Chapter 5

Susan was in a quandary. She hated the man for forcing himself on her, but at the same time her body was feeling the urge for more of what he had done to her. The simple truth was, she was, for some reason, enjoying sex immensely with this man, but she wasn't enjoying the fact that he was rough with her, abusing her, even hurting her. Granted, the orgasms all seemed to make it worthwhile, but if there was one thing Susan had learned to hate because of her ex-husband, it was the idea of a man dominating her. This was another reason why she had not only avoided men wherever possible, but when she did come into contact with them, she allowed herself to deceive them, taking money from them under false pretenses, making promises she never intended keeping, lying to them, one and all, cursing them out, making accusations, putting the blame on them for things obviously her own fault.

Somehow she had to convince him to be gentle with her. She was, after all, his prisoner up here, and there was no way she'd be able to escape. There was no reason for him to be cruel.

She was awake now, alone in the large bed. The position of the sun told her it was mid-morning. She rose, went to the bathroom and took a long shower. Then she decided to dress. The green skirt-suit with the white blouse that he had bought her was a twin for the red one she had worn the previous day. She put her other clothes in the washer, but when she did put on the green skirt-suit, intuition told her to keep the undies off. He had torn her nightie to shreds, and he would no doubt do the same to the undies. So beneath her skirt she was completely naked, and she wore no brassiere under her blouse. Though it was cool outside, she kept the top to her suit off.

She went out in time to see him driving back. When he parked the car in the same place as before, she saw him open a newspaper and turn to the financial section.

Walking over to the car, she opened the passenger door and got in. Leaning over, she looked at the stock prices and flinched, barely able to see. Her own stocks had dipped so low, her account had to be closed out. She had bought on margin, and had covered the margin a half dozen times, but it had never been enough. When she had wanted to throw more good money after bad, Tom had refused to give her any more money.

"Well," he said, nodding at the paper, as she slid closer to him and held one side of it, "those three bowwows of yours have been thrown off the exchange. From now on they'll be trading over-the-counter, assuming that they'll be trading at all."

His right hand was resting on her left thigh, already sliding under her skirt. She took the other section of the paper from him, holding it herself as his right hand moved around her shoulder, and his left hand took its place on her thigh. Her blouse was open at the top, and she felt his breath as he peered down and saw she was wearing no brassiere.

"Why must you be so hateful?" Susan asked.

"Respect got me nowhere with you," he shrugged. "I showed you respect, I even loved you for awhile. You took advantage of it, Susan. You used me. Now I'm going to use you."

"Are you saying you don't love me anymore?"

"Can you love someone who has no love for you? Can you love someone who has conscientiously used you again and again?"

"Perhaps in the end, if you had persevered with love, you would have won."

"We're too old for games, Susan. You're almost forty, and I'm not much younger. With every passing second we get a little older. Don't hand me any crap about really loving me. We both know you have this big hang-up about not wanting to be sexually involved with anyone, and that being the case, it means you don't love anyone. The truth of the matter is, you're too afraid to love anyone. So I've stopped loving you. I know I'll never see the money I've 'loaned' you, so I propose taking it out of your hide. I can either beat it out of your hide, which means continual beatings for about a hundred-and-eighty days straight, or I can fuck it out of your hide. I have the feeling that in spite of your fear of fucking, you would prefer that to my beating it out of you."

"I see," she signed, putting the paper down. "Very well, you have me a prisoner here, so do what you wish with me."

"I will, I will," he nodded.

"But at least be gentle about it. The cruel way you handled me last night was sinful."

"Didn't you come?"

"Yes," she admitted. "But you hurt me so much, first."

"And how many times have you hurt me?" he asked.

His fingers were inching down from her throat, moving inside her blouse, touching her breasts. She wondered what he was going to expect from her, and then his hand folded over her breast and a charge of lightning blasted through her as he caressed the nipple.

"Wh-what are you going to do?" she asked. "For the moment, you'll do the doing. Open my fly, pull out my cock, and start tugging on it."