out of her candle-fucked vagina in warm streams and dripped
softly on the carpet beneath.
 
"Oooohhhhhhhh mmmmmyyyy Goooddddd!!!!" she hissed in luxuriant,
shameless passion, "Aaaaaaannnnggg!!!!"
 
Then, suddenly it was over, and the exhausted blonde withdrew the
drenched candle and flung it to the floor beside her. Through her
lust-glazed eyes she continued to watch Susan's double-fucking.
 
The young housewife was out of her mind with pleasure now, and she
began sobbing with mounting excitement as the heat in her uncontrollably
thrashing loins reached new heights. Her madly throbbing cuntal walls
secreted a sweet gushing fluid, evidence of her nearly incoherent delight,
and she began to scream insanely.
 
"I'm cumming cuuuuummmiiing!!!"
 
Her wantonly writhing body was delirious with ecstasy as orgasm after
orgasm rolled like reverberating thunder through her wet exploding cunt.
 
Sal and Art both sensed her overpowering excitement, and it inspired
them with renewed strength. Their two massively inflated cocks became
charged with raw male power as they fucked into her from both sides,
searing the twin channels of her belly like mighty cannons, sharing the
triumph of their brutalization of this helpless creature sandwiched between
their rampaging bodies.
 
"Ooohhh shhiitt!!!" Art groaned, as his sperm-bloated testicles
contracted and then began to erupt under the intolerable pressure. "Ahhh
ahhhhh ahhhhhh!"
 
And suddenly he was there, spurting wave after wave of white-hot cum
into Susan's furiously quaking cunt, emptying himself with deep guttural
moans wrenched from deep in his throat. Behind the squirming young wife and
his violently cumming friend, Sal held off as long as possible, preferring
to be the last to shoot his load. Yet the lewdly excited cries of orgasm
from Art and Susan charged him with such overwhelming passion that he could
now wait no longer, and he began to plunge his massive cock into Susan's
greedily clenching anus like a jackhammer. The heavy force of his thrusts
buffeted the others as he drove on and on like a wild bull. His enormously
swollen balls could no longer hold his churning semen, and the thick
boiling cum suddenly traveled up the massive length of his cock-shaft until
it burst through the parted glans into the dilated interior of Susan's
rectal depths, filling the young wife with a radiant burst of wet heat that
even further enhanced her throbbing delight.
 
The three-way orgasm seemed to go on forever, until finally Art
pulled his cock from Susan's drenched pussy and collapsed exhausted on the
floor, leaving only Sal to complete his last few hard strokes until he too,
was drained of his sperm. Then even Sal was still lying on the floor with
Susan's body still pressed tightly to his.
 
It was all the sodomized young wife could do to remain conscious
after the overwhelming experience of her double fuck. Nothing so shattering
had ever even remotely happened to her before, and her naked young body was
still bathed in the lascivious glow of her experience. She could feel Sal
withdrawing his limp rod from her stretched and seething rectum, leaving
her lying alone on her side on the soft carpet.
 
"Well, get a load of this, will ya," she heard Art saying. Turning
slowly, as if in a dream, she saw Tanya slumped against the wall near the
entranceway, her vaginal passage completely exposed and glistening with a
tell-tale moisture. Beside her lay the yellow candle, and there was a sly
smile on her face as she picked it up to indicate to her corrupt lover what
she had been up to while he had been fucking the young wife.
 
"Art, my man," Susan heard Sal remark, "that's a mighty fine gal you
got there, a mighty fine gal."



 
CHAPTER SEVEN

 
"Hey, dig this ashtray," Art shouted to Sal in the living room of the
Jameson house. He was holding a porcelain ashtray from Austria, a delicate
painted piece that was one of Susan's favorite objects. "Pure shit!"
 
He slammed the object against the wall and the distraught young
housewife shuddered miserably as it smashed to bits. The living room was a
complete mess now, bits of shattered china and broken knickknacks scattered
everywhere. After the long orgy, Sal, Tanya and Art had continued their
drinking spree and run through the house, completely naked, searching
through drawers, scattering belongings everywhere, while Susan watched
them, not permitted to raise even the feeblest protest. Art had forced her
to continue drinking also, and for awhile she had lost all consciousness of
her old identity, laughing drunkenly, dancing obscenely at their commands.
But now, as twilight faded into early evening, this latest wrecking spree
initiated by Art had begun to sober her up quite a bit. Her house, her
beautiful house that she had taken such pains to decorate, was being
destroyed. This had been her sanctuary, where she hoped to obliterate the
ugliness of her childhood and the haunting memory of Miss Whitfield and the
others, but now, thanks to Art and his corrupt friends, her cozy retreat
was being ruined.
 
"Hey, Susie, look at this," Art crowed as he entered the living room
from a brief sojourn on the upper floor. The young wife and Sal, who had 
stayed in the living room to keep an eye on her, glanced up in time to see
Tanya prance into the room with a long piece of white lace wrapped around
her firmly rounded young body. Susan recognized the material at once  it
was one of the long curtains that hung on the bedroom windows, gossamer
white lace. Now Art's blonde girl friend danced around the room with the
fragile fabric clutched around her curvaceous form. The material had
obviously been ripped down crudely, for there were large holes and tears in
the cloth. Tim's young wife felt tears gathering in the corners of her eyes
as she sat dismally in the armchair and watched the crude spectacle taking
place before her.
 
"The bitch is cryin', Art," Sal remarked with a sneer. "Look, she's
all uptight 'cause we're fuckin' up the house."
 
"Yeah, well cry your eyes out, cunt, 'cause we ain't through yet. I
guess you don't know what it's like to have to scrape your life together
like a beggar, huh? Livin' from hand to mouth. We never had shit like this,
big beautiful palaces that you pampered bitches live in all day readin'
magazines!"
 
Suddenly Susan felt a flash of anger welling up inside her, a torrent
of violent resentment that suddenly tore loose like a raging hurricane.
 
"It's not true!" she shouted, suddenly rising to her feet, shaking
with fury. "I wasn't born into this, I was an orphan, I lived without a
penny when I was a child, and all I had was a wooden bed! I never had
anything until I got married! Never! And now you and your filthy friends
are ruining it! You think you're the only ones who've had it hard, but
you're not! And I hate you! I hate all of you!"
 
There was a momentary silence in the room, as the others listened to
her unexpected angry speech in open-mouthed awe. Tanya let the material
fall from her tanned body, and glanced at Art and Sal. Susan's vicious
reaction was completely unexpected and took them all by surprise.
 
"Well, well, well," Art said calmly after a long silence, "so you've
got some guts after all, bitch. Good for you. Guess you ain't such a
mealy-mouthed chick as I thought. In fact I'd say you got as much anger
inside you as we got, maybe more, I don't know. But I tell you one thing,
sister, you got to let that anger out! All of it, and all this furniture
and crap won't mean a thing 'til you do. Take it from me, Susie, I got more
anger in me than any fifty people I know. You think I'm a pervert, maybe a
criminal, nuts too and maybe I am but I got a right to be! Oh, baby,
believe me I got a right to be. My old man was a junkie  he made my mother
whore for him to get bread for smack. And when I got old enough he made me
pimp for her. Sal here got sent up to prison when he was twelve for
stealin' some food so his family could eat."
 
"I never had nothin' either," Tanya said, looking directly at the
young wife. "All my life I've been treated like a piece of shit. Art here's
the first guy to take care of me nice. Guess you can't believe that, seein'
how we are. But it's true. Sure he knocks me around now and then"
 
"Yeah, but you like it, bitch," her boy friend reminded her.
 
"Sure, I like it. I like it the way you do it, honey. But that ain't
all sometimes when I'm real scared he'll cool me out and I don't feel
so scared no more. It's crazy, but nobody gave me so much as a pot to piss
in before. Art made me somebody, somebody I like bein'."
 
The young wife found herself listening to their stories with rapt
attention. She even experienced a certain amount of of sympathy toward
them. They had humiliated her beyond measure and were now destroying her
home, yet there was an odd kinship between them all, for all four of them
had struggled up from the very bottom of society's depths. It was ironic,
bitterly ironic, but true.
 
"So now you got a husband and a fine house," Art continued, "and all
we got's a fleabag existence runnin' from cops. But you're like us, baby,
you got a real big anger inside you, you got to let out. I know it, I know
it from the way you start howlin' like a dog when I fuck you, like you
ain't never had nothin' so good in your whole life. You're startin' to let
it out let it out all the way!"
 
"What what do you mean?" the young wife stammered nervously.
 
"I mean you got to let go of that anger like you mean it," the young
man replied. "That is, if you got the guts to do it."
 
Suddenly Susan understood something that she had struggled for years
to comprehend. No matter how she had tried before she could never let go,
particularly sexually. But with Art she had finally broken through her
resistance, and found, strange as it seemed, that she had begun to
experience her real self for the first time in her life, her real
sexuality. She knew now, knew with unshakable certainty, that it wasn't her
fear that had kept her locked up, but her anger. Anger at the world for
giving her a hopeless childhood, anger at Miss Whitfield for twisting her
mind and making sex a thing to be ashamed of, anger at herself for letting
herself be such a willing victim to so many lies and injustices. Maybe Art
had hit the nail right on the head, maybe the heart of the problem lay in
her anger, not her fear.
 
"But how how can I let it out?" she asked curiously. "I don't know
how to do it."
 
As if from nowhere, her youthful tormentor produced his switchblade
knife and snapped it open, making Susan start with fear.
 
"Don't worry, baby, this ain't for you. Watch." He went over to the
sofa, motioning for Sal to leave it, then plunged the knife into the soft
thickness of the upholstery on the seat and made a wide gash. At once
cotton stuffing erupted from the wide hole he made and steel springs shot
upward, ruining the couch.
 
"Don't!" the young wife shouted angrily.
 
"You see," Art said, turning to face her, "all this shit means more
to you than getting yourself straightened out. You're too scared to let it
out. Here. Take this knife, baby, and stick it in that armchair. Rip it to
god damn shreds and see what happens."
 
"Don't give her the knife, Art," Sal cautioned.
 
"It's okay, she won't do nothin'."
 
Casually he sauntered over to Susan and extended the knife to her.
 
"I I can't," she murmured. How could she destroy her own furniture,
how could she?
 
"Go on, baby, get mad. Just be careful you don't try nothin' fancy
with the knife on any of us. That wouldn't be too cool, not if you want to
stay alive. You're angry, real angry. Take it out on the chair. Go on."
 
Susan took the knife in her hand, trembling from head to foot. This
incomprehensible young man was asking her to plunge it into the armchair.
The cold instrument felt odd to hold. The young wife sensed a certain
feeling of power  cool, icy power as her fingers closed around the knife
handle. She felt almost sure she couldn't do as he asked, yet there was
something about the feel of it that almost gave her the courage she needed.
For a brief moment she thought of thrusting it at Art's naked body in a
dramatic attempt to free herself from their subjugation, but she knew that
was impossible. Even if she could bring herself to hurt another human being
like that, she knew the others would soon grab the knife away and maybe
even use it on her. She stared down at the armchair.
 
"Go on, honey," Tanya said, encouragingly, "go on and do it. You'll
be surprised how good it feels.
 
The nervous young wife glanced at each of them, and with a weak
gesture, she plunged the knife down into the arm of the chair and felt the
blade sink into the soft padding. She pulled it out.
 
"Again," Art said. "Harder, rip the goddamn thing up."
 
Susan began to plunge the knife into the chair as if stabbing a
stuffed dummy, and as she did a strange thing began to happen. She thought
of Miss Whitfield  and the endless torment she had endured because of her
and the anger came, wild raging anger. She began to plow the knife harder
and harder into the chair, venting her rage on the lifeless object,
stabbing it with all her heart. As she thrust the blade in, more memories,
horrible memories of her childhood rushed up from her subconscious, and her
rage increased, extending even to herself and her contemptible fear and
terror that had made a mockery of her marriage with Tim.
 
"Yesss yesssss!!" she suddenly found herself crying as she began to
rip the seat cushion to shreds. Bits of cotton stuffing began to fly all
over the room and she went on and on, letting her roaring, repressed anger
free at last. And a great weight seemed to lift from her naked body, as if
a thousand-pound stone had been suddenly taken from her back and shoulders.
She knew in that moment that Art was right, she needed to do this! She had
to do it!
 
"Look at 'er go," Sal commented, his lips split in a wide smile.
"Looks like she never had so much fun in her life."
 
With a cry of revenge, Susan rushed to the sofa, her eyes wild with
excitement and began to tear at it with the knife. The others looked at
each other with astonishment, then laughed. At once Tanya turned on the
radio, and raunchy rock and roll music blared forth, almost in perfect 
accompaniment to Susan's angry rampage. Soon the others were joining her,
ripping pillows apart, scattering material and padding everywhere, smashing
everything in sight.
 
The young wife was breathing heavily, sweat was pouring from her
forehead, as she let herself be enveloped by the torrential release of her
pent-up anger. There was an almost savage, sensual quality to it that made
her realize that her sexual terror was, as Art suspected, totally bound up
with her repressed hostility. She glanced around momentarily, watching the
others turn her living room into a complete shambles, and a strange
perverse smile crossed her contorted face.
 
"Good," she murmured to herself. "good! Good!"


 
"Where to, buddy?" the cab driver queried as Tim Jameson slipped into
the back seat.
 
"Green Woods," he replied, "61 Risely Lane."
 
"Quite a ways out."
 
"Yeah, I know. Could you hurry please?"
 
"Keep your shirt on buddy, the traffic through Chicago's real bad
tonight. It's gonna take awhile. Ain't no way I can hurry. And in this
heat, Christ, ain't it somethin'?"
 
"Yeah," the young husband mumbled as the cab crawled slowly out of
the congested airport ramp. It had been more than an hour now since his
arrival in Chicago and he was hot and tired, anxious to get home to Susan.
He still hadn't called her, and by this time he didn't care. All he wanted
to do was get home, take a hot shower, and fall into bed.
 
The driver had been right, of course, the traffic was incredible,
worse than he had ever seen, and with a deep sigh the young husband leaned
back against the seat and closed his eyes.
 
Christ, he thought with irritation, it's gonna take me about as much
time to get from the airport to the house as it took me to fly from Boston.
Couldn't even find a phone in working order at the airport to call home.
What a joke.


 
The house on Risely Lane was bursting with activity now. All four of
the wild orgiasts were drunk again, having polished off the Scotch and made
a solid dent in the stock of gin. They had raided the ice-box and made
sandwiches to give them enough energy to combat the wearying effects of all
the alcohol, and now they were sprawled naked amidst the wreckage that had
been the living room. Susan was nearly delirious from all the drinking and
the wild vengeance she had taken on her belongings. Her light brown hair
was a tangled disarray, and her eyes glittered with a bizarre kind of
satisfaction. Her life had become a total nightmare during the past two
days, and yet out of the abyss of her degradation, she had experienced many
overwhelming discoveries, not only sexual, but psychological, particularly 
in her enforced realization of her bottled-up anger. She gazed drunkenly
around the room, shocked to see the extent of damage that the four of them
had wreaked on the furniture and walls. Huge purple stains blotched the
white walls where full bottles of wine had been hurled against them.
Tables, chairs, and pillows were broken and destroyed. The carpet was
heavily stained with the cum of their sexual excesses, and bits of
shattered china and porcelain lay everywhere from broken vases, ashtrays
and other objects.
 
"Say, man," Sal slurred drunkenly from his position on the floor,
"what the hell time is it? I'm supposed to be at that goddamn family
gathering tonight."
 
"Too late now," Art said, laughing. "Looks like you're stuck here for
the night."
 
"Shit, I can't do that. I gotta get goin'."
 
The muscular dark man made an attempt to get up, but was too tipsy
with alcohol to manage it. He slumped back onto the floor with a heavy
sigh.
 
"You can't make it, man. So just relax," the younger man remarked.
"Besides, the night's still young. You can still get your pecker up, can't
you?"
 
"Sure man, but hell, this room's so full of broken glass we're gonna
cut ourselves to ribbons."
 
"We'll go to another room, that's all. There's a real nice bedroom on
the second floor we ain't even touched yet."
 
At once Tanya got up, picked her way delicately through the chaos,
and started up the stairs. Sal rose too, though with difficulty, and
stumbled toward the hallway stairs.
 
"You too, Susie," the young captor said. "We ain't through with you
yet."
 
Wearily the young wife pulled herself to her feet and made her way
through the cluttered living room toward the stairs. By the time she
entered the bedroom, she found Tanya lying there, her young body sprawled
lewdly across the bed. Sal lurched across the room and threw himself down,
burying his head in Tanya's eagerly proffered pussy, and began to suck at
her glistening cunt-lips with drunken abandon while the curvaceous blonde
squealed and wriggled excitedly. Susan stood numbly in the doorway,
watching them, as Art came in behind her and embraced her, clamping his
hands on the firmly resilient mounds of her breasts and rubbing them
harshly, at the same time grinding his pelvis against her smooth white
buttocks.
 
"Gonna take you up the ass now, baby, the way Sal did," he whispered
in her ear. "I ain't had my prick up there yet."
 
Susan was too exhausted to protest, although her heart sank when she
realized she would be abused yet again in that still-aching rectal passage.
As the cruel young man rotated his hips behind her, she could feel his
penis begin to stiffen as it rubbed the tender place where her buttocks met
her thighs, and despite her weariness, she began to anticipate the
excitement she knew she would experience when he entered her and began to
saw away at her anal canal. Suddenly her alcohol-clouded brain began to
crave having the bestial young man fuck her from behind. Her lush young
body quivered from head to foot as she began to wriggle her ass-cheeks
lewdly back against his rapidly hardening cock-shaft. Her conversion had
been so total in the last two days that she now greedily welcomed the
possibility of yet another explosion of animal sensuality, longed to have
Art's thickly distended cock rammed up inside her loins, whether from the
vagina or the rectum. What did it matter now?
 
Suddenly Art pushed her forward so that she fell onto the bed next to
Tanya and Sal, and yanked her legs wide apart so harshly that a stab of
pain shuddered up through her entire body. But she didn't resist. She had
come not only to endure but even to love the pain for it wasn't pain in the
purest sense of the word, but a pain mixed with a torturous kind of
pleasure that she desperately wanted, desperately needed.
 
"Oh give it to me, Art, shove it up into my ass! Hurry!" she found
herself moaning.
 
The young drifter smiled triumphantly to himself, knowing his
perversion of the formerly innocent young bride was now complete. Yesterday
she had fought like a tiger to resist him, and now, now she was pleading
for him to hurt her, fuck her, torture her, anything he wanted! He had done
it again, and his cock was stiff as steel with desire and jerking
frantically straight out from his dark tangle of pubic hair, aching to
thrust into the tiny brown opening between Susan's undulating buttocks.
With no further preparation, he suddenly threw himself on top of her and
snaked his hand down to position his obscenely lurching shaft at the
puckered anal entrance. Then, with a vicious flick of his hips, he bored
into it, forcing his gigantic penis through the tiny ring without so much
as a drop of spittle to lubricate the way.
 
"Aaaaaaieeerrrgggghhhh!!!" the young wife screeched in utter torment.
She hadn't expected it would hurt this much! At least Sal had prepared her
somewhat for his sodomizing, using his finger and some spit to ease the
way, but Art was knifing into her with no lubricant whatsoever. His
massively swollen cock was already halfway up her hot rectal channel, and
even the remains of Sal's cum that was still lodged deep in her anal
passage did nothing to soften the burning torture of his entry. Her
violated anus felt as if it were on fire, or as if a red-hot poker had been
thrust up inside! It was horrible, and this sudden explosion of raw pain
made the young housewife cry in agony. "Pleeeeaasseeee!!! It
huuurrrttttssss!!!"
 
"Good," Art snarled drunkenly, "that's how I like it. It ain't no fun
if it don't. Dig it sweetheart, life hurts, too. Like this!"
 
He shoved the thick length of his cock all the way in to the hilt
with a tissue-bruising lunge that elicited a hoarse moan of painful protest
from the degraded young bride. Surely he would tear her apart! She couldn't
stand it, not a minute more!
 
Suddenly he began to fuck her, not slowly at first, the way Sal had
done, but rough and hard right away, so she felt as if swords were chopping
away at her insides. Tears of agony came to her eyes as Art drove into her
with jackhammer force, ripping at her seared anal passage with his
monstrously impaling cock, driving like a madman up into her constricted
anus.
 
How can he do this, she thought miserably, after all that's happened?
He had almost seemed to become human earlier in the evening when they had
talked, and he had convinced her to give vent to her anger. How could he do
this to her now? But she had no time to think further about her situation,
for she was suffering almost beyond endurance from the brutally painful
blows her young tormentor thrust into her with his rock-hard cock-shaft.
 
Next to them on the bed, Sal had suddenly pulled away from Tanya's
hotly pulsing cuntal slit. His massive black penis was stiff as a board
now, and he scrambled up and knelt with his knees on either side of the
blonde girl's face. Then, gripping his blood-engorged cock, he shoved it
into her mouth. Tanya, used to such frenzied sensuality, immediately began
sucking on the swarthy man's enormously thick rod with great skill, as her
throat opened hungrily to encompass its massive bulk.
 
"Oooohhhhhhh suck it good bitch! Suck it gooodddddd!!" Sal groaned as
the voluptuous blonde pulled mightily at his lust-swollen hardness, causing
shivers of barbarous passion to shoot through his loins. "Tanya you are one
hell of a cock sucker!"
 
Beside them, Susan Jameson writhed in agony as Art drove his rigid
cock up into her tensely resistant rectal channel, slicing in and out of
her with merciless fury. The young southerner couldn't get enough rough sex
to satisfy him. His throbbing genitals seemed to demand an almost constant
daily round of arousal and ejaculation, and the rougher and more painful it
was, the better he liked it. He gripped the young housewife's petite white
shoulders fiercely as he lunged his hips back and forth with maniacal
force, bludgeoning her raw anal depths with sadistic pleasure.
 
"Uunnnnnggggghhhhhhh!" the ravaged young bride cried in torment,
"Nooo!!!!"
 
"Take it bitch!" he howled back, gritting his teeth as he smote her
battered buttocks uncontrollably, "Take ittttt!!!!"
 
Susan was on the verge of fainting from his savage attack. Nothing in
the past two days had been as remotely painful as this. Her entire young
body ached fiercely now, and torturous spasms traveled up her back like
lead bullets. Yet just as a deep swirling blackness threatened to submerge
her in the blessed realms of unconsciousness, an unexpected shudder tore
through her body announcing the welcome transformation  and soon it came
again, the churning sensation in her loins that she had come to crave, the
shivery ripples of pure sensuality, the fantastic sprays of delight that
always heralded the release of her baser instincts! Her cries of alarm and
pain began to subside, and in their place came low moans of unmitigated 
pleasure! It had happened again, she had transcended her pain and
re-entered the world of radiant ecstasy  brimming with happiness she
suddenly threw her head back and groaned in joy.
 
"Oohhhh yeeesssss fuuucccckkk meeeee goooooddd!!"


 
A few moments later a cab came to a halt outside the house and Tim
Jameson stepped out. As the car pulled away, he glanced up at his familiar
home and stared. Something was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on it, but
something was definitely wrong. Every light in the house was blazing, and
generally Susan was quite conscientious about using only the lights that
were necessary in order to save money on electric bills.
 
"Christ, it looks like a Christmas tree," he muttered to himself as
he made his way up the front walk. Then he noticed that there was a strange
car in the driveway behind their station wagon, one the young husband
couldn't identify. The instinctive feeling that something funny was
happening increased, and he stopped a few yards away, from his front door.
Glancing up at the bedroom window, he seemed to see shadows passing in
front of the light, shadows made by not one, but two or three people. And
the curtains the curtains were gone. All he could see were the venetian
blinds hanging crazily as if some drunk had tried to lower them in a
stupor. The young husband's heart began to beat faster and faster, for he
heard muffled moans and cries coming from the upstairs room.
 
What the hell's going on? he thought anxiously.
 
He pulled out his front-door key, deciding against ringing the bell.
If there was something wrong it would be better not to take any unnecessary
risks. His mind was seething with possibilities: Maybe a prowler was in the
house, or some teenagers had broken in  hell, anything was possible these
days and he knew it. He put the key into the lock with a trembling hand and
slowly opened the door. Peering cautiously inside, a shock went through him
at the sight that met his eyes. The hallway was strewn with broken china
and torn pillows. His jaw muscles tightened and his heartbeat increased as
he moved quietly inside, where he saw the wreckage in the living room, and
heard again, only this time more distinctly, the strange moans from the
second-floor bedroom.
 
Oh, Jesus, maybe Susan 's been hurt! Oh God!
 
Somehow he managed to calm the rising feelings of panic, at least
enough to continue his investigation with some degree of control, though he
now feared the worst and cursed the airplane strike for delaying his
arrival. He suspected that whoever had broken into the house hadn't left.
In fact the sounds from the floor above indicated that their mad rampage
was still in progress, and the chances were good that they were somehow
tormenting his beautiful young bride. A murderous fury seethed dangerously
at the fringes of his consciousness, and it was only with a great effort
that he kept himself from crying out like a crazed beast and lunging up the
stairs to kill the bastards.
 
He started slowly up the stairs, being careful not to make a sound as
he ascended toward the bedroom. The sounds increased as he drew closer to
the bedroom door, which stood slightly ajar, only they no longer seemed to
be sounds of pain. Rather they gave the distinct impression of being sexual
in nature, like a female dog howling in heat. He reached the second floor
landing and sidled cautiously along the hallway wall, until finally he was
able to peer into the brightly lit bedroom without being seen.
 
The scene he witnessed made his jaw drop open in astonishment, and it
was all he could do to stifle a cry of violent outrage. There were three
strangers in the room with his wife, all completely naked and in the midst
of the most perverse orgiastic copulation that the young husband had ever
witnessed. His young bride was crushed face down on the bed, and being
skewered roughly in the anus by a slender muscular young man with brown
curly hair; an incredibly voluptuous blonde girl was lying on her back so
that her cunt was pressed against Susan's mouth; and another man, older,
powerfully-built and dark, had shoved his huge cock between the blonde's
lips and was thrusting it furiously in and out.
 
Oh my God, my God!! Tim screamed inwardly as he witnessed the
feverish debauch, pressed tightly against the wall to conceal his presence.
Susan, what's happening to you!
 
The young husband was certain that somehow these men had broken into
the house and made a virtual prisoner of his ravaged wife and the thought
made him tremble with rage, but he knew he had to keep his presence a
secret. He had to call the police  this was too big for him to handle on
his own yet he was rooted to the spot as he watched the lewd fucking on his
own bed. There was something about Susan that riveted his eyes to the sight
of her impaled young form wriggling on the bed while her mouth sucked
hungrily at the blonde girl's wide-open pussy. She she seemed to be
enjoying it! The young insurance salesman struggled to interpret what he
saw differently, but the quality of moans and mewls from his brown-haired
wife's throat was not agony or resistance, but pure unadulterated pleasure!
He had never seen her like this! She had always been so prim and cold when
it came to sexuality, but now she was writhing like a nymphomaniac beneath
the bludgeoning anal thrusts of the eagerly fucking youth, and sucking at
the other girl's proffered cuntal slit like there was no tomorrow.
 
He couldn't believe what he saw  it was like an obscene
hallucination, a nightmare stag film with his wife as the star! He stared
open-mouthed at the lewdly thrashing quartet, scarcely able to comprehend
the staggering sight he beheld.
 
And he became excited. His long thick cock began to pulse, faintly at
first, but then stronger and stronger until finally it jerked completely
erect and pounded against his thigh in torrid response to the bizarre scene
he was witnessing. For a brief moment he feared for his sanity, for the
overwhelming discovery was almost too incredible to digest fully. How could
this have happened? Why? Who were these men, and what led them here? How
long had they had Susan in their power? And even more disturbing  why was 
he so sexually excited by what he saw?
 
But he knew the answer to the last question. His young bride was
responding in a way that he had hoped for all during their early days
together like a free, erotic, sensual animal, surrendering herself freely
to the ecstasy of sexual liberation. Gone were the panic and fear, gone was
the sense of always holding back  now she was a tempestuously wanton
female gone wild, berserk and groaning with the rapture of eros. The young
husband had always known that someday she could be this way, and he had
prayed for that day to come. Now it was a reality. He felt a momentary pang
of jealousy, for he had always wanted her to discover that aspect with him.
Yet this feeling quickly passed as he reminded himself that she had been
forced into what he beheld  there was no other answer for it. Finally, he
pulled himself away from the door and went quietly downstairs to call the
police, then slipped out the front door to conceal himself until their
arrival.
 
Unaware of his presence, the orgiasts continued their frantic
copulation, moans and cries of excitement filling the air, mounting
frenziedly as the moment of orgasm approached. The anally battered young
wife was now lost in a torrent of delight that overwhelmed every tingling
nerve-ending in her body, setting her on fire with a deluge of unbridled
lust. It consumed her with hurricane force so that she began screwing her
rectal channel back more feverishly into Art's bludgeoning strokes, taking
him farther and farther into her now greedily clenching rectum with each
forward thrust of his huge swollen cock. Excited beyond all reason, she
drove her tongue deep into Tanya's hotly moist vaginal interior, whirling
and rotating it with complete abandon.
 
Meanwhile Sal pumped his bloated penis in and out of her hungrily
sucking blonde's mouth, clutching her thick platinum tresses and grunting
with raw animal passion. The fury of the four-way orgy mounted, and each
could feel the approach of yet another climax, even more intense than all
that had come before. Tanya ground her moisture-drenched cunt up into
Susan's eagerly licking tongue while her hands roved freely over the
muscular naked body of the swarthy man who drove his lust-swollen penis
deep into her battered throat. Art, at the same time, lunged forward with
brutal roughness, ripping up into the young wife's hotly pulsing rectum
with maniacal fervor.
 
It was the recently innocent housewife who reached climax first. As
she groaned incoherently into the seething wet furrow of the blonde girl's
vaginal flesh, the beginnings of her orgasm came shooting out from
everywhere at once. The others were only seconds behind, the two men
groaning deep primeval moans of savage pleasure. Art rammed mightily into
Susan's receptive anus, jetting his thick white seed far inside, squirting
a thick river of cum like a garden hose gone out of control. At the same
time, Sal ejaculated wildly into Tanya's gulping mouth, spraying her oral
chasm with his hot male essence as her cheeks hollowed and expanded to
drain him dry.
 
Slowly their passion subsided, and one by one they slipped drunkenly,
deliriously, out of their positions to collapse exhausted in a disordered
heap on the bed. For a long time there was not a sound to be heard as the
wearied debauchees sank into a heavy stupor provoked by their corrupt
excesses. They did not stir, until, moments later, they heard the
ear-splitting wail of a siren careening down the street and the sounds of
cars pulling up in front of the house.
 
Art bolted up, his eyes wide with alarm, and glanced anxiously at the
others. Then, jumping from the bed, he ran quickly to the window while the
others held their breath in terror.
 
"It's the cops," he said, turning back to them. "It's the goddamn
fucking cops."
 
Susan gasped with joy as she realized that somehow, some way, she was
finally being rescued from her hideous nightmare.
 
"Oh God" she moaned in utter relief, "thank you thank you" In the
next moment she was enveloped by a swirling blackness as unconsciousness
took hold of her brutalized mind and she fell back on the bed in a faint.



 
CHAPTER EIGHT

 
At four A.M., Tim Jameson sat quietly on the edge of the bed smoking
a cigarette and gazing down at the still-unconscious figure of his naked
young bride. The police had long since taken Art, Sal and Tanya away with
them, leaving him alone with his wife in the chaotic wreckage of their
home. Now he waited patiently for Susan to wake up. Finally her eyes
fluttered open, and she woke with a start, sitting up on the bed in terror,
knowing nothing of what had happened since she had blacked out. Then she
saw Tim.
 
"Tim! Oh, Tim!" she cried and flung herself into his arms weeping and
sobbing like a baby, grateful to be with her beloved husband once more. "Oh
Tim, I thought I'd never see you again."
 
"It's okay, honey," he murmured quietly, cradling her softly in his
arms. "It's all over now. They're gone, and from what the police tell me
they should be out of circulation for quite a while."
 
"It was horrible, horrible," she moaned through her tears. "They did
such horrible things to me, Tim I can't tell you"
 
"I know, darling, I know. Just calm down. Everything's all right
now."
 
Soon the young wife's tears had subsided and she gazed up at her
handsome sandy-haired husband with relief and adoration.
 
"When when did you come back?" she asked.
 
"The strike was settled this afternoon. I was going to call but I
couldn't get to a phone. I got to the house around ten"
 
"Then then you saw"
 
"I saw everything I came in while you were all up here. Everybody
was so drunk and preoccupied that nobody noticed me or heard me when I
called the police."
 
The young wife moved away from her husband and hung her head in
shame.
 
"Can you forgive me, Tim? Can you ever forgive me for doing what I
did?"
 
"Forgive you? There's nothing to forgive, honey. Those bastards held
you prisoner! They forced you into it. The police got the whole story out
of that blonde girl. They all had police records, don't you know that?"
 
"What what did the police tell you?"
 
"Well, first of all the young guy, what's his name Art?"
 
"Yes Art"
 
"He's an escaped convict. Broke out of a prison in Georgia two months
ago and was heading for Canada with his girl friend. The girl what's her
name"
 
"Tanya"
 
"That's it. She said they'd run out of money and Art was picking up
odd jobs in places where he was sure he wouldn't get spotted. But
apparently the guy's sick in the head too, and when he found out you were
alone, he decided to take the place over and have some fun for a few days.
He's got a long history of theft, rape and murder."
 
Susan gasped when she heard this, and realized just how much her life
had been in danger.
 
"Oh my God," she moaned.
 
"The other guy, Sal, was apparently well known to the police. He's
part of a big crime syndicate in the East, and they knew he was in
Chicago."
 
"What about the girl"
 
"Pathetic. She's been an accomplice of Art's for a long time. She'll
be in the cooler for quite a while, too."
 
Unexpectedly the young wife felt a pang of sadness when she heard
that Tanya was to be locked up. Despite the outrages they had subjected her
to, and the viciousness with which they had systematically ravaged her
sexually, there was something about the bizarre encounter that had taught
Susan something about life.
 
Without this terror-ridden weekend, she might have remained forever a
prisoner of her fear and anger. How strange it all was, how unreal and
nightmarish.
 
"The house is such a mess," she said after a long silence. "It'll
take so long to repair the damage."
 
"The insurance will take care of the expense. And we can redecorate
together it'll be like a new start. Maybe all this had to happen, Susan,
to bring us to our senses. God knows there was a lot wrong with our
marriage, with our whole life together. Maybe all this has been a sign that
we have to start over."
 
"I think you're right, Tim. But after all that's happened do you
think we can? Is it possible?"
 
"I think so, darling. After all, what's the old saying  love
conquers all?"
 
The young wife smiled, and Tim took her gently in his arms and kissed
her warmly on the lips. How good it was to hold her in his arms again, to
comfort her and reassure her. Susan returned his kiss with grateful
affection, relieved to be held once more by her handsome young husband,
feeling safe again at last after her frightening ordeal. Had it been only
two days? Even less, really.
 
"Are you hungry?" Tim asked when they finally broke their warm
embrace.
 
"No not really. I think I'd like to take a warm bath, though."
 
"I'll start it for you," her husband said, getting up from the bed
and going to the adjoining bathroom. "And Susan"
 
"Yes?"
 
"I love you."
 
The young wife smiled at her husband and felt a tiny tear begin to
trickle slowly down her cheek.


 
Susan sighed as she sank back into the hot tub, surrounded by
glistening bubbles from her bath oil. Her luxuriating young body, aching
and weary from the constant sexual assaults during the past forty-eight
hours, eagerly welcomed the calming pleasure of a long, relaxing soak. The
humiliation and degradation the young wife had endured so recently seemed
to fade away like magic as she languidly soaped her curvaceous body letting
each stroke wash away the memories of torment and shame. Sighing happily,
she finally finished her bath and stepped out of the tub.
 
Standing before the large bathroom mirror, drying herself with a
thick towel, she remembered that her traumatic encounter had begun on
Friday evening, just after she had left the bathroom. Suddenly, in rapid
montage, all the weekend's events seemed to replay themselves in her mind.
She remembered Art's arrival at her front door, looking so handsome and
sincere, then revealing himself to her that night as the brutal sadist he
really was. And Tanya. How strange it had been to make love to a woman, how
oddly exciting despite the fact that she had been forced into it. Finally,
there was the depraved orgy  an orgy that had lasted for hours; first her
doubled impalement by Sal and Art, and then the last mad debauch in the
bedroom until Tim finally returned and brought the police. She remembered
how Art had forced her to release her anger, anger she hadn't realized was
the source of her fear, by making her stab viciously at her own furniture.
It was hard to believe that it had all happened so recently, yet it was
true. And they were safely in jail now. Yet, she couldn't help still
feeling a certain amount of sympathy and even something akin to warmth
toward them all.
 
Replacing the towel on its rack, the ravaged young blonde stepped out
into the bedroom. Tim, who was in bed smoking a cigarette, glanced up as
she came into the room and looked startled. For a moment Susan didn't
understand his reaction, but then realized why he had such an odd smile on
his face. She was completely naked. Normally she put on a robe or negligee
when she had finished bathing, but she hadn't even thought about it this
time. She realized with a start that she no longer was ashamed of her
nakedness. After the past two days, how was that possible? She had been
completely naked with total strangers. In the back of her mind she realized
that perhaps she had learned a lot more than she thought.
 
"You look incredible," Tim remarked as his widened eyes traveled up
and down the full length of her milk-white young body, lingering on the
pointed upthrust mounds of her softly pulsing breasts and slowly taking in
her full curving hips and tapered legs. He couldn't help but notice a
change in her, not just the fact that she was standing completely nude
before him with no apparent shame, but there was an atmosphere about her 
a sense of womanliness and allure that had been the one missing element
before. There was no doubt about it, she was a different woman now, vastly
different from the frightened creature he had left on Monday. "Susan, I've
never seen you so beautiful."
 
"Thank you," she said softly, her voice taking on a pleasant,
somewhat husky quality he had never noticed before. "You look awfully good
to me too."
 
Tim laughed softly and threw back the covers, revealing that he, too,
was completely naked. Susan glanced down in unabashed admiration at his
slender muscular form. The young couple exchanged warm smiles, and their
eyes locked together fully and directly, establishing a steady current of
unspoken affection and love. Immediately Tim's thick cock began to lurch
into erection until finally it stood up proudly from the furry tangle of
his pubic hair, swelling with eager desire.
 
His young wife gazed openly at his hotly pulsing genitals, and a
teasing smile crossed her lips.
 
"I thought you'd be tired from your trip, but I guess not," she
remarked slyly.
 
"To tell you the truth, I was, but not any more." He rose slowly from
the bed, never once taking his eyes from the stunning vision of his wife
standing like a shimmering Venus before him, no longer frightened and
trembling, but sure and confident. "I thought you'd be tired too after all
you've been through."
 
"I should be but I'm not tired at all. What was it you said earlier?
Love conquers all?"
 
"Did I say that? Well, well, well"
 
As if drawn by the magnetism of their steadily mounting excitement
Tim and Susan moved toward each other, breathing faster and faster as lusty
passion began to ripple through their naked young bodies. Finally they
stood face to face and suddenly reached out their hands and clasped each 
other in a feverish embrace, their lips meeting hungrily as they showered
each other with hot kisses. Tim slid his hands down to the softly curving
roundness of his ardent wife's white hips, then upwards over the trembling
plane of her stomach, until they came to rest on the resiliently pulsing
flesh of her taut breasts. He massaged them hungrily, reveling in the silky
smooth texture of those pliant mounds, no longer cold with resistance but
quiveringly hot and alive. He squeezed the little buds of her nipples with
his thumbs and forefingers until they stood out proudly erect.
 
In response, Susan's hands dropped down to grip the rigid girth of
her young husband's thick swollen cock, and deftly pulled away the soft
covering of velvety foreskin, exposing the purplish blood-filled head that
pulsed in lustful anticipation. Then, in a sudden, unexpected move, she
dropped to her knees before him and took the throbbing head into her mouth,
avidly closing her wet glistening lips around it.
 
"Unnnngggghhhhh!" Tim moaned with pleasure as she took his cock all
the way into the moist interior of her mouth. Gently, tantalizingly, she
moved her head up and down, swirling her tongue around his desire-bloated
little glans while her teasing fingers closed around his huge swaying balls
and kneaded them softly. Closing her eyes, the sensually-awakened young
wife savored the delicious sensation of having her husband's hot rigid
penis in her mouth as it slid up into the farthest recesses of her
expanding throat.
 
Tim gripped the curly tresses of her light-brown hair in ecstasy,
scarcely believing that his formerly frigid young wife was rapidly becoming
everything he had ever hoped she would be. His mind became filled with lewd
erotic thoughts as he fantasized all the delightful love-play that was
possible between them now. Susan began to increase the tempo of her eager
sucking, fondling his balls enticingly as she brought her delighted husband
quickly to the point of seething arousal. He began to plunge his excited
penis in and out of her yielding throat. while she gripped his tautly
flexing buttocks with her roving hands and kneaded them rhythmically as he
thrust his pelvis back and forth in growing frenzy.
 
"Oh Christ, baby," he moaned suddenly, "let me fuck you it's been so
long"
 
With childlike happiness, Susan eased her lips off his hotly swollen
penis and stood up. They were at the very edge of their wide double bed,
and suddenly, with a deep guttural growl, Tim seized her satiny shoulders
with his hands and the two of them fell backwards, consumed by a swelling
tide of aching sensuality. He quickly arched his body over her, positioning
himself so that his knees were between her legs. Then, supporting himself
with one hand, he gripped his lustily throbbing cock in the other and
placed it at the quivering entrance of his reclining young wife's extended
vaginal slit. With a victorious cry he lunged forward, thrusting his
rock-hard cock-shaft deep up into her moistly contracting cunt.
 
"Aaaaahhhhhhhh!" Susan mewled in delight as she felt her husband's
rigidly hardened penis slide all the way into her welcoming cunt. Quickly 
she twined her tapering legs high around his back, giving full and total
access to her love-craving vaginal interior, and reached her eager hands
around to knead once more the hard half-moons of his buttocks, pulling and
stretching them apart lewdly as he began to thrust his hips up and down and
around in a torrid screwing motion.
 
The lust-drenched young bride was overwhelmed as her naked husband's
thickly swollen spear traveled in and out the length of her wetly
palpitating cuntal sheath. This was a thousand times better than anything
she had experienced with Art, Sal or Tanya! A magical radiance seemed to
envelope her from head to foot, and she reeled delightedly in the knowledge
that at last she and Tim could experience sensuality in a fully open way.
Flashes of pleasure rippled through her naked throbbing body as Tim drove
his massive cock all the way in up to her belly, pulled out again and then
lunged forward, until he buffeted against the thrillingly hot hard wall of
her cervix. She cried out shamelessly, reveling in the sheer honest
pleasure of their love-making.
 
Looking up, she could see his head thrown back like a proud lion, his
handsome face contorted with excitement, and the sight of his mounting lust
aroused her even more. Accommodating her warmly quivering body to his, she
began moving against his writhing frame like a wild creature, twisting her
pelvis in sheer abandon, and grinding hard against the stocky base of his
shuddering cock.
 
It was incredibly intense, even more intense than what she had
experienced before, but the newly awakened young bride reveled in it,
mewling with delight, her curvaceous young body tinglingly alive from head
to foot, surging with hot flashes of ecstasy. She knew in that delirious
moment that her fear and anger were a thing of the past. Miss Whitfield's
bitter lectures no longer held sway over her mind  the young wife no
longer resented fate for her frigidity, and, best of all, she no longer
feared her husband. She was his, completely and totally!
 
"Yeeesssssss!" she groaned, demonically, "Yeeeessssss!!!"
 
Hungrily, she reached up with her hands and grasped his head, pulling
his mouth down onto hers. Her wet snake-like tongue darted over his groping
lips and against the hard white wall of his teeth, which parted eagerly as
his own thick tongue shot forward to meet hers. Greedily their hot oral
spears mingled in raging passion, as though they could never get enough of
each other. Susan's thunderingly aroused husband pulled her moist
palpitating tongue into his mouth, sucking it until she felt it would be
ripped heedlessly from its moorings, but it felt wonderful, wonderful.
 
Slipping his arms beneath her hotly responding body, Tim gripped his
wife's supple flesh, and their two copulating bodies began rolling
deliriously all over the bed. So tight was their embrace that their
thrashing bodies seemed cemented together as they heaved shamelessly on the
straining creaking bed.
 
"Oh Honey!" the delighted young husband cried, "You feel sooo
gooddddd!!! Sooo ggggoooddddd!!!"
 
He forced her thighs up and apart as far as they would go so that he
could sink his wildly plunging cock as far as humanly possible into her
quaking pussy. Susan, reveling in her lewdly splayed position, used all her
strength to lift her creamy-white buttocks even higher. It thrilled her to
the very core of her being to be taken like this by her own husband!
 
"Oh harder darling, harder!" she found herself suddenly crying out.
 
Seething with triumph, Tim hammered into her wetly gasping pussy like
a primitive barbarian. He knew for once and for all that Susan had changed,
changed miraculously into a creature of sheer lusty excitement! At last his
wife was awakened to the pleasures of the flesh, and he knew their marriage
was saved. Not only saved, but well on the way to being completely
satisfying. He couldn't believe his luck, and realized inwardly the irony
of the situation. She had been systematically raped by two hoodlums and
their girl, yet she had come out of it totally transformed. It was
incredible, but it was true, excitingly true!
 
Their fevered bodies rocked excitedly to and fro, each craving
complete union with the other. Deep inside the delighted husband's heavy
testicles, he could feel his boiling seed gather achingly, painfully,
within his churning loins like a volcano about to erupt. Susan, also,
sensed uncontrollable spasms of radiant pleasure sizzle through her hot
cuntal depths, spasms that made her thrashing legs tremble and her entire
young body quake in gasping ecstasy.
 
Suddenly their bodies soared out of their conscious control as the
first jet of white-hot cum shot out of Tim's madly jerking cock and
traveled deep into his enraptured wife's raging belly, while the two of
them shook in the throes of torrid mutual orgasm. It was all Susan could do
to cling tightly to her ejaculating young husband. Her hotly perspiring
body was lost in a seething windstorm of delight, vastly more intense than
what she had experienced with the others. It was beautiful, incredible,
wildly exciting. Electric waves of erotic energy shot through their rocking
bodies as if they had been struck by lightning.
 
Their young voices mingled in shrieks of wanton pleasure as their
tumultuous orgasm went on and on. Finally, their bodies trembling with the
intensity of their blissful shameless fucking, Tim emptied the last
bubbling gush of his boiling semen into her wetly frothing vaginal canal
and then it was over.
 
They lay on their bed, entwined lovingly in each other's arms, their
bodies bathed in a sumptuous afterglow from their galvanic copulation. The
first rays of morning sunlight began to filter through the window and fell
across their softly heaving bodies. Susan looked up just in time to see the
pinkish-gold disc of the sun rising above the row of suburban houses.
 
"Look, darling," she whispered to her young husband, "it's the start
of a new day a brand new day.
