Chapter 6
Why did he have to talk to her that way? Why couldn't he use decent words, at the very least? She wriggled uneasily.
"So, not loving me, what will you do when you get rid of me?" she asked.
"That's my business," he shrugged. "Besides, the pleasure of using you will take a little while to wear off. You're not going anywhere so fast, Susan. I'm going to fuck you in every conceivable way, first, and do it more than a dozen times each way."
"I see. Then all I am is something to be used."
"Just as I was something to be used by you," he shrugged. "Come on, dear woman. Where's your hand?"
Her attempts to continue the discussion in the hope of distracting him for awhile hadn't worked. Well, she had tried.
Her ears picked up the sound as he unzipped his pants, himself. His left hand reached out and grabbed her left hand, and he pushed it into his fly. Her fingers wrapped themselves around the cock and pulled it out again. God! Now that she gripped it, it felt like a thick, electrified cable. She had already forgotten how huge he was when compared to her husband. She remembered a girl-friend of hers once telling her, "Don't let anyone kid you about size and thickness not counting. Granted, a skinny whang that knows how to be used is better than a fat one that doesn't know how to be used. But a fat cock that does know how to be used is better than all of them."
Well Tom had proven he knew how to use his cock. It was apparently in proportion to the rest of him, because he had a fat belly and a fat cock.
Susan shuddered, gripping Tom's throbbing phallus very gingerly and daintily. It was almost as if she was afraid it might impregnate her through her hand. She wondered if what he did to her last night would make her pregnant. God! He had almost killed her when he had stuffed that oversized sausage into her. If it had been her ex-husband and not herself who was sterile, then she would no doubt become very pregnant before leaving here.
The penis felt hot in her hand, and she quivered, wanting to let go of it, not daring to. It was obvious from what this man was telling her that he intended making her perform all kinds of sick and perverted acts; acts she had read about, heard about, but acts her husband had never made her do, thank God.
"Hold it like you like it," he snapped. "Pull it up and down and stimulate it, honey."
Obediently, she tightened her grip, though inwardly she was beginning to feel a little ill. God! What was the matter with this man? For that matter, what was wrong with her that she was unable to bring herself under control? Once, for a little while, she had fancied she might love this man. That was before he had displayed his heavy ardor. Now he made her feel like some kind of street tramp. He made it all seem so dirty. She felt like a whore.
It was warm in the car even if the air outside was brisk. Her hand squeezed his pulsing prick even more tightly and squeezed it. Her ears picked up the sound of his breathing, and she realized his panting had become somewhat heavier in the past few minutes. Suddenly he turned and grabbed her, crushing her against him and pressing his mouth fiercely on hers. It was last night all over again. When he behaved this way, she wanted to cut and run. There was no tenderness in him, although just holding his hot joystick was doing things to her. He seemed to thrive on naked sex, expecially with her.
He tore his mouth from hers, and she saw the wild look in his eyes. His hand moved away from her breasts and his fingers encircled her neck from behind.
"Wh-what are you going to do?" she timidly asked, squeezing the base of the penis even harder, holding it upright.
Before she realized what was happening, his hand had pushed her face down until her lips were hovering over the head of his pulsing cock. He squeezed her neck a little, and she opened her mouth to protest, and that was when he jammed her mouth right onto the throbbing organ. It was all oily and sticky. He pushed harder, and half the length of cock was in her mouth before he realized what had happened.
"Ggggglllluuuurrrr ccccchhhh!" she gasped.
"Suck it!" he gasped. "Come on, suck it! I'm going to teach you how to really suck a cock, Susan. By the time I'm through with you, you'll be the best cocksucker this side of paradise."
Oh, God! She was going to be sick. She just knew it. The purple tip of his throbbing organ was pressing against the opening leading to her gullet, and it made her want to gag. This was sick, depraved, completely unclean. She felt the sticky ooze, and it tasted faintly sweet and pungent and salty. It should have been nauseating. The fact that she actually swallowed some of that sticky mess ought to have made her sick, and the fact that it didn't ... that she actually liked it, was something her mind was unable to accept. His two hands were gripping her head in place, forcing her face still lower until the massive organ was pushing its head into her gullet. She twisted her head in an attempt to pull the penis out of her throat. Her hands dug their nails into the backs of his hands and she pulled until he let go and she was able to free her mouth.
He grabbed her neck, turned her to face him, kissed her full on the mouth and licked his own secretions out, and snapped, "Don't you ever dare do that again. When I tell you to suck, you suck."
"P-lease," she whimpered. "N-not here. In the house. I'll do a-anything inside the cabin, but not out here."
"What the hell is wrong with out here?" he wanted to know. "There's no one around, no one to see or hear, or anything."
"I know," she said, crying. "I know, but I feel so much more exposed out here. All right, I'm your slave, and I know it. I'll do anything you want, even if I sometimes fight you, but have the decency to do it to me inside. Please!"
As she spoke this last word, she pulled her face away and he let go of her neck. Turning, she opened the car door and ran out, heading for the house. She was glad of the momentary reprieve, but was unable to shake the taste of his penis from her mouth. Shaking, she ran into the bathroom and locked the door. What was happening to her life?
Finally she brushed her teeth-he had brought her a toothbrush-and she rinsed her mouth with Scope. Oh, God! What in heaven's name was she going to do? There was no phone, and she was so blind without her glasses, she would never see to be able to get away. The worst part of all this was her having liked it.
Yes, in spite of her tears and the fact that she hated his forcing her head down, underneath there was an eerie, almost astral sensation of inner excitement that continued flaring just under the surface. He was teaching her the meaning of desire, even if it was in a forced manner. It had been so long since any man had touched her that Susan hadn't realized how, in all these years, she had become so taut and strung-out. There was a weird feeling in her now, a feeling of need and anticipation. Tom had "forced" her to understand what lay beneath her hate of sex. He had brought out the desire in her, and she hated him all the more for it, for he admitted he no longer loved her.
She had read somewhere that when a woman enjoys sex and then is deprived of it, an unbearable need for it builds up inside her. She was certain something like that would never happen to her, but the truth was, something like that did happen to her. There was an incredible urgency in her, screaming for all kinds of relief, and she realized that alone, up here, she had the opportunity to give vent to those inner feelings. But to do so with a man who hated her? Even if she was beginning to understand him, and ... yes ... love him a little, she felt unclean because he no longer loved her.
Her mind raced and her heart pounded and somehow her tears dried and she became somewhat calmer. An idea was taking place in her mind. What he wanted her to do was dirty. But if she were able to seduce him, to make him want her vagina, then maybe he would forget about dirty sex, and he might be content to simply fuck her. She wasn't worried about his making her pregnant at this point. After all, he had fired one big load into her last night, and if that didn't do the job, then there just wouldn't be enough sperm in the future ejaculations to really be of any danger to her. Yes, yes, that was it. She would try seducing him and making him "fuck" her. God! What a filthy word.
Sighing, she finally unlocked the bathroom door and hurried to the bedroom before the man came in. She heard the front door open and close, and she called out to him, "Don't come in, yet. I'm making myself look nice."
There was no answer from the other side of the door, but he didn't open it. So she assumed he was being somewhat agreeable.
A thought came into her mind. He had seen her in the shortie nightie the night before and he had ripped it off her. Would he do the same with the next shortie nightie? After all, he had only bought her six, and there were only five left. Oh, she wanted to arouse him. Now that she thought about it, she wondered if she might not be able to rekindle the feelings of love inside him. But she wanted him to want her for more than her body. He wanted her solely on a physical plane at the moment, and she preferred it if he would want her for her inner self, as well. Besides, being practical, the man, a bachelor all these years, had put aside a tidy little nest-egg, and even if he wouldn't allow her to gamble with it in the stock market, it would give her some sense of security.
She dug out the next shortie nightie, an orange, frilly affair that seemed to almost match the color of her hair. It was no less transparent than the one she had previously worn, but what the devil! He had already seen as much of her as there was to see. So she put it on, seeing the way her breasts spilled out of the top of it because of the cord under the cups which pushed her mammaries up. She wore nothing below, the transparent frilly bottom of the nightie covering nothing, in fact blending with her pubic hair so as to make it almost invisible.
Unlocking the bedroom door, she stepped outside, her heart hammering now. Susan had to try and win the man over again, if only for her own safety and peace of mind. That he would be forcing her to go to bed with him again didn't matter. He was doing that now, anyway.
The only light in the large outer room was the light coming through the windows. By now, it was almost noon, and the sun was almost directly overhead, so almost no actual sunlight came into the room.
"Tom?"
She felt foolish all of a sudden, putting on a shortie nightie in the middle of the day. Would he laugh or be sarcastic.
"Ah, I see the slave of the house has finally decided to descent from her ivory tower."
She turned to find Tom sitting in the one large chair in the room. He had a drink in his hand. She had known Tom to take a drink now and again, but this was the first time she had seen him with one during the day. He was staring at her, devouring her with his eyes as he had done the night before. Dear heaven! He sounded nasty again. Was he drunk?
She would have to brave it out. She knew he was intent on using her, so what the hell, try and make him do it her way.
"I only put this on to make me look good for you," she told him, laughing nervously. Hell! She had never seduced a man before. How did one go about doing it, anyway?
"D-do you like it?" she asked, turning around slowly, letting him see her nakedness through the transparent cloth. "Y-you see, it's better inside here. I mean, we have the whole place to ourselves anyway, and we can do what we want wh-where we want. I would never feel as relaxed outside as I do here."
"You are such a liar, Susan," he spat at her. "Have you any idea how transparent you are? I can see through you as clearly as I can see through the nightie you're wearing."
She froze, suddenly clutching her elbows with her hands, pressing her arms into her body as if he had actually taken a spear and had jammed it into her belly. How was it possible for him to be so cruel? Here she was, just about agreeing to anything he wanted, and he was calling her transparent and a liar. She was trying so hard, so hard, and all he was able to do was make fun of her. Suddenly she was furious, blindly, burningly, angrily furious.
"How dare you talk to me that way?" she gasped. "I don't know what it is you want from me any longer, but whatever I do, it just isn't good enough. I've had all I'm going to take from you, Tom."
Susan turned and fled into the bedroom, feeling more humiliated and hurt by his words than by anything he had previously done to her. Inwardly she was shaking with anger. His hand was suddenly gripping her arm, first one, then the other, and he began shaking her from behind.
"Oh, no you don't, you sweet little bitch!" he snarled. "I'm the one man in the world who knows you better than you know yourself. You knew there was no way to escape being fucked, so you figured you'd do it on your terms, demurely, in a lady-like way. Well, I brought you here as my prisoner, my slave, my captive, and that means you're going to do anything and everything I want, and you're going to do it all my way."
Susan listened, staring at the fat man, hearing him through a maze of confused mental anguish. There was pain in the pit of her belly. The pain of humiliation, anger, fright, and the terror that he knew her so well he had seen right through her. He had obviously loved her at one time or another to know her so well. Why did he hate her so, now? Why was he hurting her when he was able to have her willingly? Why wasn't it possible for him to behave rationally toward her instead of making her feel she was a failure as a woman.
Yes! Failure! That was it! She was just that, a failure as a woman. He was needling her, driving home the fact that she had, until now, been unable to respond as a normal woman.
She felt his arms catch her under the knees, and then he was lifting her frail form, carrying her through the bedroom door. She struggled and tried slapping his face, but he was much too strong for her. The tears were pouring down her cheeks now, and she began to cry bitterly, the anguish and the inner pain too much to bear.
He tossed her onto the bed and she curled herself into a ball, quivering with sobs and hiding her head in the pillow. Never, in all the years that she had been married, had her husband made her feel so inferior as a woman. But this man knew tricks, devilish tricks her husband didn't know, and he was using them all to good effect on her. She was more terrified at this moment than the night her husband had come home and had smashed a beer bottle and had threatened to carve her face.