The next horrible moments were a blur. Roaring trough orgasm, her world crumbled as though she had been thrown into an ice bath.
Naked bodies jerked away from her like frightened quail spooked from cover. A voice was bellowing, a wounded animal screaming out its venom. Iron clamps snarled into her hair and lifted her by it. Yes, iron cables and chains snarled together lifted by a steel derrick, raising her into the air and shaking her like a puppet.
Then the toe of a shoe smashed into her backside and she was running, crashing into a wall, careening away, flopping onto the dining room table. The cables and chains hooked into her hair again and flung her off to the kitchen.
There shoe leather ripped at her asscheek and she piled up against the screen door. It gave way and she was outside, running naked in the rain.
She skidded on wet grass and spilled, sliding on her tits and belly through a puddle.
The cables and chains snared her arm, yanked her up and she ran again.
"You whore!" Jim shrieked. "You filthy slut of a fucking whore!"
The blur faded as she slammed down on their bed. Aware now, she saw Jim wrap adhesive tape tightly about her right wrist and then tape it to a bedpost. Then the other wrist, stretching her arms painfully.
"Filthy slut, I work my ass off so you can live like a lady and I find you in an orgy, one stud shoots into you and you scream for another, one fucking isn't enough, you nympho!"
She saw the belt in his hand.
Then he uncoiled and the leather belt struck her backside like a ribbon of flame, fire burning inches deep.
Screaming in pain, she thrust from him.
"Tie your fucking legs too!" he snarled.
He rushed off to the kitchen, returned with the clothesline she used in summer when she wanted to sun-dry bed linens. He whipped it about an ankle, knotted it fast.
Shortly she was spread eagled, wrists taped to the bedposts, ankles bound to the foot by clothesline.
And he began to beat her.
The belt snapped like a gunshot on her buttocks, and as she shrieked in pain it landed again, on her thighs now, then on the small of her back.
"Please!" she screamed. "Don't…" Again the stripe of fire crossed her asscheeks. Writhing in pain she shrieked, "But you fuck your secretary!"
"Liar!" he howled. "You nympho lying cocksucker of a cunt! I'll beat you until you piss!"
She fought, tried to flinch from the next blow, only succeeded in catching it on her hip instead of her buttocks.
And then she saw his pants.
His cock stood out, rigid, making a tent in the material.
"You sadist!" she howled. "You're getting an erection from beating me!"
"Shut your filthy cocksucking mouth!" he roared.
"Your prick is up hard! You want to beat me and then fuck me!"
"I'll stick it up your dirty ass!"
"Go ahead, that's your style. You could pretend it's a man's asshole, you buggerer, you creepy sadist!"
"You aren't worth it," he snarled.
He had stopped, stood panting, his face now a congested purplish red. "I should make you suck my prick."
"I'll suck it. I like sucking cocks!" she cried.
And she knew that somehow she had defeated him. Defiance, though she was helplessly spread eagled on the bed, that and the shock of his discovering her being fucked in the house next door, that and the truth, the fact that he had gotten a hard-on from beating her!
"I'm going to divorce you," he choked.
Despite the burning welts on her back, she laughed. "I have witnesses, people who know you fuck your secretary, June Haley. You had no idea I knew, did you?"
"That's a lie. I've never touched another woman."
"Witnesses, you sadist. Look at you, your cock stiff from beating me. You aren't a man unless you can beat a woman down to less than you are!"
"What witnesses?"
"You'll hear that in court." She had no witnesses, just whispers from the wives of other men in his company; he had kept her that far from his affairs. She did not even know the girl, had no idea what she looked like.
"I suppose all three of those studs next door fucked you?"
"All three, and I sucked their cocks and lapped their wives cunts. So how do you like that?"
He lost control, raised on his toes and now the belt struck like a club mashing her ass. And again, as he cried, "I'm going to strap you until you piss the bed!"
"You asshole!" she cried.
The belt sang like a whip, and cracked on her thighs so hard she rose off the bed, screaming.
And pissing.
She felt it squirting all over her inner thighs, spraying here and there. With a last convulsive effort she twisted over on her side trying to piss on him, but only succeeded in squirting it down to the foot of the bed.
"Filthy whore!" he snarled, and went stamping out of the room.
"Go jerk off your hard-on," she sobbed after him.
Perhaps an hour later, when she had wept until her eyes felt sandy dry, she heard the light snap off.
Darkness then, rain slashing at the windows, on her belly in the pee-wet bed, suffering the burning ribbons from her waist to her knees, she gnawed the pillow and vowed vengeance on him.
Oh, she understood his rage. Coming cold turkey into the house next door and finding his wife on the floor, a man shooting his load up her cunt – then she crying out for a hard cock to take his place – she who had been an entirely faithful wife – yes, he had been shocked. Even if he had fucked June Haley, he had done it discreetly. The surface calm of their lives had remained intact.
She could excuse her orgy of sexual gratification; for too long Jim had crushed her spirit, and when she found release in Horny Haven she had simply blown her top, becoming a leader of the rampage. Thus she felt little guilt.
But Jim's getting a hard-on from beating her – that she could not forgive, mid it bore out the twisted sexuality she had always suspected in him.
She slept, a nightmare in which even George and Tom took a hand at whipping her behind, and someone was reaming an iron cock up her asshole.
She awoke screaming into a soft hand cupped over her mouth.
The only light was the glow from the house next door seeping through the rain in her window. But she made out two raincoated figures.
Doris and Laura.
With a scissors they snipped the tape from her wrists, and untied the clothesline holding her ankles. They drew her to a sitting position and kneaded the numbness out of her wrists and feet.
Laura whispered, "He's asleep in the other bedroom. Has an empty bottle in his arms like a Teddy bear."
At last Betsy could walk. They wrapped her in a dressing gown and headed out, through the kitchen, where they had left an umbrella. Beneath it they crossed the lawns to Laura's kitchen where she said, in a normal voice now, "The men said we shouldn't interfere. The pricks! I guess us cunts just have to stick together."
In tears, Betsy hugged them both.
Laura was making drinks. She said, "I've locked the door. He can't come bursting in again." Taking a drink she added, "I must get back to that horny George."
She hurried off through the house, leaving the two girls sipping their drinks.
"Did he hurt you?" Doris asked.
Betsy rubbed her backside. It still stung but the worst pain was gone. She murmured, "Beating me gave him a hard-on!"
"The pig! Betsy – I have things to tell you – let's go to the den, the only empty place." She took off her raincoat and threw it over a chair, then removed Betsy's housecoat. Naked again, carrying their drinks, they headed into the dining room, trough to the den where they found Tom asleep on a couch, snoring to beat the band.
In the den Betsy found that sheets and pillows had been put on the couch, which had been folded out to a roomy enough bed that virtually filled the room. There on the bed Doris cuddled to her.
"No more red mask?" Betsy asked, smiling.
"I decided to be like you. Proud of being naked." She kissed Betsy's throat, then whispered, "I've seen your husband before. At Bingo's Boite, with a girl I know."
Startled, Betsy cried, "June Haley?"
"Yes! You knew, huh?"
"Just cattish talk among company wives. I overheard it one night, then demanded if it was true. At Bingo's, you say?"
"Yes. June is a Bingo type. Likes girls."
"What?"
"Funny, isn't it? You and June both – I wonder why – it should make sonic sense. Anyhow, I saw them together once or twice. But June is a regular."
"What is she like?"
"Darling. I'm crazy about her. A redhead but not like Vera, more brown. Terribly shy. Worse than me. All we've ever done is hold hands. And talk. She turns on with more forceful girls, that's what I've heard. Anyhow, she's told me she goes to bed with her boss to hold her job. Doesn't really like sex with men."
"Good grief?" Betsy settled down, two pillows under her back, Doris' head on her bosom. Sipping her drink she said, "I'd like to meet her."
Doris fingered a nipple, bent it to her mouth and licked it, then murmured, "Maybe I shouldn't have told you." She mouthed the stiffening peg. "I'd be jealous, she's too much like me…"
Betsy petted her smooth little head, whispered, "Honey, it was you and Laura who came to my house and cut the tapes off my wrists, and I won't forget it. I love you both."
"Laura more than me?"
"It's you I'm in bed with. Because I want to be." And indeed, she did. The feel of Doris' soft flesh made her forget the stings on her back and buttocks. She caressed the girl's back down to the dimples where her asscheeks began, then followed the curve of her hip, fingertips brushing about the form of her plump little cheeks, satiny to the touch, and down the deep cleft between.
Doris raised from her breast and nuzzled her throat, whispering, "You're what I can't be, big and strong. And bold. I want to be your femme, Betsy. That's what we say, femme-it means your girl."
Betsy smiled, amused by the idea. She stroked between Doris' buttocks to the nubbin of her anus. She wiggled it with her fingertip.
Doris' breath caught. She sucked at Betsy's throat, gasped, "Oh-hh! If you'd just squeeze my pussy at the same lime…"
She struggled upward to make it easier. Still pressuring her anus, Betsy slipped a hand down over her little twist of a pubic beard to the downy-haired lips and pressed them together.
"Oh-hh, Betsy!" She gave a shudder. "Oh, I want you to – fuck me!"
"Silly!" Smiling, pulling and pushing at the girl's slobbery cunt lips, she said, "My clit may be big but it's no cock, sweetheart."
"I'm not being silly. In Laura's junk chest I found this."
She squirmed over Betsy, reached to the floor and from under the couch drew a strange object, a curve two feet long with elastics dangling from it. She pressed it into Betsy's hands.
It was limber, rubbery, and as she felt the ends she realized it was a double dildo, cocks mounted root to root, the heads convincingly shaped, down to splits in the end and pronounced rims. It was rather heavy. She shook it and fluid seemed to move inside.
"Water in it," Doris said. Then she hugged Betsy and said, "Please, fuck me with it?"
Giggling, Betsy sorted out the elastic loops. Three of them, one for the waist, one for each thigh. She sat up and poked her feet through the waist elastic, then each through a leg one, and drew the harness up in place.
"Let me stick your end up your cunt," Doris said.
She pressed the head down Betsy's split, found her hole and inserted its God knows she was wet enough, and still open from fucking. It snuggled up her easily enough, a phallic shape that filled her quite as nicely as had Tom's big cock.
Then she gazed down at the horny-looking object protruding from her pussy lips. It did indeed look like a natural, erect cock.
"Now fuck me!" Doris cried.
"Wait. I want a look at it." Betsy climbed off the bed and stood. She could not restrain a laugh as she gazed down on the foot-long curve rising out of her pussy. The elastics were flesh-colored and hardly noticeable.
Knuckles on hips, she swaggered about the little den, mimicking a male.
"On your back, woman," she growled, making her voice baritone. "Spread your legs."
"Yes, sir," Doris giggled, obeying. "But you're not going to stick that big thing into me, are you?"
"I'm going to fuck the shit out of you, baby," Betsy replied, fisting her fearsome cock. "Put some spit in your cunt to make it slide easy. I don't want my foreskin rubbed raw."
"But sir, I'm a virgin!"
"I'll bust your fucking cherry," Betsy growled, lowering from baritone to a threatening bass.
Shivering in anticipation, and giggling, Doris spat on her fingertips, and rubbed the spittle into her cunt.
"But you'll have to marry me, sir," she said. "After you've deflowered me, taking my precious maidenhead."
Betsy circled the fake cock shank, turning the one inside her about. It felt quite good! And maybe she understood why men acted so all powerful and sure of themselves, having a weapon like this pointed out from their crotches.
"You'll be gentle, won't you, sir?" Doris pleaded.
"Gentle! You cunts like to be hurt a little."
She knelt on the edge of the couch, gazing at Doris' crotch, so deeply split, the lips bulging, and she almost wished herself a man, with a cock that when maneuvered in between Doris' lips would feel the steaminess of her inner body.
She climbed over the girl's leg, and crouched down, preparing to mount her.