It was close to dawn when Laura woke up and began working on the knot. He'd turned the lights out but she could feel her way toward her freedom, and he was snoring so loudly she felt confident she could get the rope off without waking him.
Mustn't be overconfident, though. She'd seen the futility of that. Take her time, use her head, and don't think back on all she'd gone through. Look on the future when she'd be safe from him and he'd be behind bars, this Svengali of a brute who'd taken such dreadful advantage of her, who'd done such awful things to her. The milk had been drugged, but with an aphrodisiac and not vodka. She'd heard about Spanish Fly but had never quite believed it. Now she did, for only some weird and wicked drug could have made her respond in such an outrageous fashion to that nasty, sweat-smelling body beside her. The aftermath of her induced passion made her more sure it was from a drug, for she'd felt so terrifically tired and had not even cared about him seeing her going to the toilet. And that ugly rubber, all filled with his stuff-even the sight of that hadn't bothered her at the time, though now the mere thought of it made her ill. But the awful lust that had overwhelmed her, that was the worst part of it all. It gave her an insight into what consumes the drug addict, but she knew she was strong enough to resist its lure.
Laura suppressed a sigh of relief as she got the knot undone. She took more than a minute in stealthily leaving the bed of shame. Hopefully he'd still be sleeping when they came to drag him off to jail, protesting his innocence all the way and trying to blame it on her. That wouldn't work. Her reputation would back her up, and she meant to prosecute him even if it would mean disgrace, and losing Chuck's love. And Coleman's declaration of love, that bad been just one more part of the sneaky, forced seduction that had followed her rape. It was something else to make him pay for.
There was a light in the east, and she was loathe to make her escape in the nude. She couldn't risk waking him by either trying to take a sheet from the bed or some of his clothes from the dresser and now in the dark she couldn't find his dirty laundry, nor did she want to stay and look for it. The door to the living room creaked, but his snoring went right on. A table in the living room had a stained cloth on it-she remembered that-and she found it in the dark. She slowly pulled it off, and almost had it safely in her hands when something that had been on the table clattered to the floor.
She didn't wait to hear if it had awakened him. She leapt for the door, trailing the tablecloth behind her, and tasted one whiff of freedom before the big black dog attacked her.
The chain between his collar and the porch railing snapped taut and his explosive barking drove her back on her heels and into the house again, where Perry Coleman caught her from behind.
He had an erection. She could feel it against her backside, and it was almost as frightening as the dog's sudden barking. And then she could see it from the corner of her eye when he turned the lights on, and she tried to cover her front with the tablecloth.
He laughed and said, "I should have figured a company girl like you was an early riser. What'll it be first, Laura, breakfast or a shower-or would you like a little of this to start off the day?"
She sneered down at the bony flesh he held so obscenely in his hand and loftily replied, "I'd like a shower, but I wouldn't touch anything of yours to eat or drink."
"Okay, we'll take our shower first," he said, and took her by the wrist.
"What do you mean, we?"
"We'll shower together," he said with a leer. "It not only saves water, it's lots of fun."
"I'd no more take a shower with you than I'd eat your drugged food," she said, staring him straight in his evil eyes.
He became grim, frighteningly so. "You will take a shower with me, you'll eat my food-none of which is drugged-and you will not try to run away again, because if you do, I'll beat you within an inch of your life. C'mon."
She went with him. She was half sick with hunger and a hangover and too demoralized by her thwarted escape to be able to resist. And when he got that look in his eye, he was so intimidating.
In the cracked shower stall, he was jolly and playful. The water running over her didn't provide even the meager protection of the tablecloth he'd taken from her, and she was constantly flinching away from him as he tickled and poked at her and tried to draw her against his slick, wet body. His demeanor had the reverse effect on her and soon she began to cry. It disgusted him.
"Jesus Christ, can't you learn to relax and swing with it a little? Do I have to start from scratch with you every time?"
"I didn't want to take a shower with you," she blubbered, letting herself be drawn against him.
He said, "Okay, honey. Finish your shower by yourself. Then we'll have a little breakfast, maybe make a little loves and then I've got to shag down to the Happy Hour and get your car."
She readily agreed, for he'd not only offered her a respite for the moment but would also give her another chance to escape in his absence. It was wonderful to be in the shower alone, cleansing herself of his filth, although surprisingly enough, she couldn't see or feel any of it in her vagina. She stayed as long as she could, turned off the water, and stepping from the stall was paralyzed by the sight of him seated on the toilet, reading a magazine.
Was he defecating right there in the same room with her, right there on the same toilet he'd seen her sitting on? It was even more of an affront to her badly damaged modesty, but she had to go on for the towels were on the other side of him, and now he was smiling up expectantly at her. She held her breath as she came forward, naked, with all the dignity she could muster.
She'd almost succeeded in getting past him when he grabbed her by the hips and turned her to face him, leaned forward and worked his tongue into the top of her wet slit. The unexpectedness of it, the sheer grossness of it, rocked her back on her heels. She made the mistake of grasping his head to keep her balance, and he took that as encouragement and drew her closer, tongued her deeper. In spite of herself, she had a flashback to when that same tongue had produced such fantastically wonderful sensations in her vulva, and at that she tried to push him away.
He pulled back his head, but his hands were still firmly holding her quaking hips as he licked his lips and said, "That beats orange juice for starting off the day. Now turn around and bend over and let me taste what I've been lookin' at for the past year."
Bewildered when he turned her about, she was shocked when he began licking the water off her behind. She would have broken away from the warm, slimy tickling but his fingers dug more deeply into her thighs. Was there no end to his depravity? She managed to look over her shoulder and confirm what her fanny was feeling, and it made her smile a little. That was just the place for a man like him, kissing her ass. She thought of what else he'd said, about her bending over, and she smiled more cruelly.
His long fingers dug into her hips; his thumbs parted her buttocks, and he started licking her anus. She couldn't believe it! No one, not even a degenerate like him, would do that. At first she was embarrassed for the whole human race, and then she became angry at this member of the race that was defiling it all. If she could have, she'd have pooped right in his face, but the fiendishly creepy feelings back there had her sphincter very tightly closed.
He tried to open it with his tongue, and she exclaimed, "How can you do such a thing! Stop before I get sick."
"Like you gut sick of me eating your cunt last night?" he asked, and sent a stab of pleasure through her by slipping his tongue in her vagina and then licking back up to her anus again.
Laura felt very light-headed. Supporting herself with her hands on her knees, she looked back between her legs at him. He was not only licking her there, he was enjoying it. That was obvious, for, framed between her pendant breasts, she could see his penis, and it was up hard again. She was beginning to see how a person might like to have someone do this to her, but in no way could she imagine the doer enjoying it. It was a little bit like having your vagina tongued, a fact which he reminded her of by slipping his tongue down there again. But she wished he'd stop. She thought he was going to when he quit digging into her buttocks so hard with his fingers, but then he slid one hand down between her thighs and up again, and started diddling her slit.
It was wet, and not just from the shower. There really was a sexual feeling connected with what he was doing with his tongue, and it might be explained by the proximity of her anus to her vulva. Then again, it might all be due to his fingers, which she could clearly see working softly and accurately through the sodden hair of her cunt. But even his other hand, massaging the flesh that he'd been so tightly gripping, felt good. If it was true that a woman's buttocks were an erogenous zone, it should follow that her anus would be the very core of that zone. He knew that from experience, and loving her in his misguided way, he was using his knowledge in trying to please her. And if she'd been a more liberated person, she might have really liked It.
Laura tried to concentrate on only the workings of his fingers, for in that way she felt it might be possible to experience an orgasm, but she couldn't do it. His tongue, stabbing and swirling in her asshole, was too much to be ignored. God, it felt wonderful, and she reached back to part her buttocks for him, to feel more of it.
He chose that time to stop, and when he did, she almost pitched forward on her face. He held her up, straightened her, and then he turned her around and kissed her. The kiss took her breath away and made her realize how hot and panting she'd been. It made her breasts feel very good to be mashed against his chest, and it even made his penis pressing against her belly a hugely exciting thing. And then it sickened her when she remembered with stark clarity just where the tongue in her mouth had been.
She savagely wrenched away, and he followed, laughing, saying, "Not so bad, is it? Got you all turned on again, didn't it? We'll get back to it later, but now, how are you at scrambling some eggs? I've worked myself up quite an appetite."
In the little kitchen of the shack, she was so furious that she felt she might explode. She was furious at herself for having reacted to that disgusting perversion, and she had reacted-she could still feel the seething itch all down between her legs. It was so bad her cunt was brimming over, but she adamantly refused herself the luxury of scratching it even one little bit. And she was furious at him for having so used her, for having reduced her to such a degree of mindless sensory reception.
He sat in a chair at the oilcloth-covered table, his prick peeking up from between his crossed legs like some obscene plum. He was reading the paper as if nothing had happened, and he was smirking to add to her fury. Her impulse was to brain him with the frying pan, but that, wouldn't do. She'd learned at Consolidated that it was logical planning, and not rash action, that got things done. And the back door was right there.
Haughtily, she heated up the frying pan and got milk and eggs from the refrigerator. Going through the motions of preparing the meal, she almost succeeded in stilling the shaking of her hands, but she could not stop the itching in her cunt. But she could think now. The salt was on a shelf by the back door. She poured the beaten eggs in the frying pan and eased over toward it. It didn't matter now about running out naked. She could hide in the cornfield until dark, if necessary, but in her present infuriated state of mind, she was ready to walk naked into the police station and say, "Look what he did to me! Just look!"
When she knew she could make it, she lunged toward the door, wrenched it open, and found herself confronted with a deep freezer. She was trying madly to climb over it when those same strong hands gripped her hips and pulled her back inside, and she began crying.
"You just don't know when you're well off, do you?" he said, and taking her by the hair, dragged her, stumbling, into the bedroom. There, he sat on the bed and forced her to lie across his lap. He said, "Remember what I just got done telling you about what I'd do if you tried to run away? Here it comes."
Laura's parents had believed in reason as opposed to corporal punishment when she was a girl, and the only spankings she'd received in her life had been playful ones, on her birthdays. This was anything but playful now. His hand was huge, and terribly strong. He knew just where to spank her to hurt her the most, which, it seemed, was all over her bottom. The blows themselves were terribly sharp and loud, and she quickly lost count of them, and in between those blows she could feel her ass swelling up and smarting more and more. He spanked her with his right hand and held her hair with his left, pulling her head back so far that she couldn't move without breaking her neck. She could scream, however, very loudly, and she could kick her feet and beat the bed with her fists. None of this did any good toward stopping her humiliating and painful chastisement, but somehow it helped to make it easier.
When he at last stopped spanking her, he went on hurting her in a different way. He took great handfuls of her blistered bottom, squeezing it and saying, "What a beautiful goddamn ass. It sticks right up, and now it's red all over. I've gotta have a little more of that."
He laid her, still weeping loudly, face down on the bed, and he got behind her, opened out her legs, and began kissing her ass again. She was so sore there that even the soft pressure of his lips and tongue was painful, but the pain was very incidental to the enormous sensual pleasure he was delivering to her. It felt so good she couldn't believe it was only his mouth and hands there, and she opened her eyes to try to confirm what she was feeling. She saw herself with her face mashed against the bed, all red and puffy and tear-streaked, and looking very much like that of a little girl. Her ass, however, was unmistakably that of a woman. It stuck up from her quivering, twitching body in an utterly beautiful fashion, and for the first time in her life she could see why it attracted men, for it even looked sexy to her. She could see why he loved to kiss and caress it, too, and she wondered if he knew what effect it was having on her. Her entire ass was as sensitive as her clitoris, and his kisses were so exciting she felt as if she was orgasming all the time.
"Now, isn't this better than getting a spanking?" he asked between hot, thrilling kisses.
"Don't stop," she muttered into the bedclothes. "Please don't stop."
"Upsadaisy! Get up on your knees, babe," he said, and heaved her up by her hips.
Now her ass loomed huge behind her, perfectly curved and glowing a rosy pink, by far the highest part of her body, as her breasts and face were still mashed against the bed. Prick in hand, he waddled forward on his knees, grinning broadly at the terrifically erotic sight he saw. She felt she was coming all the time he was working the meaty knob of his prick up and down her foamy wet cunt, and when he shoved it all the way in, her orgasm reached a peak.
It wasn't like the others she'd known. Before, when she'd reached the zenith of sexual pleasure, she'd had to thrash and heave about, as if in search of something more. Now she was perfectly still, knowing nothing she could do would add to her pleasure. He was sawing it in and out of her most lustily, hanging on tightly to her hips with both hands, his body curved, his stomach muscles bunching with each deep stroke. In the mirror, she could see much of his cock each time he pulled back, and her labia could be seen being pulled back with it. And now whole body was as sensitized as her buttocks. In addition to being able to feel his individual pubic hairs when they pressed against her ass, she could feel the weave of the sheets with her nipples and the trickle of her love juice as it ran down her leg.
He was fucking her very hard, and it was sheer heaven. It was just as good when he pulled out his dripping cock and stuck it in her ass. He grimaced and his hands dug deeper into her hips. He was coming in her, and she loved that, for she wanted everyone in the world, even him, to feel as good as she did.
He wanted the same thing. As he squirted his cum in her orgasming body, he grunted, "Come! Now, baby. Come!"
She thought she couldn't come any harder and then she thought she was coming harder, for her love juice was flooding out of her as fast as the good feelings were flooding in. But then, as his final plunges drove her down flat on the mattress and she felt how wet it was on her belly, she realized she'd lost control of her bladder in her heavy orgasm and wet herself. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered except that wonderful big cock in her.
He began to pull it out, and she clutched at the bedclothes and babbled, "No, wait! Just a minute! Perry, don't take it… Ahhh," she sighed, for when it was gone, it had left behind delicious, deep languor.
"What a fuck," Perry said. "Baby, you sure learn fast. I fucked the piss right out of you. You asleep? Hey, I gotta go get your car.. I hate to tie you up again, but I'm going to have to. It won't be for long, Laura. Remember, I love you."