Dianne sat on the dais in the background along with several other dignitaries listening to the drone of Mark's voice as he addressed this audience assembled in a Union Hall. It had been the eighth one in as many days, a tour that had taken them throughout the state, until tonight when they were back in Rio Lado once more. She was exhausted from the living out of a suitcase, the traveling, long hours and poor eating routine, but the campaign was going well and this was all that concerned Mark, or A.C. Faro who was managing all affairs. Public prediction was that Mark would win handily, and with the election only three days off, she was grimly determined to see it through.
It was what was to follow that absorbed most of Dianne's thoughts through her waking hours. The few minutes of an evening she and Mark had spent alone together since the day he had broken in the door were invariably strained ones. There had been no sex, no pretense at love, nor a seeking of forgiveness on either's part. Their association had been one of simple, affable understanding, but with the election, whichever way it went, that too would be over. She intended to divorce him.
There was little, if any, chance for a reconciliation, she felt. What he had done to her was unforgivable. She neither loved nor hated him, but in fact, had filled that void in her emotions with a new greed of her own she had never before known. The luxury he had introduced her into had become a second nature; she had grown accustomed to its pleasurable benefits, and didn't intend to be without it again. Mark would pay, and pay handsomely. She had, with a little investigation, uncovered her secret weapon. It was to her advantage that Mark win his senatorial post; his position would be more vulnerable then, which was the main reason why she had endured the campaign and had gone out of her way publicly to pretend at being a devoted wife and helpmate. Her day was coming shortly.
Faro had never ceased at making advances. He continually watched her, the perpetual gleam of the lecher that was lighting his eye. Mark pretended to ignore it, but she knew it had begun to eat away at him. He had actually grown jealous of her, and that, for some reason, amused her.
Of course, there were no opportunities for A.C. to get her off somewhere without Mark's knowing, and had there been, she was certain she would've refused. Not that the memories of their erotic night together didn't move her when she thought about them; in fact, having tasted the full delight of satisfying sex, her voluptuous young body had sent off its craving desires to her brain too often of late, and there had been those moments when she would've openly welcomed A.C.'s long, thick penis slipping between her open legs… but such an act with him didn't fit into her plans at this time… and the new Dianne Coleman had become a terribly hard, mercenary girl.
Presently, she was experiencing a slight headache. She hadn't slept well the night before and had eaten only a small brunch early in the day. Mark had barely gotten into his speech, and of course there was always a question and answer period to follow. She felt if she sat there much longer she would certainly become nauseous… She leaned toward A.C. beside her.
"I'm not feeling well," she whispered, "I think I'll run along home and get a night's sleep. It's all I need…"
"By all means," said the Commissioner. "Look, I'll drive you…"
"No. That won't be necessary. I'll catch a cab," she said, realizing immediately what he had in mind.
"But, it's no trouble…" he tried.
"It might be," Dianne insisted. "And I doubt if I'm up to it tonight."
A.C. grinned. "Very well," he said. "I can wait a little longer."
Dianne returned his smile, getting quietly to her feet. "I'm sure you can," she said. "You're a dear, A.C., good night."
"Good night."
Phillip Gates sat engrossed at the back of the hall. He hardly heard a word that Mark Coleman uttered, but every sense of his being was occupied with the presence of the lovely blonde-haired girl who sat upon the dais behind him and to his right. The palms of his hand bore a thin film of perspiration. His dark, discernible eyes pierced the layers of smoke that hung over the room and dwelt upon the delightful feminine face and body unflinchingly. He bit at his thin lower lip and hoped that no one around him could feel the hatred he must be generating.
This was the third time he had seen her since she had eloped on him, and each one had been in the presence of her husband – the bastard – and at a similar political function. He couldn't resist the temptation to come and stare at her, to sit anonymously among the sea of faces and telegraph his vehement animosity at her, hoping childishly that in some manner it would reach her and penetrate to the very core, turn her blood to ice… force her to jump up and leave the stage…
When she stood, suddenly, he could hardly believe it. She was saying something to the man next to her, but she was too far away for him to observe the expression on her face. He sat up straight in his chair. Was she leaving? It was a gamble, but if she were she would have to use the alley. He stood, moved out into the aisle and walked outside to the front of the building. She would have to come this way, and his car was parked not fifty feet down the street. He tensed and waited…
"Pardon me," he smiled, "but don't I know you?"
"Phillip! My God… Phillip!" Dianne exclaimed. She broke into a broad smile and bounded toward him.
The greeting surprised him. He caught her in his arms, held her for a moment, then backed off.
"Oh, Phillip… how wonderful to see you. How've you been? What're you doing here? God… I'm so glad to see you…"
Again, he was taken aback. He'd expected anything but this type of salutation from her. His own smile burst forth uncontrollably.
"I came to learn what your husband has to offer the voting public," he lied. "But when you left the dais I thought there might be a chance of saying hello… for old time's sake."
Dianne looked at him for a long moment, her expression warm and receptive, then, she dropped her eyes consciously.
"I-I wasn't feeling well," she said. "These campaigns are kind of rough on a girl, you know…"
"I should imagine."
"I was just going home…"
"Can I drive you?" he asked in that straight-forward manner she remembered so well, the slightest of smiles playing around his thin, sensitive month. "For old times sake, that is."
She had been about to refuse until he'd used the last phrase. The warmth of his very presence caused the smile to well up from deep inside her. She couldn't have refused, even had Mark been standing beside her.
"I'd love it," she said.
He led her to his ancient vehicle and held the door, apologizing for its humbleness meaningfully, then hustled around to the other side before she had a chance to change her mind. His brain swirled. He couldn't believe that it had come off so well, that she would've been so receptive to him. But then, why not? Pity on her part. Reveling in her luxuries, why not drip a little charm and pity on the childhood sweetheart… the ex-boyfriend… the almost, but never quite, lover? Kicks!
He drove, his eyes glued to the street, a waxed smile stiffening his face. She seemed filled with elation at their meeting, damned near drenching him in her sympathetic, pretentious joy… or was it sympathetic guilt for what she had done to him backing up and overflowing in her…? God knows, she must have known some feelings of remorse… or did she?
Well, it made no difference to him one way or the other! He'd formulated his plans should he ever again get her alone, months ago. The idea of such an occurrence happening had been as farfetched as he himself running for state senator; yet, he had provided for it, planned it, and dreamed of the actual occasion time and time again.
It was here! Now! At hand! His steeped brain fell into automatic function.
"Where are you going?" she questioned calmly. "This isn't the way to Coleman Hill."
"I know. I have something I want to show you."
"Out here? We're out of town, Phillip. This road leads to the river…"
"That's right," he smiled over at her. "It took me a time to find it, myself. I come out here often and sit quietly. I look around and think of you… Remember…"
"Ph-Phillip," she said in an alarmed voice as he turned off on a side, dirt tributary. "Y-You're frightening me…?"
"Really?" He turned again on a second side road, suddenly coming into a clearing that overlooked the bank of the near dry riverbed. He jerked the keys, pocketed them and stepped out into the warm night. "I can't imagine why."
She watched him reach into the back seat, retrieve a blanket, then walk away with it to a large-limbed shadow of a tree. Inside her, a hollowness had begun to form as she studied his decided movements, watched him spread the blanket and his silhouette move toward her side of the car. When he was close enough, she saw his smile… cold and determined.
"Phillip…?"
"I thought you'd like to see where I come everyday to think about you," he said levelly, almost menacingly. "Sit with me, perhaps… or even lay with me…"
"Phillip… please…"
"Get out, whore," he said. He jerked the door open.
"Phillip… Darling… no, please…?"
"Get out! Get out, or I'll pull you out!" he spat sharply.
Dear God! Dianne gasped within herself. It's come to this… He intended to have her… to rape her if necessary. There was no question about that…! And God, could she blame him? After what she'd done to him? But this was not the point in question! How could she make him under…?
"Goddamn you! Get out of that car before I drag you by the hair!" he suddenly screamed at her.
She did. She walked to the blanket and lowered herself down to it. He followed close behind her and dropped less than an inch away from her. His body touched hers. She could hear his heavy breathing.
"You know what I want," he said. "I want what's left of that marriage-bed cunt I spent a young lifetime waiting for. Then, you can go back to your fink of a husband."
"Phil…"
"Shut up! I-I just want to know for certain that what I waited for wasn't worth it…"
"Oh God, Phillip," Dianne moaned. "Oh, my God…!"
He clutched her to him suddenly, his tongue splurting into her mouth, crushing her breasts against his chest, his hands smoothing over her back and hips. He lay over until he was prostrate on his back, pulling her on top of him and his long, sinewy hands moved down over the rounded orbs of her buttocks, hauling her into him, then down the backs of her thighs and back up to repeat the performance.
She whimpered loudly as she returned his kisses, grinding her pelvis against his and feeling his hardness there, her breath catching in her throat at the uncontrollable passion welling up inside her.
"Oh God, my darling!" she groaned into his mouth.
"I'm going to fuck you!" he said.
"No… no," she bleated. "You can't, Darling. You can't!"
"Why?" he hissed at her.
"Because… because, you're the only thing I have left to believe in!" she whimpered feebly. "You're my God of purity…"
"Oh… go to hell!" he blurted. He shoved her off him, arose to his knees and ripped his pants open. In a flash, his prick leaped out, long, thick and ugly, jutting forth in its upward arch and jerking savagely in its need. "There's your God of whatever you call it! Now… you either take your clothes off or I'll tear them off… because I'm going to fuck you tonight… willingly, or otherwise!"
Dianne felt the tears streaming down her cheeks. The sight of his member made her want to grasp it and love it, but she was not yet free to do that. Her vows bound her. She couldn't drag him… her own Phillip, down to the degradation she had sunk to. Dear God, how could she make him understand?
"Please, my darling…?" she begged… and then he was on top of her, ripping at her clothes.
She felt her dress bunched up beyond her waist and her flimsy nylon panties ripped away. She even tried to fight the joy she felt as he brutally climbed between her legs, forcing them wide apart until her sparsely haired loins were made helplessly available to him. And then, she felt his hands at the lips of her cunt, not brutal, but not tender either, and she felt her whole being lurch at the initial contact of the turgid head of his prick with the moist, soft delicate flesh; she knew there was nothing more to say… He was going to fuck her… and dear God, she wanted him to! Oh, how she wanted him to!
"Oh no, Darling, no!" she moaned in confusion. "Not this way… please?"
"Go to hell, you bitch!" he snarled, pushing her legs back and flicking his raging cock against the smooth, hairlined mouth of her unready and reluctant vagina.
"Aggghhh!" Dianne grunted as he ground the hate-filled cudgel into her unprepared channel without benefit of mercy, ramming it into the barely moist, raw sensitive flesh with a wicked rush that left her gasping for breath. She tried desperately to put her hands between them, to grasp his hips and hold them back, but he pinned her arms down and held them there.
His penis tore into her, scraping her tight vaginal walls painfully, causing the passage to contract and squeeze desperately around him as if it were trying to force him out as he thundered into her. He, too, gasped, at the sudden deliciously clamping enclosure hugging his rigid cock and he continued to pound deeper and deeper into her, forcing the warm, moistening flesh of her cunt in rolling ridges before it.
Lying helpless and dominated in under him, Dianne started to cry, completely going to pieces, but now firmly embedded in her, he began to fuck her pitilessly, trying to hurt her, she was certain, bending her thighs back to her shoulders, raising far out of her then thrusting right up to the cervix with brutal jabs so that she coughed and choked with the abrupt agony and humiliation.
"Oh… oh… Phillip… Phillip… my God, you're hurting me terribly!"
"Good! Good! You bitch! That should make it somewhat even!" he sneered down at her, panting and snarling, his strong fingers digging and gouging into her soft white flesh as he twisted her body this way and that, trying to stuff the expanding circumference of her hole. Then, he was plunging to such depths in her that at the apex of every lunge a spasm of torment jolted through her loins, and she bit at her lower lip and rocked her head back and forth on the blanket in an effort to endure it.
"Oh… please, please, Phillip…"
"Please what? You're no Godamned virgin!" he spat at her. "How many filthy pricks have shot their loads in this slut-hole of yours anyway? A dozen… two-dozen… or maybe you've lost count! Hell, this is just another fuck, pig… just another fuck!"
"No… no! It isn't true, Phillip… I swear… Ooooooh, Dear God, please, you're killing me…!" she pleaded. "I beg you…"
But he ignored her, beginning to go wild with passion and bitterness, his rock-hard penis battering into her with vicious, relentless strokes, his face a twisted mask of sadistic hate. His hands clawed and tortured her flesh and she writhed painfully away from them. She couldn't believe the horror of his attack as he drove deeper and deeper into her with each buffeting of his hips. His prick hammered into the moist clinging passage, his balls smacking resoundingly into the smooth crevice of her ass. Suddenly his hands went beneath her to cruelly cup the soft, white mounds of her buttocks, and he dug his fingers deep into her anal crevice.
"Oh, my God almighty!" she screamed. "Stop! Stop!"
She might just as well not have spoken, for he ravaged her with unheeding savagery, twisting his hips and crashing his throbbing organ deeper into her from every angle, feeling the swollen head tear at the lining of her raw vagina, raising gasps of bitter lust from him to match the moans of pain, degradation, guilt and misery from her own contorted lips.
The tender walls of her womanhood felt as if they were ablaze, her whole womb and belly being gutted and destroyed by the inferno of his hate-filled lust. Oh, dear God… it was too much… too much! She wished she could die! There was nothing left…!
Suddenly, he was ripping at the front of her dress, clawing at her bra until his hands found her soft, white breasts, and he began to maul her like an animal. His nails ground into her supple flesh and raked at the tiny erect buds of her nipples fiendishly. He squeezed harder and harder and she knew, even through her agony, she'd be a mass of purple and black bruises as her chest constricted from the pain…
It happened then, in the very midst of what she had thought was a never ending nightmare that would live with her forever. She saw the tears streaming freely down his sensitive face, his lips drawn back baring his teeth in a grimace of mental anguish. He was crying! He stopped fucking into her and she felt his hot tears dripping onto her exposed breasts…
"Jesus Christ! What am I doing?" he blurted at her, shaking his head as if in sheer disbelief. He didn't see her, even though he gaped down at her.
She lay beneath him unmoving, momentarily welcoming the respite in his savage rape of her aching body. Her mouth opened and closed as little gasps of breath gulped from her tortured lungs. His tears continued to wet her breasts hotly and she saw his chest convulse with a sob. At that moment, something lumped up into her own throat to choke her as her whole being seemed to overflow with pity, love and understanding of him; she reached upward for him, pulling him down tightly upon her.
"My darling, my darling!" she moaned, covering his slender, handsome face with wet, warm, sobbing kisses. "Oh Phillip… what have we done to each other…?"
For a brief moment, he lay as if stunned, succumbing to her words and caresses of love, then, with a jerk, he freed himself from her arms and raised up over her again. He gaped down at her, his hardened rod of flesh still lewdly connecting them together.
"You bitch! You dirty filthy bitch of a whore!" He shook his head wildly, hatefully, his mouth spread in a bloodless leer of vicious hatred. "You don't understand, do you? You can't realize how a man could feel that he's lowering himself by stooping to animalism… by stooping to your level! It's hard for you to understand that I think of you as dirt, isn't it?"
"Oh Phillip…"
"Isn't it, bitch?" he spat at her. "You pig! You slut! You rotten cunt-whore! You make me sick to my stomach… but I'm going to finish… I'm going to shoot my load of hate as deep as I can into that hole of yours and hope to God you're knocked up… Because then, my kid could grow up and learn to hate you as much as I do!"
"Oh God, Phillip darling, stop it… stop it!" she begged, her own tears dribbling down her soft cheeks. "You don't know what you're saying…"
"Don't I? Bitch! Whore! Cunt! Slut!" he half screamed, beginning to fuck into her once more like a demented fiend.
"Agggghhhh… oooohhhh… pleeeaaassseee… oooohhhh!" Dianne cried out as suddenly he used brute force to ram her legs back over her head and pounded his fury-incited long, thick cock into the already ravaged depths of her vagina.
She screamed and screamed as he continued to ram into her, breaking beyond all reasonable barriers, the swollen head of his prick pummeling and mashing her every intricate part. She begged and pleaded, wept as might a ravished child at the insane force and cruelness of his inhuman attack. Oh God, how he hated her! How he hated her!
He came then… with a sudden wet, hot relief that was almost too much for him to shoulder. He shot into her, into the very depths of her belly, knowing the clam-like mouth of her womb was open to him… shot into her in shattering long jets of hot, white sperm that spewed, and squirted and squirted, emptying all of the pent-up bitter hate of months in one great overwhelming release that Dianne could do nothing to avert… and she lay beneath him helpless, filled with shame, guilt and remorse, degraded, humiliated… destroyed… absorbing deep in her belly the life-giving liquid of this boy she had loved so much deep in the core of her battered and bruised body.
When it was done, he immediately kneeled back from her. Slowly, she let her legs down on either side of him. He stood, gaping down at her in the half-light as he straightened himself, finally zipping his trousers.
"It's done," he said coldly. "A… a kind of vendetta fulfilled. Now, I don't give a Godamn. Die if you want to, bitch. My debt has been taken care of."
"Ph-Phillip… oh Phillip… please listen…" Dianne heard her own feeble voice and could hardly believe it. She raised to her elbows and saw her splayed legs, her naked breasts… the obscenity of herself. Again, tears gushed down her cheeks. "Ph-Phillip, please listen to me…"
"Get up, pig. Now, I'll take you to the Coleman Mansion but don't speak to me again. Just get up and do whatever you have to do. I'll be in the car waiting. You've got five minutes."
He bent down and pulled the blanket from beneath her and she watched him walking away folding it. Then, slowly she got to her knees, the agony of her assaulted loins sending electrifying spasm of pain through her. Her vision was still blurred from her wet eyes as she tried to adjust her appearance, and as she stood, she felt her inner-thighs saturated wetly from the still warm drenching of his curse-filled semen that was seeping slowly down her legs from between the inflamed lips of her vagina.
For one brief moment, she lowered her head and prayed; then, she straightened, chin high, and walked to his car.
Oh well, she thought miserably, there was always tomorrow.