Chapter 10

The first shrieking scream, pitched high enough to shatter a wine glass brought out the neighbors on Elm Wood Street.

"What's that, Harry?" said a tiny woman, her hair rolled in curlers.

"I don't know," her husband answered. "It's scary."

The couple was joined by a second neighbor. He was an old fireman, an unhappy sort who lived two doors down from Margaret.

"Jesus, that was enough to wake the dead," he snapped. His bowed legs, the result of an on-the-job accident moved slowly and with great difficulty. "Sounds like they're skinning a nigger."

The woman with curlers sniffed arrogantly. The fireman, a dyed in the wool racist was a bothersome man, one she could do without.

"Sush, Mr. Youngman," she said. "We need none of that."

"Yup," Youngman giggled. "But whoever did the shrieking is in a hell of a lot of pain."

There was no denying that assumption. And they stood outside for several minutes trying to learn who made that hideous, scary noise.

They waited several minutes, but heard nothing. The screaming was not repeated. The wind blew through the elm trees, birds chirped as they winged through the air and peace and equanimity reigned. It was as if nothing had happened. As if the scream was a product of fantasy, not fact.

"Well, fuck this," Youngman said. "I got better things to do than to wait around here." He started hobbling away, his legs jiggling about, threatening to walk away at the knees at any time.

"If you want my two cents worth, I still think it was a nigger doing the hooting."

"Harry, come on," said the woman, grabbing her husband's arm. "I don't want to listen to the-likes of him."

Together, they walked back to the house, the woman with hair curlers bitching about the neighborhood going to hell.

Inside the house, Margaret watched the street through a slit in the curtains. She breathed a sigh of relief when the neighbors returned to their homes. Quickly, she closed the curtains and slumped down into the sofa.

At her feet, lay an exhausted, dazzled young teenager. She lay curled up in a ball sucking her thumb. Between her thighs lay the plastic cock.

Margaret's face was drained of color. Her heart pounded with fright. She looked down at the child, her satiny skin drenched with sweat and wondered what had possessed her, Margaret Anson, to inflict torture upon this young thing.

She wanted revenge, but the dildo was overdoing it. Margaret placed a guiding hand between the girl's clenched knees and gently spread her thighs open. The artificial cock was still buried deep inside Sherry's fuck hole.

You are insane, Margaret thought. Only a mad woman would do what you did.

She reached down and gripped the ridged dildo hand. It was stuck inside her hole, and Margaret had to tug to get the damn contraption out of her.

"Noooooo!" Sherry gasped. She tried weakly to resist, but her energy was spent. Out came the cock with a popping sound. Margaret held up the infernal device, now all wet and sticky from Sherry's seeping cunt, and wondered why she had got the girl interested in the first place.

She would never forget Sherry's face, how it had crinkled up like a prune, her cheeks livid with pain and horror.

"Love my dickie, darling," Margaret had said. "Want to feel it work magic up in your hole."

Sherry response, that magnificent scream had sent her recoiling against the sofa. It had scared the piss out of Margaret. For one terrible instant, she thought the girl had died. Her ears were still ringing.

Luckily, she had managed to stop her from further screaming by stuffing the girl's mouth with socks. God, it was just awful watching her squirm and undulate around the floor, the enormous cock zinging electric shocks to her cunt. But at least she had stopped the screaming. That was impossible to stand.

Now sweat glistened on her heaving belly, a shining coat of lubricant, a salty reminder of her bodily needs, a liquidy, wonderful stuff.

She was indeed a gorgeous girl this Sherry. Even now, drained of energy she was beautiful to the eye, her body lying repose, perfect as a Greek sculpture.

Margaret, beside herself, bent over the exhausted youngster and touched her sweaty brow.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," Margaret said. She was repentant. And now looking down at the girl's loins, Margaret was reminded of her own youth. How bad she had been. A regular hellcat. After discovering her first man at age twelve, nobody could keep her away from boys. Her daddy had beaten her more times than she cared to remember for letting boys get into her pants. So Margaret had sympathy for Sherry. After all, the girl was only a punk kid trying to learn the hard facts of life.

"Did it hurt?" she asked.

Sherry managed to raise her head. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth. Her stomach felt weak as if sagging under an enormous weight. She looked up at Margaret, her eyes focusing on the older woman and said in her tiny voice: "What was that?"

Margaret held up the white phallus. "A toy, dear. A very wonderful gift that a man once gave me."

Sherry whistled. The cock had been buried up to the hilt in her twat. Her hot flesh had surrounded that "toy" as Margaret so coyly called the dildo and she had felt the charge in her womb. A toy, hell; it had the bite of a rattlesnake.

She had never orgasmed so fast in all her life. Pent up fear drained through her channel as the cock thundered in. Her vagina spread open, her womb surged with joy. If she left for a convent that moment and never experienced sex again except for occasional masturbation, Sherry knew she would have wonderful moments to reflect upon.

"Soooo nice," she gasped. "It was very nice."

Gordon had still not returned and it was growing dark outside. Margaret was playing cards to pass the time. But she had a hard time keeping her mind off sex. The dildo was safely back inside her pocket book. But still she dreamed of the machine's awesome power surging into her body.

"Why didn't you try the dildo?" asked Sherry, an impish smile spreading across her face.

The girl was not only bright, she could also read minds.

"No, I can wait," Margaret said. "I can wait for Gordon to return."

There was an awkward pause as Sherry rose to her feet. She stammered at first, then looking Margaret straight in the eye, the little tyke said: "I bet Gordon would get upset if I told him what you did."

"And what do you mean by that remark?"

The beaming expression plastered all over Sherry's face told Margaret all she needed to know.

Why that little bitch is blackmailing me, Margaret thought. She placed the cards down on the arm chair. Sherry was sitting across from her on the sfoa. In two steps she could have her hands around the girl's throat. Margaret felt the blood pulsate in her neck. In two steps she could have the dildo once more in her hands. And this time she would teach her a real lesson. One not so quickly accepted as the first.

Sherry was not bothered. She sat oblivious to Margaret's sudden anger, her bright eyes shining like exquisite jewels.

"Oh, you could hurt me again," said Sherry. "But where would that get you? And what would Gordon think?"

Gordon was the pivotal point around which Sherry's argument was based. Everything was dependent upon him. She had felt for herself the sweet, violent thrust of his prick inside her womb. Margaret didn't want to lose him. And Sherry knew that.

"I won't tell," Sherry promised. "If you give me the plastic cock."

"Impudent little bitch!" shouted Margaret. In blinding speed, she was out of the chair and across the room. Her hand came down with bone jarring voice catching Sherry across the cheek.

Sherry was off the couch in an instant. She started to cry.

"Now nothing will stop me," she whimpered. "I'll tell everything."

She started for the door, but Margaret caught her by the arm.

"Now listen," Margaret said hastily. "No reason to get mad. I'm sorry about hitting you."

Now it was Sherry's turn. Rearing back, she drove her fist hard into Margaret's soft gut. The blow caught the big woman unaware and the sucker punch bent Margaret in half.

I did it! Sherry thought. I really did it! She was so amazed at her power, at the say so she had in controlling her destiny, that Sherry wanted to jump up and down screaming for joy. Margaret was groaning, holding her belly hobbling around like the helpless, frail woman that she was.

She went for the purse and grabbed the dildo. The round plastic handle felt secure in her hand. Quickly now before Margaret had regained full strength, Sherry dove forward. She hit Margaret behind the knees and both women went tumbling.

"Won't tell!" Sherry shouted, trying frantically to ram the cock into Margaret's cunt. "Won't tell! You better goddamn well do as I say if you still want Gordon as your boyfriend."

She rolled the dildo in her hand. "Now turn over," Sherry said. "I'm going to turn the table on you.

And she started pushing the plastic cock up between Margaret's butt cheeks. Up to her pink little asshole.