"Slut. You filthy whore. Those were the scum of the earth and you let them fuck you. You sucked their clicks." Allen's face was scarlet. His lips curled back odiously.
"Allen. Why? Why?"
"Sybil told me you were a little whore. She told me you fucked anything with legs. Now I know. Now I know."
"No! No!" Gwen screamed, burying her face in her hands and sobbing. "No."
She didn't see Allen reach into his pocket and pull out the cord. She didn't feel him grab her hands and tie them to the headboard or lash her feet to the bottom frame. She heard nothing but the loud ringing in her ears as her mind fought to comprehend the meaning of it all.
"You wanted a party," Allen shouted, shoving his face into hers. "Well, you'll get one."
Laughing insanely, he strolled out of the room, returning a moment later with a can of Ajax and a bottle of cheap wine.
"You're a slut. I have to clean you up you slut."
He shook the powder between her legs, on her breasts and face, then splashed the wine on her, laughing shrilly all the while. His trembling hands slapped at her flesh, rubbing the coarse cleanser into her skin. He rammed his finger into her vagina, screwing the digit in and scraping the soft tissues with the gritty mixture.
"Stop, Allen! Stop!"
She was as tense as a spring. When his fingers washed the cleanser around her clitoris, she began to feel the hotness coming to her cheeks, the uncontrollable desire gripping her. The room began to bend in toward her, Allen's laughing shape wavered before her eyes. Her mind reeled.
"Stop! Stop," she panted, trying to fight the teasing, hungry need he was stimulating in her.
"You like that, don't you, bitch?" Allen shoved his fingers in brutally. "You like that."
"No," she whispered. "No. I don't."
"Yes you do." He jacked them in and out faster. The blood-filled clitoris bulged out against his finger, aching for more and more attention.
Gwen tried to buck her hips. The ropes burned against her wrists and ankles. The pillow beneath her head was damp and soggy from the tears that rolled down her face as she struggled not to respond.
Her body betrayed her, arching up against the pain of her bounds, driving itself against his finger.
"Fuck. Fuck me, Allen," she whimpered, her mind jiggling like lusty Jello in her head. "I need it. I can't help it."
"You lie. You're just a whore. A rotten whore."
He jerked the finger away and she began to cry, twisting her arms and trying to get her fingers down to her hole to relieve what he had started. He sat back and laughed at her and began rubbing the Ajax on her nipples, grinding the gritty particles into the tips of her nipples, making the smooth flesh rise up with red, streaked welts.
She felt the powder sift into her mouth and eyes as he roared with laughter, laving her body madly with the soap. The pain was suppressed by the want that made his every touch electrify her body.
"Sybil. Bob," she whimpered, coughing and choking on the powder as Allen shook it down her throat. "Someone help me! Please! Help me!"
Allen's hand lashed out and knocked her head to one side. She remembered his maniacal laughing as she slipped into the disturbed solace of unconsciousness, her hips jerking up and down, her tongue licking at her lips, tasting the blood that lingered there.
"Whore. Viet Cong whore. Killer. Murderer."
The words rang through her mind as she fell headlong through the nightmare-filled world of blackness.
"I'm sorry," Sybil said sitting next to Bob and rubbing the back of his neck with her hand. "You were right about them. I think we went too far."
Bob hesitated, then relaxed and leaned his head against Sybil's firm, jutting breast as a little boy might against the consolation of his mother's bosom.
"I'm glad, Sybil. I'm glad you're back to yourself."
"I am," she said, hooking her chin against his neck and smiling lewdly. "I have it all figured out. Exactly where we went wrong and how we can solve it."
"Just forget about them, I suppose," Bob replied, nuzzling down into her cleavage and desiring her body. It had been so long since the two of them had shared their lustful demands. Allen had taken her from him completely, but he was gone now. Now things could return as they were, with the two of them sharing their desires, feeding off one another's body as they used to.
"No, we can't just forget them," Sybil said smoothly.
"We have to protect ourselves. There's no telling what they might say about us if the police ever got to them."
"What do you suggest," Bob said hoarsely, running his hand down between her legs and cupping Sybil's vagina.
She cringed at his touch. Bob wasn't like Allen. He was like a little boy, waiting, hoping that she would let him have some. Watching. Waiting. Allen was a man. He was rough and bitter, violent. He could please her by himself. She wouldn't have to go out of the house to seek a man to satisfy her, or a woman to lull her in the interim.
"One more meeting. We'll have one more meeting. I'll ask them to come up and once they're here, I'll have Largo come over and snap them out of it."
Bob's hand stopped its manipulations. He sat up and looked at her.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Sybil."
"We have to," she said, pulling his head back down against her chest and opening her blouse so he could suck on her nipple. "Believe me, Bob. I know what I'm doing. It will be the last time. We'll rid ourselves of them and protect our interests at the same time."
"All right," he said, letting the nipple fall from between his teeth. "I'll call Largo tomorrow."
"No. You don't need to. I thought this whole scheme up. I'll call him."
"All right," Bob mewed, slipping his hand down the front of her capris and feeling the damp lips of her vagina. "All right."
Sybil smiled as she wriggled her hips and helped Bob pull her clothes off. The smile preyed on her lips as she leaned back on the couch, her legs forked, and pushed her husband's head down to prepare her snatch. She felt his tongue licking at her slot, nibbling at her clitoris, sucking at the hole like a small boy eating a slice of wet, dripping watermelon. It was like the final feast before the slaughter, she thought, wrapping her long, lithe legs around his head and squeezing. It was his last taste of her flesh before…
Allen put the phone down and laughed his way into the bedroom. Gwen was still spread-eagled on the bed, her hair matted and sticking against her face from the wine, blue splotches of the cleanser pooled around her breasts. For the past two days she had been drifting in and out of consciousness, each time Allen acting more insane and torturing her with lighted cigarettes and forks, jabbing the burning tips of the cigarettes against her nipples and poking at her tongue and clitoris with the fork until she nearly had an orgasm. But each time she reached her peak, he would stop and let her lie there begging him to finish her, to let her complete the burning desire ready to explode.
"Poor, baby," Allen said, rubbing her flesh with a warm wash-rag. "Has daddy been mean to his baby."
He pressed the cool cloth against her breasts and "V". The feeling was soothing and Gwen looked at him suspiciously, wondering what he was up to.
"Allen?"
"I'm not going to hurt you any more," he said, wiping at her face with the cloth. "I've been a bad boy. Sybil just called and told me to stop being mean to you. She wants us to come up and love them. She said she would make you well."
His buckling voice was steady and his jaw relaxed as he looked at her sympathetically.
"She wants us to come up tonight. Like old times. I'm going to untie you now and let you get cleaned up. You will be nice, won't you? You won't run away or scream?"
He untied the bonds. Gwen put her arms around his neck and cried, feeling her numb hands begin to tingle as the blood rushed back into them.
"Oh, Allen. What's happened to us? What's the matter?"
"Everything is going to be all right, baby," he said, rubbing his hands up her marred back. "Believe me, everything is going to be all right."
"I'm scared, Allen. I'm terribly scared," Gwen said, biting her lip and hugging him close.
"Don't be scared, dear. Sybil and Bob love us. Sybil told me so over the phone. She said we should love her. And we should be happy."
"I want to be happy, I want to," Gwen answered, feeling a chill up her spine as Allen's cold hands pressed against her back. "I want to be happy."