Chapter 9

Suzanne had been awake for a good while before the room's overhead light came on for the first time. The sudden brightness was painful, so that it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the flood of illumination. While spots danced before her eyes, she heard the door open and close again. A dim shape was visible. As her vision cleared, she saw that it was Craft again. He was in his usual slacks and tee shirt.

Suzanne noted two things. He bore a paper bag that hung as though it contained something heavy, and there was a strange, almost hunted look in his eyes. He seemed nonplussed. Frightened, perhaps.

Suzanne decided to take the initiative. "When do I get something to eat? I'm hungry. And I think I'm coming down with a cold."

Craft came across the room. "Later. I'll take care of that later." He upended the paper bag on the solid table that graced the room. Two pairs of handcuffs fell clanking out.

While Suzanne watched in silence, Craft snapped one pair of cuffs into a ringbolt at the head of the table. Then he brought the other pair over to her. "Hold out your wrists."

"What for? I'm already bound. Why do you need more?"

"Never mind. Just hold your damned wrists out."

The touch of desperation in his voice closed off any further resistance in Suzanne's mind. She knew instinctively that another word might well be her last. She held her arms in front of her. Craft snapped the cuffs over her wrists and made sure they were tight. Then he reached in his pocket and took out a key ring. He unfastened the collar around her neck, then moved to the chain that bound her ankles.

"Don't try anything foolish when I release you," he said.

"You couldn't beat me to the door if you tried. And if you were that silly, I'd be forced to do something highly unpleasant to you."

Suzanne nodded, afraid to speak.

Craft took off her ankle bindings and helped her to her feet. He kept a hand firmly on the connecting chain between the two handcuffs, ready to twist cruelly if she moved out of line. He pulled her over to the table. "Lie down on here. No-that way, with your head at that end."

Suzanne lay on the cool wood. Craft dragged her hands over her head and snapped the other cuff onto the connecting chain of her bindings. She was, in effect, chained to the table.

"Now, you just lay still a minute," Craft said. He began to undress, taking off all his clothes this time.

Suzanne squirmed a little and pressed her legs together. "I-I think I have t-to pee."

"You'd better not."

Suzanne lay still again.

Craft stripped naked and reached once more into the paper bag. He took out a large jar. Suzanne strained her neck and saw that it was jam! Strawberry jam. Craft unscrewed the top and dipped two fingers into the thick jell. "Open your legs."

Suzanne spread her thighs.

"Now lift them."

She did so.

Craft spread the paste of jam over Suzanne's pubic area, coating her whole pussy. He spread the mass into her crack and over the insides of her thighs. Then he scooped another handful and forced it into her slit. He stuffed jam into her pussy as far as his fingers would reach.

Suzanne felt strangely at the touch of the jam. It was cool and thick, but not unpleasant. And the sweet aroma of the stuff triggered both hunger and a kind of warmth in her. While her emotions were mixed, they were mostly pleasant. And she even caught herself experiencing a thrill of anticipation for what was to come.

Craft finished spreading the jam and licked his fingers. His cock was almost hard. It hung with a slight bow away from his body. He grasped the undersides of Suzanne's thighs and spread them father apart, then lowered his face to her navel and delicately tongued it.

A surge of pleasure moved outward from her navel in rings like a stone past in the water. Craft sensed her pleasure and tongued her again. Then he began to move downward, kissing and licking his way toward her jam-covered pubic hair. As he lowered his head, he forced her thighs farther and farther apart until they were almost flat on the table, her pussy drawn wide apart. His fingers kneaded the muscles of her inner leg in alternating squeezes.

Suzanne had her eyes closed and a smile was on her face. Despite her position, and the unwillingness of her participation in this act, and despite the unsavory character of her captor, she was content to enjoy the moment. It no longer surprised her that she could - and did - enjoy sex. Throughout the brutality and degradation of her initiation into the act, she had maintained a high level of emotional awareness which had resulted in her body's drawing pleasure from the pain. And perhaps even because of it. Somehow, the humiliation of it all added a certain spice to the proceedings.

She found herself remembering the erotic illustrations in the copy of de Sade that Craft had given her. She lost herself in a fantasy of that era, imagining that it wasn't the burned-out little man between her legs, but the powerful and sensuous figures in the book. Her fantasy blurred every now and then and the figures became men in black leather, in a dark room with a sinister throne. She was helpless before the demands of those men, bound in willing submission to them.

Craft's head had sunk below her belly. His rough tongue sucked greedily at the jam that coated her thighs and her crack. The sandy surface of his organ scraped deliciously along her tender and sensitive flesh, the motion smoothed and made soothing by the coating of jelly that lay on her skin. Craft licked thoroughly, removing all trace of stickiness from her body and legs. He made satisfied slurps as he worked.

Suzanne felt her body beginning to respond to his ministrations. With her legs spread and braced, there was not much motion possible, but she humped with her pelvis and raised her cunt up to his face. He responded by diving avidly into her sticky bush, lapping and sucking the jam off it. Suzanne could feel herself beginning to flow, her juice mingling with the jelly and saliva that coated her labia. She knew that she was on the verge of coming.

Craft inserted his tongue into her slit and began to suck the jam out. He licked and chewed, his teeth nipping painfully at her flesh. This only inspired her to further action. Her buttocks contracted and released in rhythm with his sucking. Her thighs tightened against his fingers, the muscles banding into cords beneath her smooth flesh.

Then she came. She gave a quavering little cry as her juice flowed freely over Craft's mouth. He drank it in, licking greedily for more. As she came, he rubbed his nose hard against her pudendum, causing fresh spasms of climax to wrack her body.

Suzanne came for a full minute, and when she was done, Craft lay almost dormant, his face still buried in her pussy. Looking down the perspective of her body, Suzanne could see him with his eyes peacefully closed, his nose buried in the thick, fluffy hair of her crotch.

For almost five minutes Craft lay still, with his and Suzanne's breathing growing steadily slower. Then he roused himself and stood up. He still held Suzanne's thighs in his hands, and he now let his fingers slide up to her ankles. He pulled her legs together and pointed her feet straight into the air. He shifted his position slightly and Suzanne felt the tip of his cock pressing against her pussy. She welcomed the feeling.

Craft leaned into the table and let his cock inch its way into Suzanne's cunt. As the blunt probe slid into her depths, Suzanne felt a vibrant new surge of need rise in her. She closed her eyes again, to concentrate better on the message being sent by her sex.

Craft began to fuck her slowly and evenly. He wrapped his arms around her legs and began to kiss her toes. This was a new sensation to Suzanne and she liked it. She liked it very much. She had never felt anything quite like it. The whole underside of her legs and body were pressed into Craft's flesh. From her buttocks to her toes, she was in contact with him. And his cock was deep in her hole. Unconsciously, she locked her fingers together over her head and began to caress herself.

Craft's breathing was accelerating, and so was the pace of his attack. He bent further forward, tilting Suzanne's body yet higher, so that her pussy was almost vertical. This pressed his cock against new areas on the inside of her body and the shift in sensations aroused both of them to new heights of ecstasy. Both their faces were flushed now, and both of them were breathing heavily. There was no longer a question of captor and captive; only of two people fucking. And enjoying it.

Craft's tempo slowed a little, but the ardor of each thrust increased. He came into her in powerful lunges, punctuated with pauses on the outstroke. He clamped down on her toes with his teeth, sending quick little pains down her legs and into her sexual centers.

They came together, mixing their juices and their cries in a release too old for history. Again, both people were still for a few minutes, their breathing slowing.

But this time, Suzanne's mind was racing. The sex was beautiful but her position wasn't. When Craft had first began to spread jam over her and she had realized what he intended, she had thought wildly about clamping his head in her thighs until he passed out. But the thought had gone quickly. What good if he were unconscious and she was still chained to the table? Now a plan was forming in her mind. She was determined that it was now or never if she were to escape this evil man's clutches.

Craft interrupted her thoughts. "Did you like that, Suzanne? Was it good?"

"Y-yes, I did," she answered truthfully. "I-I-liked it very much."

"Good. That's very good. I like it when they enjoy it." He made a conciliatory gesture with his hands. "I'm not a bad guy, you see. I'm as good as they are."

"They?"

"Yeah. Roger and Phyllis and the club."

"The club?"

"Yeah. They have this club where they all dress up in black costumes and have sex. They claim they are liberating themselves from their repressions. They do these chants up in the room behind Roger's bedroom."

So, Suzanne thought, it wasn't hallucination. It had all been real. And strangely, the thought brought her pleasure.

"They won't let me join. They say I'm unstable." He turned his dead, burned-out eyes on Suzanne intently. "You don't think I'm unstable, do you?"

"N-no, Walter. No, I don't think you're unstable."

Craft began to dress, pulling on his tee shirt first. "They do all those weird things to each other, beatings and leaving bruises and all. And they call me a pervert! I'm entitled to my fun, too, aren't I?" He came around to the head of the table and pulled the key ring out of his pocket. "I take care of you, don't I?"

"Sure, Walter. Sure."

Craft unlocked the cuff that was set into the table's ring bolt. "Someday I'm going to show them. They're not so fucking much." He took Suzanne by the arm and helped her off the table. "Someday I'm going in there right in the middle of one of their orgies and I'm going to kill them all. Kill them like I did the girls who displeased me. Kill them and cut them up and put them in the lime pit. That's what I'm going to do."

His words chilled Suzanne into almost absolute fear. She knew now that if she didn't escape this man now she never would. And she knew that she would only get one chance.

She took a deep breath, steadied herself against the table, and threw her weight against Craft's shoulder, yanking her hands free of his grasp. He staggered a step sideways. She lunged desperately across the table, her hands seeking and finding the jam jar. Craft recovered his balance and dove for Suzanne, his face a mask of rage and madness. Suzanne threw herself sideways on the table. Craft struck its smooth surface and sprawled across it, his hands scrabbling for Suzanne. She levered herself upright against the table's edge. Craft pushed himself upright. Suzanne lifted the heavy jam jar over his head and brought it down full force. Craft jerked his head aside, but not far enough. The jar smashed into his temple and exploded into a shower of jam and glass.

Craft staggered upright and stumbled back a few steps. He stood weaving, his face covered with jam and blood, and glared insanely at Suzanne. The malevolence in his eyes was so palpable that Suzanne was rooted to the floor by its sheer intensity. Craft made a horrible, growling sound. He reached out toward Suzanne and his fingers closed spasmodically around an invisible throat. He took two slow steps toward her. And then he collapsed in a heap on the stone floor, the light in his eyes going out.

For a long time, Suzanne could do nothing. She felt too weak to move and was in shock from the sight of the bloody mess she had made of Walter Craft's face. She had never struck a man before in anger, let alone smashed his forehead in. She began to tremble violently and started crying. She threw her hands over her face and wept. Oddly, she still felt the urge to urinate.

The everyday normalcy of that need brought her around. With a few deep, shaky breaths, she brought herself back under control. She knuckled her eyes clear and prepared to make her escape. She stepped gingerly over the body of Craft and went to the drain in the floor. She peed long and relievedly and wiped herself with some straw. Then she rose and moved again to the body. He was breathing steadily but was out cold. There was a long flap of skin and flesh torn loose on his temple, but it didn't seem that his skull was injured. The bleeding was slowing as the blood coagulated. Suzanne decided that he was going to live.

She rolled him over on his back and fished through his pockets until she found the key ring. With no further delay, she went to the door and tried the keys until she found one that fit.

Then she returned and attempted to wrestle Craft's pants off, but his dead weight was more than she could handle. She moved around to his head and worked the jam and blood-stained tee shirt over his head. He groaned and writhed a little but remained unconscious. He was only a medium-sized man, but the tee shirt looked large enough to cover her vital parts. It came about an inch below her pussy, but Suzanne decided that for the moment that was sufficient. She gave one last glance around, lifted her chin, and opened the door to freedom.