When the thin, wiry man was through with her, he fell asleep, and she looked at the window at the other end of the room. It was a means of escape if she cared to try it. But that would leave her husband and baby here, and now she had the girls to worry about, too. No, this wasn't the time to try to escape. If the time was going to come, it would be later, when she had a good chance of making it, of getting help. Just to run off kind leave the others here would be desertion. Besides, she wasn't sure the man next to her was really asleep. He could be testing her. If he was as smart as he looked, as crafty, then she didn't think he was likely to be taken unawares by a dash for a window, and an open field beyond.
So she lay still, looking at the ceiling, thinking that until last night she had only known the love-making of one man, and that had been her lawful husband. Now she had been ogled by three men, and had slept with two of them.
"Slept with." That was a fraudulent term, she thought, a euphemism. And this wasn't the time for polite euphemisms. This was the time, for being honest with herself. She had been screwed by two men while her husband sat on the living room floor, tied and slowly starving to death. She had – had blown one of the men. And the other would, no doubt, get around to ordering that particular service. She would provide it when that time came. There was no way out of it.
Her thoughts moved on to the girls. Poor little Connie. It would have been bad enough for any woman, being straddled by that animal. But for a girl like her, innocent and young, and without anything to go on, any prior experience to help her through, it must have been unbearable. She wondered whether the girl would ever recover. Julie had read about cases where the girls never got over the experience, never learned what sex really was, what it could and should be.
Then she thought about Sally. She supposed Sally was – had been – a virgin, too. The girls were giving it away early nowadays, she had heard, but that was something she doubted in Sally's case, and anyway, sixteen was really early.
So she had gone into that bedroom with Max as a virgin, in all likelihood, and she would come out minus her maidenhead and girlish illusions.
Well, it wouldn't be as bad for her as it has been for her friend, Connie. At least Max looked and sounded human. He hadn't really been cruel to Julie, and there wasn't any reason to believe he would be cruel to Sally. In fact, if a choice had to be made, Sally had done better in the trading than she had. Pete was a virile man, but he was no Max. He didn't have any imagination. To him the sex act was just a matter of climbing on, banging away for a while, and climbing off.
The import of her own thoughts suddenly hit her, and she almost came upright in the bed with shock.
My God, she thought, what's happening to me?
Had she become so inured to rape that she could lie here in her bed and compare the men who had violated her as though she were paying them a stud fee?
There was a knock at the door, and the man next to her, Pete, answered instantly.
"Yeah?" The quickness of his answer told Julie what she wanted to know. His slumber had been simulated. He wasn't a man to be fooled easily. She made a mental note not to underestimate him when the time came to escape.
"You all through, lover boy?" Max's voice came through the door, muffled and thick. "I'm taking my little cunt into the kitchen to get something to eat. Why don't you and yours join us?"
"Yeah. I could use something to eat, at that." Pete swung his feet over the edge of the bed and stood. He looked down at Julie meaningfully, and she got up and put on her robe, holding it about her with one hand while she pulled the covers up with the other. "Fuck that," he said, pulling on his pants. "Get your ass in the kitchen."
Sally was already there, staring into the refrigerator at the food. Julie walked up beside her, thinking to comfort the girt, and laid a hand on her shoulder. Sally looked at her for a moment, and then reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a quart of milk. Julie was surprised at the clear, focused expression in Sally's eyes. She looked as though something had happened to her, but the shattered, lost expression Julie had expected wasn't there at all. Her sister seemed quite in control of her faculties.
They started to fix some pancakes, and Pete went into the living room to get Butch. The two of them came back a moment later, Pete carrying the two guns and Butch carrying Jim in his arms like a baby. Connie was with them, clutching the robe around her neck and waist. She had the kind of expression Julie had expected from Sally. She looked lost, as though the fabric of her mind had been torn to shreds. Butch had the same grin on his face, and she wondered if the bastard had been at her again.
They prodded Connie, and finally Max slapped her, and she came out of her shock enough to help set the table. She moved slowly, and her coordination was poor. Her eyes were vacant.
They all ate like field hands. Julie found, with a feeling of annoyance, that she was hungry. The smell of the food set her stomach to growling, and Max and Jim looked at her and laughed. Butch laughed, too, but he was probably only doing so because they were. His face looked like a huge swollen baby's, except for the beard that was sprouting there. He sat at the table and speared the first stack of pancakes for himself. Pete looked annoyed, but Max laughed.
"Hell, let him have them. He's bigger than we are. He needs more. Besides, there's plenty for everyone." Julie couldn't resist throwing a look toward Jim, trussed on the floor. He hadn't eaten anything since the party the night before. And that damned gag had been on him for – how long? She tried to count back, but her bran wouldn't function.
When the men had eaten their fill, they sat back and lit cigarettes. Jim's cigarettes, she thought, and hers.
"Okay," Max said. "Now the ladies can have a bite. Sit down, girls." It was a big table, with room for everyone.
"I don't want anything," Sally said. Max looked at her with a languid expression.
"I think you'd better eat something, sweety. You're going to need your strength for the night ahead." Sally flushed a deep crimson, but nothing more. Julie felt a sense of disappointment at the girl's lack of reaction to the situation, to what had happened to her. It must have happened. And a decent girl just didn't take things that casually.
"What about my husband?" Julie asked. "He hasn't had anything to eat since last night."
"Yeah, I know." Max seemed to consider the request for a moment. "What do you think, Pete? How was Julie in the sack? Did she do her duty? Was she a nice girl?"
"Yeah, she was all right."
"Well, then, maybe we can spare some food for Farmer Brown here. We'll make that our standing procedure. If wifey is nice in the sack, hubby gets a meal. If she gets high and mighty, he goes hungry. How does that sound to you?"
Pete laughed aloud, almost choking on cigarette smoke.
"Shit, Max, you can sure come up with the good stuff," he said, and laughed again. This time he did go into a fit of coughing. Max turned to Julie.
"How about you, baby? You're the one who wants us to feed the guy. What do you think of my idea?"
Julie felt her throat constrict painfully. She didn't think she could manage to answer Max. She knew Jim was staring at her back, and she didn't have the nerve to turn around and look at him.
"Well?" Max asked, obviously enjoying himself. "What do you think? It's up to you."
"All right," she said. The words came out in pieces, broken and jagged.
Max simulated a frown. "Now, what do you mean, all right?" He smashed his cigarette in his plate and shoved the dish aside. "Do you think it's a good idea or not?"
"Yes, sir." Her voice was even more uncontrolled this time.
"Yes, sir, what?"
"Yes, sir, I think it's a good idea."
"You going to do your best to see that hubby eats regularly?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you'd better. Because I'm going to keep posted with Pete here. And maybe he and I will trade off from time to time if he's willing, just so I can see that you're doing your duty." He beamed at her for a moment, grinning with delight at her humiliation, then waved his hand toward Jim. "Go ahead. Two pancakes. Nothing more. I don't want him to get to feeling too good, and think he should try something. That would be too bad for him. And for your kid. Besides, food isn't inexhaustible in our present situation, and I don't want to run out because he's got the appetite of a growing boy. Pete and Butch and I come first. You and the girls come second, because you have a useful purpose."
"That's no shit," Pete said.
"If there's anything left over, Farmer Brown gets it. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Okay, go ahead."
Julie took a clean plate down and put two pancakes on it. She buttered them and took a fork and sat on the floor beside Jim. His expression was unreadable. Julie took the gag out of his mouth and held up a forkful of pancake. Jim kept his month shut and turned his head away. Julie was between Jim and the others, and they couldn't see the turning of his head. She felt tears well tip in her eyes at the rejection. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, "Please, darling. If we're going to get away from these people, we have to keep up our strength as much as we can."
He looked at her with an expression of surprise, and, she thought, just a bit more respect. He took the pancake this time. While he was chewing, Julie noticed his eyes sliding to the front of her robe, and she realized that it was slipping down. She had pulled it closed before sitting on the floor, and had tried to assume a position that would tend to hold it in place, but it was hard. One breast peeked out, pink-nippled, and she saw the look of pain in his eyes at the reminder of what she had been doing for these men. Hastily, she pulled the robe closed. She took the fork off the plate then, and gave him another bite of food. Julie heard a chair scrape, and Max came over in front of Jim and squatted down. He had his pistol in his hand. It was a huge thing, like Jim's Army gun, and it frightened her just to look at it.
"I don't think you two ought to be together like this without a chaperon," Max said, grinning. "You might get into mischief. And we wouldn't want that." He laid his hand on his knee, with the gun pointing in Jim's direction. "I sure do want to thank you, buddy, for being so generous. We were hungry, and you gave us your food. We were cold, and you gave us your house. We were horny, and you gave us your wife and these two very pretty girls as prick fodder."
"How long do you think you can get away with this?" Jim asked coldly. Julie had to admire the steadiness of his voice. He had always been a brave man. Much braver than she was. Now she had to be the one to make certain that bravery didn't get them all killed.
"Well, now, I suppose I'll just have to wait and see how long we can," Max answered. "We seem to be doing all right so far. I don't think the cops can come searching through every farmhouse in the county, or the state. We've crossed quite a few counties."
"I wasn't thinking of the cops. People are going to start to miss us, you know. You can't keep us here forever without someone getting suspicious."
"No, I guess we can't. But the thing is, we have this lovely little wife of yours, and she's just too fucking cooperative for words. And she's going to head people off, baby, because if she doesn't we're going to start whittling down the numbers in this house, starting with your baby and working up in age until we reach you. Now, your sexy blonde wife knows that. That's why she's so cooperative. You better learn to be just as nice, pal."
Jim had turned a little pale at the mention of the baby, but now his face hardened, "If you hurt that baby, I'll…"
"You'll sit there and watch, and either cuss at us or make noises in your gag. That's what you'll do, papa, so the time to protect your baby is now, not later. Even if you manage to get loose, which isn't very likely, we have guns. Do you have a gun? Do you have anything besides your two good, strong hands? Now, I just don't think all your indignation and noble intentions, and the face that you have right on your side, is going to do much against a two hundred and thirty grain slug from this, or a blast from that shotgun. That's a very nice shotgun, by the way. Pete is grateful to you for it. It's his favorite weapon, a twelve gauge. He can make one talk, he tells me. I've never seen him use one, but I suppose he'd be happy to give me an exhibition any time I give the word. Shall I do that now?"
Jim just looked at him without saying anything. Max took the plate out of Julie's hand. "You're a little too sassy, friend. I think you need a few more days fasting to calm you down."
"Oh, please," Julie said, "he can't hurt you, tied up like that. What kind of a man would he be if he didn't get mad at you now?"
"It's what kind of a man he is that worries me, Julie, baby," Max said. "I think he's a very brave man, and maybe a smart and tough one, and I can't see any reason to take chances on him."
"Neither can I," Pete said from the table. He had been sitting with the shotgun across his lap, and now he got up, the gun moving to cover Jim. "I can't see why we need him around at all. The women, sure. But not him. I say let's blow him in two, and that'll show everyone else we mean business."
He moved closer, and his thumb moved something on the shotgun with a click. Julie felt her breath quicken, and she got up, struggling with her robe. She tried to move between the gun and Jim, but Pete swept her to one side and leveled the gun at Jim. Jim looked up at him, and there was a tightening of his face and a quickening of his breathing, because it was obvious that Pete meant what he said. Max dropped the plate of pancakes and put his hand on the barrel of the shotgun. He pushed it toward the floor.
"Not now," he said.
"Why the fuck not?" Pete tried to pull the gun out of Max's hand. "He don't serve no purpose here. He's just something we have to watch, something that could fuck us up if we're not careful."
"He serves a purpose," Max said.
"Yeah? What?"
"You just saw. Blondie here was willing to fuck herself into a coma just to get him something to eat."
"She'll fuck anyway, just to keep from getting her own ass blown apart."
"Maybe she will. Maybe. But how do we know that? And even if she will, she'll have less reason to be cooperative with us when he's dead. We'll have one less hostage. Understand?"
"Bullshit. We got the guns, we got the muscle. Nobody's gonna try nothin' while we're in a position to blow their asses off."
"Maybe not, but how about the other stuff? Julie told me about her sister coming. She'll play ball with us all we want, but we have to have something to hold over her head. This is her husband, and she'll do whatever she has to keep him alive. Won't you, sweety?" he asked, turning his eyes to Julie.
"Yes," she said quickly. "Anything. Please, Pete. Please listen to Max. Please, I…"
"Shit," Pete said, and wrenched the barrel of the shotgun loose. He pointed it at Jim again. Julie saw his finger tighten on the trigger as though she were watching a close-up in a movie. Then Max reached forward and knocked the barrel up toward the ceiling. The gun went off with a deafening roar. It left Julie with her cars ringing. She screamed, and heard Sally and Connie scream too. Plaster fell out of the ceiling.
"Goddamn you, you son of a bitch," Pete yelled. He jumped back and swung the shotgun around, bringing it to bear on Max. It was a pump action shotgun, and he pulled the slide to the rear sharply, throwing out the empty shell. Max brought his pistol up level with Pete's belly. It was rock steady.
"Close that action and you're a dead cocksucker," he said. His voice was raised to penetrate the din of screaming and the ringing in everyone's ears. But it was calm, too. There was no mistaking the earnestness in his tone.
The two men stood looking at each other for long seconds. The shotgun could only be fired after the slide was shoved forward. That would take a fraction of a second, long enough for Max to pull the trigger on his pistol. It was a tableau, a frozen, dramatic picture as the two men regarded each other coldly.
"Put the shotgun down," Max said coolly.
"It looks to me like we got a Mexican stand-off here, old buddy," said Pete.
"Not quite. All I have to do is press the trigger. Old buddy. And you'll be deader than shit. You know that, and I know it, so don't try any bluffs. Just lower the shotgun, very carefully."
Pete looked at the pistol. It hadn't moved a centimeter since coming to bear on his belly. He lowered the shotgun, pointing it at the floor. "You got me, Max. But how long you think you gonna be able to keep me?"
Max smiled, and, surprisingly, it was a friendly smile. "I won't have to keep you, Pete. You just cool off, and you'll realize I'm right."
"Bullshit. And even if I did, I don't like people pointing guns at me. Especially when they're supposed to be on my side. That really pisses me off, because I like to know which way all the guns are pointing."
"You didn't give me any choice, Pete," Max said. "I would have preferred to talk sense to you, but you weren't willing. You were ready to blow the man apart with that shotgun."
"Yeah, and I still am. I still think that's the best way to do it."
"When we were planning this thing, you agreed that I was the brains. Why don't we leave it that way." Max lowered the pistol in his hand and stuck it into the waistband of his pants. It was a casual movement, but it must have taken some thought on his part, because it reversed his position as compared with Pete's. If anyone had the edge now, it was Pete, who still had his gun in his hands at least. Pete looked at the gun and then at Max, and then he grinned.
"You got guts, Max. I'll give you that."
"It isn't guts. It's just that I know you're too smart to go breaking up the gang when we need each other to keep everyone in line." Pete shook his head in a gesture of admiration.
"I still think we oughta blow his balls off, but I'll go along with you, Max. For now."
Julie felt her knees go rubbery. The tension had been like a crouching panther, and now she felt a sudden weakness all over her body. She felt gratitude to Max, too, and even a touch of gratitude to Pete for giving in. He still looked disgruntled, as though he were choking down the gall of having been bluffed out. Julie went to him and kissed him. He jerked away for an instant, then, when he was sure what she was doing, one hand moved under her robe to slide down over her ass. Their tongues met, and she could feel the stirring in his body.
Pete broke off the kiss and looked at her strangely for a moment, puzzled at her deliberate sexual approach. Then he grasped her hand and pulled her to the hallway. Julie felt her husband's eyes boring into her back for the moment it took them to get out of sight. She wondered with a sinking feeling if they would ever be able to regain a decent marital relationship again. Then she reminded herself that the first concern was that they be alive when it was over. Then they could worry about things like loving and respecting each other. Jim should be able to understand that, she told herself, if anyone could.
Pete dragged her into the bedroom, and without pause or hesitation, yanked her robe down off her shoulders. The sleeves were still on her arms, and they pinned them to her sides. She looked at the man for an instant, helpless and a little panicky before he crushed her against him and covered her mouth with his own. His tongue moved into her month this time, as hers had moved into his in the kitchen. He held her so tightly she could barely breathe, but she made no effort to fight him. This was what she had wanted, she told herself, what she had intended, when she had set out a moment ago to take his mind off the smarting defeat he had suffered. Let him take his frustration out on her instead of her husband, or her sister, or her baby.
She could feel his gun, the pistol thrust through his pants, digging into her bare belly. It was cold and hard, and full of edges that bit her skin. She knew her hands were near the gun, and that if she tried, and if she was strong enough, and fast enough, she might be able to get it out and use it on him before he could stop her. But she couldn't be certain. And he still had the shotgun. It was in his hand, behind her now, pressing into her back. She had seen what a shotgun could do to living tissue when Jim had taken her on a duck hunt. It made her shudder to think of that gun going off in her face. She would make no grab for the pistol.
Pete broke off again, and this time he pulled the robe all the way down her arms. It ripped a little from the frantic haste of his movements, then it was off, and he dropped it on the floor. He stood back and looked her up and down, his eyes deliberately insolent. Julie stood still, suffering his gaze, letting him own her with his insolence if that was what he wanted. She couldn't deny that at the moment, for practical purposes, she was his property. Until the time came to do something about it, she was his.
"You're really something," Pete said. "You know that?"
"Thank you." Her voice was breathless, broken and uncontrolled, and he grinned at the sound of it. Then he walked to the spare bed in the corner, the one they were planning on using for Diane when she was too big for the crib, and tossed the shotgun on it. He pulled the revolver from his waistband and tossed that next to the shotgun, then turned and smiled and began to take his clothes off.
Julie walked to the double bed and sat on the edge of it, looking away from Pete. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that he was stripping down to his shorts and undershirt, then to his bare skin. She swallowed hard. Her mouth was dry, and her throat constricted. Why, she wondered, wasn't it easier this time? She had thought that the thing they called rape would become easier after the first shock. But this was almost worse than the first time he had taken her, and much worse than the same thing had seemed with Max. She supposed it was because she had deliberately initiated things this time. She was wondering, now, whether it had been such a good idea, whether it had been necessary.
Well, she thought with a mental sigh, it probably didn't matter much. In the long run, she would be possessed by this man as often as he wished to take her, and she probably wouldn't be able to remember this time except as part of a hodgepodge of memories, a fuzzy blur of images of chest hair and sweaty body and hard, big cock.
Pete was completely naked now, and while he folded his pants in half he stood with his profile toward her, giving her a good look at his cock, already as hard as iron. He had a grin on his face, and he was humming a tune to himself. He looked like a man who had been separated from his wife for a while and was about to make love to her again. For a moment there seemed no malice in his demeanor. He just seemed happy, ecstatic over what he was about to do.
But then he looked at her, and she saw his eyes and shuddered. She had heard of men who liked sex only if they were forcing it on a partner who didn't want them. She didn't know whether Pete was that far out, but she had a feeling that for him sex was at least a little more interesting under those conditions. This was his heaven. He had found himself in a perfect situation, with an attractive woman at his disposal, a woman who would do anything to get rid of him, but who didn't dare to offer him resistance. A second shudder passed over Julie's body.
"Spread out, sweetheart," he ordered as he came toward her. With leaden tiredness, Julie lay back on the bed and scooted to the center. She spread her legs wide for him, and flushed as his eyes went straight to her pussy. She looked straight up at the ceiling, hoping he would get it over with in a hurry. That was the one blessing in this trade, she thought. He wasn't as much of a love play artist as Max. He was virile enough, that was certain. Just as virile as Max. But he didn't have much imagination. And he wasn't interested in exciting his partner.
He came down on the bed hard, bouncing a bit, and took her in his arms. Julie allowed herself to be held, and responded automatically by placing her own hands on Pete's shoulders. He was hard and knotty, like Jim, and if she closed her eyes, she thought, she might be able to pretend it was her husband atop her.
She felt the bed shift under her weight, felt the heat of his body as he hovered over her for a second. Then he lowered himself onto her, and she had to work a little harder to breathe. His weight drove down upon her, shoving her into the bed, and she wound her arms about his neck. His chest, bristly and hard, crushed her breasts, and his cock was stiff between her thighs.
Then he raised his hips, and she knew it was coming, the moment of entry. She shut her eyes tight and held herself stiff, waiting. She didn't have long to wait. Pete's hand guided his cock partly into her, and then he thrust home, all the way in. His cock was a big one, and it sent an almost painful sensation through her at the same time that it sent the automatic thrill of pleasure through her loins.
She tightened her arms about his neck as he embraced her and began to pump and thrust, going into his dance of pleasure, fucking her with obvious relish. His breathing was loud in her ears.
Julie felt herself moistening below, felt the pleasure flowing through her, and she ground her own hips into motion, answering his actions with her own, pumping and thrusting in reply to him. The pleasure was fairly strong, though not as intense as it had been with Max. There had been no foreplay, nothing to excite her, and she had to work at seeming enthusiastic. She didn't know how much pride a man like Pete might take in his ability to make a woman enjoy his lovemaking. It was possible that he might get an additional sadistic thrill out of forcing a girl to like what she wanted to hate. So it was best to act out passion even if she didn't feel it. There was no telling how angry he might get, or how he would take out his anger if she disappointed him or made him feel inadequate.
Julie wound her arms more tightly about his neck and raised her legs about his waist, crossing her ankles behind him to lock him into the recess of her crotch. She worked the muscles of her lower belly, pumping at him, milking him even as her hips continued to move. Her actions succeeded in wringing a grunt from him, and then he was moving faster, accelerating his hips, thrusting and receding, driving into her with greater speed and force, until she could feel his belly begin to churn and tremble, and she knew he was about to come. She wasn't anywhere near a climax of her own, but she knew she should pretend one, so she let out a howl, a simulation or delight that she hoped would be convincing. Then his voice answered hers, and he came, flooding her all at once, and she let out another cry as he topped off his fucking with a last burst of motion.
When it was over, she lay beside him for a long moment, breathing hard, and staring at the ceiling, Julie let the feeling of self-disgust wash over her. It was compounded by the frustration of nearing, but not reaching, a climax. She felt soiled by Pete, as she hadn't felt with Max. She wasn't able to decipher the feeling, but it was there, unmistakably there, and she wished that Max had kept her.
A flood of shame filled her at the thought. If Max had kept her, Sally would have gone to Pete. At least, she thought, it might be easier for Sally with Max. And then she remembered how Sally had looked in the kitchen. It had gone easy with her, all right. She hadn't looked as though she found the experience particularly harrowing.
What did you expect of her? Would you he happier if she'd been broken by it?
Yes, she thought, she probably would be happier if Sally had been broken by the experience, or at least if she had been bent a little by it.
Pete's even breathing told Julie that he had fallen asleep. He could have been faking it, she thought, but she was certain this time that he wasn't. He was asleep, all right.
She looked across the room at the single bed, with the pile of clothing on it. Under that clothing were the guns, the two guns he had put there, loaded and ready to be used. She wondered if she could reach them in a dash, Pete was really out, from the look of him. He hadn't slept this soundly last time. Probably the tensions of the escape had finally left him, and he was exhausted. Yes, she thought, she could probably reach the guns if she really tried it. She would have a very good chance of picking up the shot gun and spinning and firing. She would hardly be able to miss at this range. The shotgun would gut him like a cleaned fish, and then she would be able to pick up the baby and run for the window.
But of course that would leave the rest of them to the tender mercies of Max and Butch. It occurred to Julie for the first time that Max was keeping people apart. Even when the adults were all in the kitchen, the baby was kept in here. And when she had the baby with her, to feed it or something, he would keep the others somewhere else. No one would be able to escape without leaving someone else behind. So he had managed to hold them all prisoners, and at the same time, make them all hostages to each other. Julie felt a flood of admiration for his cleverness. He hadn't made a public statement about the policy. He simply kept them apart, at least one person apart from the others, all the time he'd had them. It was a smart policy. She had to hand it to him. She looked at the bed against the far wall one more time and lay back again. There would be no trying for the guns. Not now, anyway. Not until there was an error, not until Max made a mistake. And that, she thought admiringly, might be some time.