"The last thing in the world you should do is run," Helen Peterson said. Seated beside Bobby Barker on the couch in her apartment, all she wore was a robe. It was almost the same color red as her hair, it was opened enough to reveal much of her bounteous breasts, and it was so short that all of her legs could be seen.
Perry scarcely noticed her. He was pacing the room, gnawing on his knuckles. There was mud on his face and his black hair was wet and lank, and he was very worried. "I can't stay," he said. "She said she'd turn me in, and I believe her. God, that was the stupidest thing I ever did in my life. Loan me fifty. I swear I'll pay it back as soon as I find a place to hide."
"That's not the way, but I will lend you the money if you insist on panicking. But calm down now. Tell me now it happened. Would a drink help?"
"That's what started it. I talked her into going down to the Happy Hour. I got the waitress there to load her beers up with vodka. She got gassed and I loaded her into the car and took her to my place. I wasn't drunk, but… man, once I grabbed her, I couldn't stop! She was up and down. One minute she'd be fighting me off and the next she'd be swinging right along with me. It was wild."
"Yes, but was it good?" she asked with a smile. He smiled back, something he thought he'd never be able to do again, and he said, "Yeh. It was damned good. Front and back, she was tight as a mouse's ear. If I wasn't on parole, it would have been worth it."
"And where did you leave her?"
"On my bed. Tied up. I figured I'd call the cops when I was a hundred miles away from here and they could get her loose."
"I'll just bet you figured on doing that."
"What the hell, she'd get loose by herself in time, and I was worried about me, not her."
"And you say it turned her on at times?"
He grinned again. "It sure did. She really got to moving that pretty little ass of hers once or twice, and at the end, she was asking for more." He took a deep breath and let it out. "Then she half-way passed out. I screwed her out in the yard, see. Taking her back in, she came to and said she'd kill me. She said she'd turn me in and watch while they executed me. And she fought all the time I was tying her up. Hell, I've got to run."
"And you might get away, but I doubt it. May I make a suggestion?"
"Helen, don't go getting yourself involved," said Bobby, but he was ignored.
"Tell me," said Perry. "I'll try anything… short of killing her, of course."
"Of course," Helen said with a small, mirthless smile. "I suggest you go back there and turn her on all the way. Tell her you love her and that you want to marry her. Make her believe it with your love-making. Force her to turn on to you all the way, whatever it takes. You've got all weekend to do it."
"All week, really," be said, rubbing his jaw, thinking hard. "She's just starting on her vacation, and the other two guys in the office will be out of town. Trouble is, she might have a date with someone and be missed."
"That's a chance you'll have to take, Perry."
"I might be able to swing it."
"They'll catch you if you run, and turning her on to sex would be more pleasant than killing her."
"Yeh," he said. "Yeah, it would be at that. Shit, it's worth a try. I can't get in any deeper than I already am."
"Perhaps no deeper, but more often," Helen said, and Bobby guffawed. "Let us know of your progress, Perry, but please, don't involve us in any way."
In his haste he'd left the light on. The bare bulb glared above the bed, and Laura couldn't help but lift her head and look down at herself. That made her feel so ashamed. Spread-eagled on his foul bed, her blouse was wide open and her brassiere was only on her by one strap. Her skirt was twisted and torn, her panties gone, her stockings down around her knees. She was wet and cold and streaked with rain-washed mud. By arching her body upward she could see the smears of red between her legs, and that was comforting. It served as a reminder that she'd been forcefully taken, and that in turn helped to let her forget about those brief moments when his penis in her hand felt so very good.
But, no! It hadn't felt good, not even for one second! Sex only felt good with the one you loved, and she felt nothing but contempt for Perry Coleman. Driven by her anger, she started straining anew at the ropes that held her wrists and ankles, and as she did, she glared around at the unkempt little bedroom. There was dirty laundry on the floor and an array of junk on the dresser with its cracked mirror, and these were more mute evidence of the low sort of person he was. Every few minutes she'd stop in her struggles, take a deep breath, and scream. It only made her more dizzy. She felt that he'd drugged her, and hoped that could be proved and would make things go harder on him when he was brought to justice. She was making some headway on the rope around her left wrist when she heard his car come rattling into the yard.
Right away she knew he'd come back to do it again and then kill her, and she began to cry. She hated herself for doing it, but she couldn't stop. She thought about Chuck and how he would avenge her, and that helped. Then the door at the foot of the bed opened and there he was-and a great calm suddenly came over her. She didn't even try to close her legs, for she wanted him to see the blood and the shame he'd wrought.
He regarded her somberly for a few long seconds and left, and fury overwhelmed her and she screamed, "Let me loose! Come back here and let me loose!"
The bed creaked under her struggles until he came back, holding a towel in his hands. She knew he was going to strangle her with it as he approached the bed, but she had to ask. "What are you going to do with that?"
"Clean you up a little," he said, and sat down on the bed.
At first she tried to twist her head away when he began to wash her mud- and tear-streaked face, but then she submitted to it, sullen and grim-lipped. She became petrified when he drew a big clasp knife from his pocket, and she screamed and struggled when he approached her body with it.
"Hold still. I don't want to cut you. I just want these clothes off."
"No! Leave me alone! Get away from me!"
Phlegmatically, he sawed off the remnants of her once pristine garments, and she hated him almost as much for seeing her naked as she did for having raped her. She held still for a few moments when he started using the wet towel on her body, but had to twist and scream and thrash as he approached her loins with it. He held her down with his body across her belly as he wiped all around between her legs with the towel. She felt sick with shame.
He faced her again to ask her if she wanted some milk, and she took several seconds before answering. "I suppose it's drugged like the beer was."
"There was some vodka in the beer. The milk is okay. Do you want some?"
Her thirst overcame her pride, and she said yes. He held her head up so she could drink it, and even there his touch was revolting to her. But she did feel better with the milk in her stomach.
His hand was cold from the glass when he placed it gently on her abdomen, and she flinched from it. He looked her over, his dark eyes expressionless as he gazed at her naked and utterly defenseless body, and he said. "You know, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. I want to brush out your hair."
She could smell his sweat as he bent over her and took out the one barrette that remained. When he went to the dresser to get a hair brush, she said, "I'd rather you killed me. You make me sick just looking at you."
"I can't get enough of looking at you," he said, and smiling, he tilted the dresser mirror so that she could see her reflection in it.
She looked away, but the image still burned in her brain. Her breasts flattened by her arms overhead posture, her belly hollowed out, her body looking so white and soft, and that tuft of hair that marked what he and every other man lusted for.
Using the brush, he said, "That was a pretty dumb thing I did today, talking you into coming to the Happy Hour. I should have left you alone. I knew I could never make it with you. I had to try, I guess, sooner or later. Being in love with a woman like you makes me do stupid things."
"Love! What do you know about love!"
He grinned a little sadly and said, "Even ex-convicts fall in love. Maybe it's worse with us than with straight guys, because we have so much time to think about it in-the joint-in jail," he added, when he saw she didn't comprehend.
"Well, you'll have a lot more time to think about it when they get you for this. And they will."
He sighed and nodded. "I know. That's why I came back."
She didn't at all like the way he was looking at her. Even more distinctly now, she could feel where he'd stabbed her with his great, thick, ugly penis. Keep him talking, that was the thing to do.
"Look, if you'll just let me go, I – won't p-prosecute you. I won't say a word to anyone about it."
"Even if II believed that, Laura, I wouldn't do it. Hell, I couldn't-not now that I've had this much of you. I'm like a little kid in a candy store who knows he's going to get hell and a stomachache both, but he has to go on swiping candy once he's tasted it."
"What are you going to do?" she said, trying to be unobtrusive about working at her bonds, trying to keep her head.
"I'm going to show you how much I love you, babe," he replied, and ran his hand down over her warm, smooth body.
Hard and hot as his hand was, it was as if a toad was crawling on her. She withstood it, for she'd put up with worse, even though she'd been drunk at the time. She couldn't help but squirm away, but she didn't start crying again and she was able to protest coherently.
"Perry, don't make it any worse for yourself. Honestly…honest to God, I won't report you if you stop now and let me g-go."
"I told you I can't stop now. And it won't be bad. I promise you that."
He was touching her bare breast and no man had ever done that before, and it was awful, terrible. And his face was almost as dreadful as his hand as he stared at her, slack-jawed and obsessed by his unnatural sex drive.
"It'll be terrible. It'll ruin me for life, Perry-and you too."
"I don't care about me. Laura, I'm willing to go back to prison and spend the rest of my life there in exchange for a little more time with you. If you don't like it, that'll be just too bad. You'll get over it, though. I won't."
When he tried to kiss her, she spit in his face. He merely wiped it off and used his lips and his hands on her breasts. There was little she could do about that but deride him.
"That feels awful. It's making me sick. Just stop it and let me go. If you really ever did feel any love for me or for anyone, you wouldn't be doing this. Stop it!"
"Getting to you?" he asked, and resumed sliding his wetted lips over the corrugated flesh of her nipples and stroking the taut globes with his hands.
No, it wasn't pleasant at all. All his supposedly erotic ticklings produced in her was a creepy feeling. Scornfully, she said, "Your doing that shows how disgustingly childish you are. You need psychiatric help."
"I need you, doll," he said. He quit his dirty kissings to stand up beside the bed. "And I'm going to have all I can of you before they lock me up again."
He began to undress, and as he did so he realized there was at least one element of truth in what he'd told her. She was indeed the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in his life, and the fact that she was bound and helpless had nothing to do with that judgment. Without her glasses and with her hair combed out, without her clothes and all opened out as she was, Laura looked like the embodiment of every sexual fantasy he'd had in prison, all rolled up into one.
"I'll pay you if you stop now," she said, eyes wide with fear, and pulling hard at her ropes. "I'll even help you get away. Why pick on me? There are so many other women."
"Because I love you," he said, and went around to the foot of the bed and climbed up between her widespread legs.
She closed her eyes and lay still. She'd have to go along with it, for there was no reasoning with him. It might not be as bad as the first time, for the sadistic sex fiend had already torn her hymen, but on the other hand it might be worse, for now her vulva felt dry while in her previous state of drunkenness it had been wet and lubricated. But no matter how much it hurt, she wouldn't move; she wouldn't feed his sadist's urge to see her suffer. But at his first contact with her vulva, her eyes flew open and her head cranked up so she could see the top of his head and his broad brown shoulders between her legs.
"What are you doing!"
"Eating the most beautiful cunt in the world," he replied, and resumed using his tongue there.
"Pervert," she said, and fell back.
It might be difficult to remain impassive to this. Laura knew that the practice of cunnilingus, degenerate though it was, represented the most luxurious form of love-making. She took a look in the mirror and saw there was nothing visually appealing about a man crouched subserviently between her legs, snuffling and lapping about in her soiled crotch. It did feel nice, but like most things about sex, what she'd heard and imagined were exaggerations. Actually, it didn't even feel as good as when she was masturbating. He didn't know the exact location of her most sensitive parts, and the pressure of his tongue wasn't hard enough.
She knew it wouldn't make her have an orgasm, and that was a great relief, for the thought of herself panting and squirming in ecstasy on that dirty bed was detestable to her. She was confident she'd be able to stand it unflinching, even when he sucked on her sensitive tissues with his lips and simultaneously tickled them with his tongue. She could stand anything for a little while, and even a sex maniac like him couldn't stand the smell and taste of her for very long.
To pass the time, to distract herself, she mentally dictated a letter of accusation against him. But when he got his hands under her and squeezed her buttocks and elbowed her legs farther apart so that he could probe with his tongue directly in her vagina, she could no longer concentrate on it.
"That's disgusting," she said. "Do you know that?"
He just shook his head and tongued her more deeply. It was incredible! He actually liked it! She couldn't really believe it, but if it was true, he might go on for much longer than she was ready to put up with. Perhaps if she peed in his face it would discourage him. But no, that was too bad to even think about doing. He'd give it up in a few more moments and rape her again. Until then, she'd just have to stand it. And, looking on the bright side, it was serving the purpose of getting her a little lubricated, the better to endure the torture that would follow.
Don't think about that, either. Relax and go with it, for she couldn't fight back. Her body was tired from her long, vain struggle with the ropes, and it felt luxuriously good to allow it to go limp. Her buttocks softened in his hands and the strain went out of her back, and even the flesh between her legs seemed to melt.
"That's it, baby," he said. "Relax and enjoy it."
"You're mistaken," she said, and forced a yawn. "I'm going to sleep."
"Pleasant dreams," he said, and drawing back her clitoral sheath with his thumbs, stabbed her most sensitive spot with his tongue.
Her gasp and the slight arching of her body came too quickly for her to stop them, for the suddenness of the pleasure had been as unexpected as its intensity. It still tingled through her. She could feel it up inside her bowels. And he, the unrelenting pervert, was doing his best to add to it.
Having found her weak spot, he concentrated on it with his encircling, sucking lips and used his tongue with great expertise to further add to her torment. Used in conjunction with the suction, the caresses of his tongue were now more than hard enough to equal the delights she delivered to herself with her fingers. It had been a mistake to relax before. Now, although she could strain against the ropes again and bite her lip to keep from moaning and panting, she couldn't tense up her vulva and reject the good feelings-better and better now-that were creeping inside her. If he kept it up much longer, she'd turn into one big receptacle of ecstasy, and that would never do. She had to fight him, but the battle was becoming so hard.
"I hope that… tastes good," she said.
"Like sweet cream," he replied, and she knew her sarcasm has been lost on him.
And she knew, too, that she was lost, for when he ran his tongue down through her melting slit, every place it touched was just as sensitive as her clitoris. It was inevitable that it happen and she'd been foolish to try to fight it, for as dirty as the practice of oral sex was, it was incredibly sweet to feel. She even knew why it was evil then. If every woman was attended to like this, she'd become a hopeless sex addict, with nothing else in the world on her mind.
She'd passed the point of normal orgasming and was moaning and thrashing uncontrollably on the bed. Her left hand had slipped free of its bonds and she was clutching at his hair with it. She was reacting to sex far more than when he'd been fucking her, and now her reaction was continual instead of in brief but intriguing spurts. Her cunt was fairly gushing its cream and now it was all soft and extremely warm, with its tissues and organs all swollen and inflamed. It was luscious to lick and delightful to bury his nose in, and the sight of her heaving body, seen through the mat of her dark pubic hair was an inspiring one. Perry's prick had been up for a very long time and he longed to get it inside that very ripe and ready cunt and feel his hard loins grinding against her soft wetness, but still he had to prolong this foreplay and think of his entire future rather than his immediate gratification.
But there was a good deal of immediate gratification in the way she tried to get him to go on when he lifted his head. She clawed at his hair and thrust upward with her hips, but he resisted easily and smiled as he gazed at her cunt, inviolate a few hours before, and now lasciviously red and open, and seething with its need for him.
"Had enough or do you want me to lick it a little more?"
"Oh, you bastard. You bastard!"
"Tsk tsk. Is that any way for a nice girl to talk?"
It was a pleasure to see her working so hard at pulling herself together, and then watch her dissolve into willing submission at the touch of his fingers in her cunt or the placement of another kiss there. He'd never eaten a chick for that long and he couldn't recall having seen one so hot, but perhaps her appearance of great sexual excitement was due in part to her perpetual cool appearance in the past, that and her great natural beauty. He felt very powerful now in being able to make her dance like a puppet at his touch.
"When little Miss Tightass gets goin', she really gets it on;" he said. "Look at yourself in the mirror."
For a moment it looked like someone else on the bed. That gross-featured woman, thrashing on the tangled bedclothes looked like a schizophrenic alter ego, burst forth with overwhelming power after too long in captivity. The wanton, lustful sight sobered her, but only for a moment, for then he was back at her and she was watching in stunned disbelief as he attacked her breasts with his mouth and they were almost as sensitive as her leaking, itching vulva, where his fingers now easily performed the sweet tasks of his tongue. His penis was against her leg, long and hot, but by encircling his neck with her arm and jamming her nipple harder against his teeth she could forget about that. The ugliness of him, the shabbiness of the room, the whole world dissolved in her giddy bliss as she lost herself in orgasmic ecstasy that would have no end.
"Ready for a little cock now, baby?"
"Don't talk. Get it over with."
"I don't want to fuck you till you're good and ready. You want it in your cunt or in your butt-hole?"
With her vagina so open and ready, it was unthinkable be do it anywhere else~ "In front," she panted. "Just do it."
When he got up, it took her a moment to realize she'd actually asked for it, and shame flooded through her. She banished it with her free hand, roving it over her kiss-engorged breasts and cunt, and even finding a large measure of ecstasy in caressing her palpitating belly. What was he doing, leaving her to endure endless unfulfilled need now that he'd succeeded in contaminating her with his perversion? While he rummaged through the drawers of his bureau, she tried desperately to soothe her needs with her left hand. But she needed more than that. She needed him, all of him, bastard though he was, in order to bring an end to this blissful torture.
He turned and shocked her with the sight of his penis, as large and fierce-looking as when it had torn her virginity from her. In his hand was a small, foil-wrapped package, and in the time he took to rip it open, Laura cooled considerably. She was almost in control of herself again when he bent and dipped his tongue in her slit. In her renewed flailings she struck his penis with her hand and then had to look directly at it, amazed at its strength and resiliency, both repelled and attracted by it.
He put the rubber on by degrees. When he had the protective sheath around the head of his cock, he sucked and nipped each of her nipples and made her gasp and twisted her shoulders for him. Having rolled it halfway down his shaft, he used the tip of his tongue on the tip of her protruding clitoris, depriving her of more. When he had it fully on, he parted her labia widely with his fingers and wallowed his tongue and lips through the richly anointed trench of her cunt before positioning himself between her legs with his musk-smeared mouth an inch from her parted, panting lips.
"Ready for that cock now, Laura?"
"Put it in." It fit so perfectly in the hollow of her groin, but it would fit even better inside her.
"Give us a little kiss first, and I'll give you what you want, baby."
The decision was taken from her by his kissing her, very forcefully, and the wetness and taste of his mouth, the smell of it could even be tolerated in the hugely satisfying moments when he was making the insertion. There was nothing at all painful about it now. He was working it in very slowly, completing her need, and she hugged him and kissed him and sucked on his tongue until he had it all the way inside her, right up to the hilt, with his wet and hairy hardness pressing against her clitoris, just like she wanted.
He drew his mouth from hers and said, "You know I love you."
"Yes. I know. But…" she kissed him again, unable to think, let alone talk.
"You may not ever love me, but you love cock."
"Don't talk. Please!" She moved under his weight, to get him going, to shut him up.
"Admit it. You love to fuck. You dig cock."
"I hate you!"
"Tsk tsk. What can I do to change that?"
"Move! Do it! Get it over with!" she exclaimed, vainly trying to move his weight with her impeded body, and exerting a great effort to squeeze hard on that long, thick object deep and tight in her body.
"Move what, and where?"
"Just move! Do it, damn you!"
"Move what? My cock? Where? You tell me, baby, and I'll do it."
The insertion hadn't been what she'd been seeking. It was the friction of him moving in her, in and out, over and over, endlessly, even though it meant, hopeless addiction to fucking. It didn't matter. She welcomed the addiction and she clawed at his back and rasped at his reeking face, "Your cock in my cunt. Move it. Fuck me."
She was off on the wildest trip of her life. With long, deep, seemingly effortless strokes, he was pumping her full of life and ecstatic good feelings that went beyond any she'd ever known before. She felt herself bursting with it in every part of her body and she couldn't stop it even when she knew it was becoming more than she could bear. Then his body tensed and he began groaning, pumping faster, and she knew there was still more to it all and that she had to have it. She wanted to ask him for more but she was breathing too fast and he knew exactly what she wanted anyway, and then it burst like a gigantic sunrise inside her as she knew he was sharing in her great joy, and when he went limp on her, she did too.
"You're a great fuck, baby," he said.
Indeed she had been, though she was out of it now. If he'd known what was lying dormant in her before, he'd have been after her long ago. He'd meant to fuck her longer, exercising great control, but when she'd clamped down on his moving cock with her already tight cunt, it had been too much.
Reluctantly, he withdrew, and he had to grin at the way she sighed and frowned in her semi-stupor. She mumbled a protest when he was untying her and cupped her hand over her well-fucked cunt. She said yes when he asked her if she wanted to use the toilet, and he supported her into his bathroom. She watched but he didn't think she really saw it when he was peeling off the cum-filled rubber, and this went into the toilet before she was allowed to sit down on it. As he washed his prick in the basin-it was a kick to see her sitting there on the can, all slumped over, her pretty face sex-sodden and flushed through her tangled hair, her lovely tits hanging down, her refined hands limp in her lap, pissing.
She came willingly enough beck to bed with him and there he tied her right wrist to his left, though she feebly protested. It was better than tying her up all the way, for this way she'd be in contact with him all night, and there was no means by which she could escape anyway. He settled down to catch some sleep. With the weekend he bad in mind ahead of him, he'd need it.