"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!