"Get ready."
"Oh." Gwen rolled painfully over to her side and tried to open her puffed eyes. Her shoulders and back ached. She pushed herself up on one elbow and forced her eyes open. Allen was throwing socks and shorts into a small bag.
"Get your ass in gear, Gwen. It's Friday."
"Friday?" She tried to move her legs, but a throbbing pain in her crotch made her stiffen. She reached down and felt the tender, battered flesh around her vagina.
"Yeah, Friday. We're going up to see Sybil and Bob. Now come on." His voice was restless and his hands shook as he tried to snap the suitcase closed.
"Hurry the fuck up," he yelled, his eyes smoldering, his biceps twitching hysterically.
"I can't move," she mumbled, closing her eyes and falling back against the mattress.
"Get up." Allen pulled her roughly to her feet. Her joints felt like they were on fire as her knees buckled and she fell against him.
"Please, Allen? Let me sleep?"
"No. Sybil wants us up there by six. She's having some guests over. Some beautiful people she told me about."
He stared at the wall, his eyes glazed, his mouth twitching.
"I don't want to go. I want to sleep."
Grumbling, Allen lifted her and carried her to the bathroom where he sat her in the tub and turned the shower on. The cold water pelted her skin, wetting her hair and trickling icily down her nose and chin. Allen picked up a bar of soap and gruffly rubbed it over her skin and then pushed her head under the steaming water.
"Now, get ready. Put some make-up on and look presentable." He clomped out of the room, leaving her sitting limply in the cold shower.
Gwen slept most of the way to Santa Monica. It was a restless, discomforting sleep filled with the bitter memories of the previous week. She fought the thoughts, trying to think of them as beautiful, but the throbbing aches coming from nearly every spot on her body made the struggle difficult.
Her hair was still damp as she walked stiffly behind Allen to the McCuskers' house. She had covered the bruises on her face and neck with makeup, but couldn't hide them from her mind.
"Hello, handsome."
Sybil met them at the door. She wore a see-through house-dress revealing her smooth, tanned flesh, her dark patch of triangular pubic hair, her long, squash-shaped breasts with their proud, protruding nipples. Bob skulked in the living room, not at all happy with the visitors.
"Gwen, you look lovely, dear," Sybil lied, noticing the woman's haggard face and her matted hair clinging to the sides of her face under her scarf.
"Thank you," Gwen stammered, shuffling her feet and feeling uncomfortable.
Sybil laced her arms around Allen's neck and ground herself against him as she kissed him.
"I've missed that, Allen," she whispered.
"Me too."
Sybil broke away from Allen's tight grip and led them into the living room. Bob stood near the repaired stereo, a fatuous look on his face.
"Well, say hello to our lovely guests, Robert."
"Hello," Bob said, turning toward the stereo and fiddling with the knobs.
"Hey, I see you got it fixed, old boy." Allen marched over and slapped Bob on the back. "Looks as good as ever. Sorry about that, again."
Bob grunted.
"Still a little pissed?" Allen poked him in the ribs and laughed.
Bob wheeled away. "Hello, Gwen."
"Hi." She reached up and touched her tender cheek where Allen had hit her two nights ago.
"Say, you look like you've been partying all night."
"You bet we have," Allen boasted, grabbing Sybil by the waist and pulling her against him. "Good friend Sybil here taught us a few tricks that were really wild." He pressed his slobbering mouth against Sybil's and forced his tongue into her mouth.
"Easy, Rover," she said, pushing him away. "Let's not rush things."
"Just happy to see everyone," he answered, slapping her hard on the buttocks. Bob clenched his fist and took a long draw from his drink.
"How is everything, Gwen?" Bob spoke quietly to the disheveled-looking woman next to him.
"Fine. Fine." Her voice quavered and she pulled at her fingers nervously.
"Is everything all right?"
"Yes. Fine."
"Is every thing still beautiful." His voice was hesitant.
Gwen's eyes flicked furtively from side to side.
"I… yes… I think so… I'm glad to be here, if that's what you mean."
Bob sighed and sat back. "You remember what happened last time you were here?"
She shook her head, trying to recall a particular incident. "No. Just that we loved each other, as we always do."
"That's right."
"How's the golf game?" She didn't care about the answer, she just wanted to rid herself of the loud buzzing in her mind, to wash away the detached sensation that overcame her as she watched Allen and Sybil pawing each other across the room.
"Not bad. Has Allen been loving you?"
She lowered her head and looked at her chipped fingernails. "Yes."
"Did it hurt, when he loved you?"
She bit her lip and looked at Allen's hands as they cupped Sybil's blossoming buttocks.
"No. I love him. When you love, nothing hurts." The words came out automatically. They weren't true, but she couldn't say that he had hurt her, that she remembered the pain and soreness, the curses and the interminable attacks Allen had made upon her the past week.
"That's good," Bob said, sinking back and crossing his legs. "It's important, very important, that you only feel love – nothing else."
"I understand." But she didn't. She didn't understand why she was saying the things she had said. She didn't understand why Sybil was fawning over Allen's penis and laughing as he pinched her breasts and made her squeal. She didn't understand why Bob sat like a lamp, not looking at his wife with another man.
"We have some interesting guests coming over this evening," Sybil said, pulling Allen to the couch by his penis. His hand was cupped between her legs, fondling her vagina through the wide fishnet material. "I think you'll all enjoy them, especially you, Gwen. I invited them especially for you."
Her wide mouth curved into a mischievous smile.
"Right, Robert?"
Bob didn't say anything. He glared up at Sybil and felt like lashing out at her with his fist, beating her against the wall until she was bloody. But he didn't, for he knew that's what she wanted. She would enjoy every smash of his fist against her, cry in ecstasy as his knuckles crunched into her face. No, it was better to let someone else do it. It was better to keep his distance and only watch. For he knew his wife was as vicious as the men she chose to mate with, and that she always won in the long run… always.
Allen was drunk, running around the house chasing Sybil, telling crude jokes to the couples who had come a half-hour ago.
The guests seemed to be watching Allen as if he were a phenomenon captured suddenly in their laboratory. Occasionally, they looked at Gwen and tried to engage her in nonsensical chatter, but she was elusive and quiet, watching, as the others were, her husband's infantile antics as he played the role of the party buffoon.
Allen had no inhibitions. He jumped around the room mimicking a frog and telling the onlookers how he raped a poor unsuspecting princess who thought he was a prince in disguise. They laughed, encouraging him to play more ludicrous roles.
Bob sat disconcerted in the corner, looking more at the liquor in his glass and at Gwen, than at the jester and his court.
"Come on now, everybody, it's time for the main event," Sybil called, waving at the guests to press close around her. "Gwen? Come on, Gwen."
Her joints creaking, Gwen stood and joined the group. She felt the eyes staring at her, roving over her thin body. She saw the tongues lick out and slide across the lips. She saw the hands opening and closing, opening and closing.
"These are my friends, Gwen. They want to help love you as we have." Sybil paused and reached behind her, grabbing Allen's penis and squeezing it as she watched Gwen's expression.
"Do you understand?"
"Yes. I think so." She pulled at her fingers.
She could hear the heavy-set man next to her breathing coarsely. A thin, rail of a woman with bony, birdlike hands pressed her finger against her hollow cheek and stared at Gwen through dark, blemished eyes.
"These are all beautiful people, too, Gwen." Sybil's hand swept around in a circle. "They love you. I asked them to, for me."
"That was nice of you."
"I did it because I love you, baby," Sybil said, pursing her lips and laying a hand on Gwen's shoulder. "Now. I want you to let these wonderful people undress you and then love you. Just shut your eyes and enjoy their love, Gwen. It is a deep love, as ours is."
Sybil's cat-and-mouse smile skidded across her face.
"I won't be here with you, Gwen. Your husband and I are going to enjoy our love together in the bedroom. You don't need me here. Just remember that these people love you, they want you very deeply to love them. Will you do that for me?"
"Yes."
"Good." Sybil pulled her close and kissed her, rubbing her hands up and down Gwen's back.
"Come on, bitch," Allen interrupted, pulling Sybil away.
"I'll see you later, Gwen. Have a good time."
Sybil shrank away.
As instructed, Gwen closed her eyes. First, there was one hand and then another and another. They pulled at her clothes, ripping them off her confused body. She stood naked, her eyes pinched shut, trying to think of things wonderful, beautiful. But she only saw the red, botched images of her eyelids.
Hands gripped her breasts and thighs and she felt herself being lifted and carried through the air. Voices laughed beneath her, hands probed at her vagina and mouth. She felt the skinny, tough fingers of the woman she had noticed pry her lips apart and push the shaft into her mouth.
"Suck!"
She began to milk the finger, tugging on it with her vacuuming mouth. It tasted bitter and its fingernail scraped against the roof of her mouth.
"On the bed. Put her down in the middle."
The soft bed met her body and she pressed down, feeling its comforting warmth against her flesh. She was so tired, so tired. She wanted to sleep.
"Jack her legs up. Over her head."
The hands pulled her legs up, stretching the kinked muscles until she felt her knees rub against her ears. She started to cry out, but stopped as the words love and wonderful filtered back into her mind.
"George. Get on her stomach and suck her cunt. Linda, sit on her face and make her tongue your swat. We'll fuck every hole in her body."
It was as if she were dreaming. Her body was squashed and kneaded. Flesh scraped against chest. Hands, rough, careless, cruel hands, pulled at her breasts. Fingers pried at her vagina. Her mouth was smothered by a rancid-smelling mass of coarse, hairy flesh. A restless tongue licked inside her painful, raw vagina. A breast shoved against her ear. Urine burned into her mouth and made her cough and choke.
A searing bolt of pain made her shake as she felt the cheeks of her ass spread and a blunt, hot instrument enter her rectum. She tried to straighten her legs, but the hands held them securely, the voices laughed.
"A hot candle up her ass, you've got to be shitting me?"
"Quick, take a picture, this is too good to miss."
"Perverts."
"Yeah, look who's talking?"
"Hey, move a little to the right, I can't get your face in. There. Shove the candle in a little more. Good. Good."
A light flashed. The voices laughed.
"How was it?"
"Wait a minute. Just a minute."
The fingers burrowed into her as the time passed, the mouth licked at her cunt. The candle shoved in and out of her ass.
"Hey, the exposure was off. Light it again and get it hot."
She felt the candle being pulled out of her bowels, heard a match strike and then the searing pain again as the molten tip was pushed into her.
A trickle of urine leaked into her mouth, tasting wane and salty and burning down her throat as she gulped, trying to keep from choking again.
"You guys are so funny you're making me piss."
"How'd it come out?"
"Good. It's a good one."
"My turn. I want one too."
The weight on her face disappeared as the woman above her climbed off. She started to open her eyes, but another crushing weight mashed down against her face.
"Lick my asshole, bitch!"
Gwen gasped for air, trying to free her arms to push the smothering flesh away from her nose. The man above her shifted and she quickly sucked in a breath of air.
"Lick it, bitch."
She felt the brutal hands twist her nipples and instinctively licked out at the orifice shoved against her mouth. She felt tiny balls of crusty gunk grit along the sides of her tongue as she poked her tongue into the portal.
"Hey, Sybil trained this one good. She knows what she's doing."
Gwen's tongue wriggled this way and that, punching at the puckered flesh with every ounce of training Sybil had pounded into her head. It was as if this were the test of her abilities, the true manifestation of her love for Bob and Sybil. Yes, that's what it was, she thought. These were friends of Sybil's, loyal friends, and Sybil wanted to test her. That's why she had gone away with Allen. That's why these people were so interested in her, because they loved Sybil too. Yes. Yes.
The thoughts hammered into Gwen's mind and the pain disappeared completely. She had her second wind, she had her love.
Wrenching her arms free with a sudden burst of strength, she reached up and clutched the man's pudgy rolls of fat around his waist. Pulling down, she forced his ass cheeks to spread and wormed her tongue in deeper and deeper. A cock flopped against her nose as she grunted, shoving him up and yanking him down.
"She's a real tiger. Look at her."
"Man, to hell with the candle. I'm getting on her face next."
They were proud of her, she thought, they were all very proud of her. They were going to tell Sybil how good and loving she was, they were going to rave about her and make Sybil love her even more than she already did. Yes. Yes.
Gwen slid her hands down from the man's waist and captured his short, stiff penis that bounced against her face. Pressing her palms together, she began stripping it, smashing the heels of her hands against his groin as she jacked him off furiously.
"Oh, God! God! Look at the bitch go! Look at her!"
Faster and harder her hands slid over the cock. Her tongue beat a bizarre rhythm inside the man's anus, making his flesh quiver against her face. She could hear him panting and gasping as he shifted and slid over her face, helping to drive her tongue deeper.
A cock slid into her exposed cunt as she worked the man's ass clean. Another cock snaked into her ass. A tit pressed against one ear, a finger into the other. She was filled, filled with the love that Sybil had brought her tonight. She was sharing everything she knew, offering it to people she couldn't see, people she could only imagine. But that didn't matter. Love mattered. Love didn't need a face or a figure, it only needed flesh, the cool, hot, slippery, dry, quivering, still sensation of flesh against flesh to be love.
Her guts burned and her head ached, but she paid the pain no heed. She snapped her cunt muscles tight and wriggled her hips, settling the cocks deep into her eager, hungry body.
Her orgasm was building, filling inside her as the flesh bars and tits were stuffing themselves in her every crevice.
She curled her tongue and dragged it out the man's anus, plunging it rapidly back in and repeating the process until she heard him squeal.
Her hands flew over his cock, squeezing it so tightly she could feel her hands touching one another as she pumped the tiny rod. It was coming. It was erupting. It was more powerful than any orgasm she had ever had. It rolled inside her, bursting first in her stomach and lungs, showering sparks out to the tip of her tongue, to the marble-hard nipples of her breasts.
She felt it. Her hands whipped over the cock and the sperm splattered out onto her face, dripping down into her eyes, her hair, rolling down the sides of her head, collecting in her ears.
The man s come made her hands slick as she slid them relentlessly over the little pole and licked madly into his ass.
"I came! I came!" he wheezed.
Simultaneously, Gwen stiffened. Her tongue hardened inside his ass. The cocks jerked out their jism inside her vagina and asshole. Her body began to shake, trembling and spasming as she spat thick streams of saliva into the man's pulsating hole.
"Uggghhh!"
"Ahhhhh!"
"Shheeeiitt!"
The screams filled the room, drowning Gwen in a sybaritic pool of writhing, teeming human lust that carried her away into the festucine fog she interpreted as love.
"Bitch! Rotten filthy cunt!"
Sybil screamed and thrust out her breast as Allen thrashed her welted flesh again and again with the wide leather belt.
"You slimy, no good Viet Cong bitch!"
Again the belt lashed down, stinging and cutting sharply along the side of Sybil's massive tit.
"Enough," she whimpered, falling to the floor and kissing Allen's feet. "Enough, my love."
"No. No!" Allen's eyes were mad, glinting insanely against the harsh red light that filled Sybil's bedroom in a bloody glow.
The belt hissed through the air and smacked Sybil's buttocks, the tip curling up and slicing across her cunt.
"Stop, Allen!" she cried. "I command you to stop. I am your love. You must do as I say."
"No. No! You're a rotten Viet Cong cunt!"
He dropped the belt and began slapping her face, knocking her from one side of the room to the other.
"Bob! Bob! Help!"
She covered her head with her arms and warded off the stinging blows.
Bob rushed through the door and dived through the air, catching Allen off guard and slamming against the wall. His head hit the corner of the bed and he slumped to the floor.
Bob raised his fist to smash the man when Sybil yelled at him.
"Don't hit him, Bob. Don't hit him."
Holding her bruised arm, she clambered to her unsteady feet.
"It was my fault, now leave him alone."
"I'll kill him, Sybil. I'll kill him!"
"Don't be melodramatic. Get away." Wincing in pain, she pulled at his shoulder until he fell back, his chest heaving, his fists balled at his sides.
"You were a good husband, now go on back to your booze."
"You've got to stop this now, Sybil. First the girl and now this guy. It's getting out of hand."
Sybil whirled around, her teeth flashing orange as the passionate red light in the room mixed with their creamy whiteness.
"I'm running the show, you're the curtain man. I call the shots. Now, I say get out of here. GET OUT!"
"You're going to be sorry, Sybil. I warn you. These people are cracking like a couple of dry twigs. You better leave them alone, now, before it's too late."
"OUT!"
She picked up the small lamp and threw it at him. It splattered against the wall.
"All right, Sybil. But we're not through talking about this. Not yet. I'm calling Largo."
"Bastard," she hissed. "Bastard."