Chapter 2
Karen finished a manuscript and leaned back in her chair for a few minutes rest before picking up the next one. Strange, she thought-it seems as if I've worked here for years. The vision of her paycheck, now in her pocketbook, came to her. It was the second one she had received, so it meant she had been here only one month, as of today.
The job was routine by now. Read 'em, try to find some merit; if she did, send it on upstairs. She had been keeping a little score card of her own. As of yesterday, she had sent ten books upstairs for further consideration. Of the ten, four had actually been purchased. A very good score, some of the other readers had assured her. Most of them averaged nine turndowns for every one book accepted by the higher echelon.
That brought to mind some of the other people in the office, and that in turn took her thinking around to Doug Morgan. They'd been out together three times now, she reflected; once a week for the last three weeks. Dinner, and then the rest of the evening at a few kooky little places he knew where the music was wild and the people likewise. They'd shaken hands good night after the first date. She'd let him kiss her at the end of the second. Most of their third evening together she had spent looking forward to a good night kiss and worrying a little that he might not try to, for some reason.
He had, He'd done an amazing thing. As he was kissing her in the privacy of the little front vestibule between the outer entrance doors and the hall, he had thrust his tongue between her teeth and into her mouth. Shocked, she had tried to pull away, but he had held her motionless with a hand behind her head. Then, in a second or two, it hadn't seemed so shocking any more. With a sucking action he had drawn her tongue inside his mouth, titillating the tip of it with the tip of his, sending all sorts of wild sensations she had never known before flowing through her.
At the memory of it she found herself flushing; hoped no one would come up to her desk until the redness had gone from her cheeks.
She didn't know just what was going to happen between her and Doug but the prospect was exciting.
Doug seemed-well, rather serious. About her, that is. She wasn't quite sure just how she knew, but even in her complete inexperience with men the thing within her which was woman knew.
Like-oh, like when he had scribbled his phone number on a piece of paper and told her to tape it to the base of her phone. He said he wanted her to call him if an emergency ever arose-if she woke up at night sick or something. She had done so. Not that she'd ever phone him, of course. In the social structure from which Karen came girls just don't call boys for any reason whatever. Still, it was kind of a thrill to think about it. Most nights, just before going to sleep, she would read the number taped to the instrument and think: "Good night. Doug."
And now that was enough daydreaming. Time to get going on another script. She glanced at her watch; an hour until quitting time. She could skim one book and make up her mind if she wanted to go through it more thoroughly when she came in Monday morning.
As she picked it up, DeWilde appeared in the doorway and beckoned to her. The slight stab of uneasiness which every employees feels when the boss signals flickered in her but she shrugged it off. Obediently she rose, paused long enough to check her makeup and then trotted down the corridor toward his office.
He was seated behind his desk when she entered, shuffling stacks of papers and looking a little harried. There were two huge piles of galley proofs; sample pages printed from newly-set type which would have to be read and corrected for typographical errors before they could be locked up in the printing forms and the press run begun.
Karen left the door to his office open but he signalled to her to close it. She did. The pudgy face broke into a smile as he said:
"I don't know how you'll feel about this but I'm hoping you'll be pleased. It's a chance for you to make some extra money. I want you to read these galleys this weekend and correct them so that the-typesetters can get to work on them the first thing Monday."
Karen hesitated. "I did some proofreading in school, Mr. DeWilde, and I know the correction marks, but I've never done it professionally."
He brushed it aside with a wave. "It's not all that hard," he assured her. "Of course readers don't usually correct galley proofs but this time we're stuck. Two proofreaders are sick and production is waiting for this."
"I'm willing to try."
"I'll be there to help you. I'm going to take them home with me tonight and get started on them. Tomorrow morning you come out to my place on Long Island and complete the job."
It didn't sound right although she couldn't explain why.
"Couldn't I do it just as well at my place?"
He shook his head. "Not on your first time at proofing. I want them double-read. You go over them first and then I'll read them to pick up what you miss." Then, with what was probably intended to be a winning smile: "You understand, you'll be paid for this. Regular overtime; time-and-a-half of your usual daily rate."
That made it sound better. With an extra check she could clear up a couple of small bills. Or, maybe get a new blouse to wear with that pink skirt on her next date with Doug.
"How do I get out there?"
"Take the 9:14 tomorrow morning out of Long Island Railroad Station. Change trains at Jamaica onto the South Shore local and get off at Baldwin. That's the first stop after Rockville Center. I'll meet you at the station and drive you to my place in Baldwin Harbor. It's about forty-five minutes on the train and another five in the car.
"Here-he held out a ten dollar bill-"this will take care of your train and subway fare and leave some over for pocket cash. Your extra pay will be in your next check."
She took the bill, thanked him and left. On the way back to her desk she kept telling herself that she ought to be happy that it was a nice break, that she hadn't had anything planned for the weekend.
It did very little good. She was still up tight about the whole thing.
DeWilde was waiting for her at the station when her train pulled in. He was wearing light yellow wash slacks and deck shoes. A startlingly colorful Hawaiian print shirt was open at his throat. Somehow he looked more Californian than anything she had seen in the east. It provided a little nostalgia for her.
He gallantly assisted her into his car, then headed down Central Avenue toward the harbor, turning left when they got to the waterfront.
"My place is a little further around the cove," he explained. "I'm right on the Sound and have a boat dock on the water, but I like lots of privacy so when I built I also bought the property on each side of me.
Karen caught her breath when they came to the house. It was like something you'd read about in Better Homes & Gardens. An eight foot high, solid brick wall screened it from view of the road, giving only a glimpse of the house through high wrought iron gates. They swung open electrically as the car approached, closing behind it as DeWilde drove down the curving driveway and up to the Colonial front door. High, white colonnades supported the veranda around the second story: on each side the shimmering blue of Long Island Sound stretched away, a few sail boats dotting its azure surface.
"It's just utterly beautiful," Karen murmured.
"I'm very proud of my place," he replied with simple sincerity. "I'm happier here than I've ever been before in my life. Sometimes the ride into town on that Toonerville Trolley they call a railroad is a bit of a blister, but when I get home here again in the evening it's worth it."
The uneasiness flickered into life again. "Do you live here alone?"
It brought a sort of half-smile. "Well, I have lots of friends who stay with me from time to time, but right now I'm alone. A housekeeper comes in five days a week but I always batch it on Saturday and Sunday."
Karen had an urge to run but fought it down. Get to work. Start reading galleys. She was sure that if she just got to work and kept at it steadily all day it would soon go by and she'd be on her way home.
He led her into a study which faced the water. The sliding panels of a glass wall opened out onto the boat dock, where a large cabin cruiser was tied up.
"Like boats?" he asked, as he gestured toward it. "Maybe we'll go for a ride later if we get enough work done."
"Oh, I'll really have to go as soon as we're finished with the proofs," she replied quickly. "I have some things I want to do tonight."
"So have I, honey, so have I."
She didn't like his reply at all so she sat down and attacked the first stack of proofs. She flipped through a few of the pages, found no correction marks at all. Apparently he hadn't done any work on them the night before.
She picked up a pencil from the desk top and started to read, rapidly but carefully. She concentrated almost hypnotically upon her task, determined to be oblivious to DeWilde and the sound of his movements around the room. By the time she got to page ten she heard his steps recede. Even the thick carpet couldn't muffle the sound of his going.
She breathed more easily for a few minutes but tightened up again when she heard him return. From the comer of her eye she could see he was now dressed in bathing shorts, also a colorful Hawaiian print such as men wore back home. She simply had to glance at him. She noted expensive thong sandals on his feet. He wore nothing on the upper half of his body and Karen was revolted by the thick mass of black hair which curled from every portion of his chest and back. Its black swirls were relieved only by the white skin around his paps; otherwise, she thought with an hysterical inner laugh, he looked like an animated bear rug. One could skin this man and make a fur coat out of him, she reflected, and the idea of doing it pleased her.
She only flicked her eyes over him and was again engrossed in her reading. She heard the thong sandals scuff across the carpet until he was behind her and then, with a shock, felt herself being surrounded by those great, pudgy, hairy, bear-like arms.
"Please, Mr. DeWilde," was all she could gasp out before a hand was cupping itself over each of her breasts.
She didn't scream. Without even thinking about it she knew to do so would be useless. Instead she threw her body forward, trying to break free so that she could run. He seemed to be expecting this for as she moved he clenched his fingers into the soft flesh of her breasts, digging them in until she did scream-a shriek of pure pain.
An evil voice breathed into her ear: "Did I hurt you, honey? I'm sorry, but you shouldn't jump like that."
She tried to twist away from him but his strength was too great. She was horribly frightened-more terrified than she had ever been in her life. Her only thought was that he had gone mad and was going to kill her. So great was her innocence that the idea he might be lusting for her never entered her head.
As she hesitated for a fraction of a second, he slid one hand down to encircle her wrist, placed the other on her shoulder and twisted her around so that she faced him.
"Now, don't get excited, honey. We're going to have fun and you're going to enjoy every minute of it."
Again she tried to pull away but the movement put a strain on her wrist. The pain made her stop. She managed to gasp out:
"Please, Mr. Wilde-you're breaking my arm."
"No I'm not. I know how tightly to hold a girl. Now, relax and let's enjoy ourselves."
She tried to control her emotions; appear calm so that he'd let go of her. That would give her a chance to run. She ceased struggling but DeWilde kept his grip on her wrist; a grasp so tight that it shut off the circulation to her hand. She could feel her fingertips already beginning to tingle in pain. She remained motionless, hoping to lure him into releasing the pressure.
With his free hand, DeWilde gripped the waist band of his trunks and pulled them down below his hips, working them loose until they slid down to his ankles. Lifting each foot alternately he kicked them off. They sailed across the room and he stood before her naked except for the thong sandals on his feet. The pendulous, pudgy belly swung free, but below it bulged a fully inflamed penis; a huge, ugly, mottled man tool which projected straight out from beneath the shelf of his belly.
It was obscene, that turgid cock; vulgar in its sheer size and strength and rigidity. No man should have a cock like that. It ought to be attached to a horse or a bull. He had been circumcised and the missing flesh of the foreskin left the purple-blue glans even more prominent; even more utterly revealed as a great ugly cock head.
It would have been a little frightening even to an experienced woman but to Karen it was an unbelievably monstrous sight. She had read much about sex acts in recent weeks. Unavoidably she had thought about sex a little and wondered what it would be like when the time came for her first experience. However, nothing in her imagination had prepared her for the situation she was in now, or for the sight of that terrifying cock which confronted her.
This was the second when the realization came to her. This man wasn't a mad killer. He was going to -to do sex to her. So confused was her mind that the word "fuck" could not be formed mentally in spite of the many times she had read it recently. She was driven to the most abject reaches of terror by the idea that this man was going to try to place that awful thing within her body.
She threw herself backwards in another attempt to pull away from him. Her wrists didn't hurt so badly this time, since his numbing grip had brought with it a certain anesthesia. She got away to arm's length but DeWilde roughly pulled her back to him. With his free hand he grabbed the front of her dress, his fingers curling down inside the modestly veed neckline, grabbing dress, underslip and brassiere all in one handful.
He ripped at it and even the three layers of material were no match for the man's bull-like strength. The garments tore but their resistance pulled her down to her knees in front of him as the fabric gave way. He grabbed the edges of the rip and brutally stripped the ragged garments from her as one would shuck an ear of corn. As he leaned over her, Karen looked up and saw his great sagging balls swinging back and forth above her in their sack of flesh. On top of them stood that terrible tool, its cock-head visibly throbbing with lust for her.
It only took one fast swipe of his hairy arm to rip her flimsy underpanties from her thighs and then she lay before him on the carpet nude, blushing, terrified, frantically trying to cover her nakedness with her free arm and failing. The ripe, full, young breasts poured over her forearm; the silken peach of hair gleamed between her legs. She tried to roll over but only revealed her fine, young buttocks by so doing.
For the first time, DeWilde spoke. "For Christ's sake, don't be a God damned prick teaser with me, you little slut." He stopped speaking long enough to plant one brutal, stinging slap of his open hand across her face. The blow had such force behind it that it snapped her head to one side, producing almost as much pain in her wrenched neck muscles as it caused her cheek.
Then he went on: "No fucking broad is going to get me all hot and then walk out on it, you understand? You got it hard and by Christ you're going to make it soft again."
His words had no impact on her fear-numbed brain. She continued to struggle on the floor even though he was kneeling on her now, one paunchy leg doubled beneath him and his knee pushing its way into her soft belly.
The pressure forced the wind from her. Some consciousness of his words seeped through to her. She heard him grating through his clenched teeth at her:
"Now, there's two ways we can do this, baby. I can slap the shit out of you first and then fuck you, or you can quiet down and take the fucking without the beating. Which shall it be?"
She was incapable of making a decision. Terror, disgust, shame, sheer horror kept her from forming a conscious thought. She had to gasp to get air into her lungs because of his knee in her belly. She had to lie quietly to breathe at all. Taking her quietness for consent, he swiveled around until he was kneeling astride her supine body. His huge testicles dangled above her delicate chin. His swollen penis stuck out above her head.
Holding her down with his thighs, he twisted the fingers of both hands into her hair; pulled her head up to him, straining her neck muscles cruelly.
"Get it nice and wet for me, baby, to make it go in easier."
With that he thrust his hips forward, slamming the end of his cock against her clenched lips. In her fear she was hardly conscious of its pressure. Seeing her resistance, he gave the hair in his hands a vicious twist. As she opened her mouth to scream he crammed the end of his cock into it, ramming it so far down her throat that she gasped and choked.
"If you bite it, baby, I'll rip your hair out by the roots," he warned her. "Just suck it nicely and tickle it with your tongue."
He began a coital movement with his hips. "I'm fucking you in the mouth, baby, and oooh it's wonderful," he crooned, as he pumped his tool in and out of her straining mouth, her lips stretched to the limit to contain its enormousness. "God, honey, you're playing it like a flute," he groaned in his joy. "You're a natural born cock sucker."
Karen felt a sticky goo begin to leak from the red-eyed hole she had seen in the end of it. The warm stickiness of the liquid coated her tongue; trickled over it back toward her throat. She realized that this was man juice coming put of him and into her. She was afraid she was going to be sick and throw up; knew instinctively that if she did it would infuriate DeWilde and make him even more cruel. With an effort of will she forced herself to let the nauseating juice flow down her throat.
"That's enough of that," he said in a few minutes, regretfully. "Any more and you'll make me come." He lifted himself from her body and lay on the floor beside her, giving her a playful slap on her thigh which was hard enough to leave the mark of his hand behind. "Spread 'em wide, baby, and I'll give you some cock that you'll never forget."
Karen neither obeyed nor disobeyed his order. She was so far into shock that she was incapable of responding in any manner. Dumbly, with eyes of a frightened animal, she looked up at him as he rolled onto her body. His great, gross weight mashed her flat beneath him. His flabby chest pressed down upon her high, firm young breasts, spreading them out into distended blobs toward her armpits.
He thrust his knees between her thighs, spreading her legs. He cupped his knees behind hers and pulled his legs upward, spread-eagling her beneath him. He slid an experienced hand between their bodies, grabbed his penis with it and directed the head of it to her virginal opening. He found the lips of her vagina with the tip of his forefinger, brushed them back and put the head of his cock against her hole, pushing it down to the rear of her slit where he knew the entrance to her body would be. He gave a tentative lift of his hips to force the head of his cock into her, past the tightly constricted lips which shielded her opening. The saliva from Karen's no-longer-virginal mouth had lubricated the first few inches of DeWilde's penis and this, plus his own seminal seepage, permitted the huge, oval-shaped head of it to slide inside her up to the ridge at the base. Even this slight penetration distended her delicate flesh horribly; sent a surge of pain roaring through her delicate parts which brought her to full consciousness in a hurry. She screamed; a penetrating shriek torn from her tortured body.
The sound excited DeWilde. He began to wriggle his hips back and forth, putting pressure on her opening. It took him half a dozen strokes to force another inch of cock inside her, the girl continuing to scream all the while. Another thrust, and DeWilde felt his cock head enter the beginning of her vaginal passage. He pushed fiercely, ramming the knob in further; felt the tight flesh around it stretch, distend, and begin to throb against him in agony.
Karen was screaming now as if her tortured organ was being ripped out of her by the metal instrument of a Spanish Inquisitor. Her shrieks echoed through the huge room.
DeWilde stopped his thrusting to gasp for breath. While doing so he fumbled around for the remnants of her clothing which lay beneath them. He found a portion of her dress, pulled it out and stuffed a wad of it into her open, screaming mouth.
"You're giving me a headache with that noise, baby," he grunted.
He wriggled his hips experimentally. He gave another hard but short thrust with his prick; felt the end of it come up against solid resistance from uninvaded territory.
"Jesus Christ, honey, that's the tightest hole I've ever been into in my life. Good thing I've got the granddaddy of all hard-ons or I'd never make it."
He continued his prodding of her, holding the cloth into her mouth with one hand but feeling her screams still vibrating against the fabric. He withdrew his cock until just the head of it was still inside her, then skillfully rubbed it in and out, in and out, to work her juices into his flesh. Feeling that it was slicker now, he returned to the attack. He pressed it in to the point where he had been before, increased his drive and conquered another fraction of an inch of the tight passage.
Again he retreated, satisfying himself with expanding the area he had already achieved. He had fully half of his cock inside her now, but that half was enough to fill her completely.
In her excruciating pain, Karen could feel every millimeter of the hateful organ's progress. First the bloated head had slid into her and her vaginal lips had been stretched around the shaft. Then the horrible snake-like thing had gone in further and she had felt her inner passage being stretched to receive it. Now the fierce cock head was up into her belly. The lips of her vagina which had been stretched at the beginning were now drawn tight until, in her pain, they were like a rubber band drawn to the breaking point. She could feel them cutting into the meat of the awful shaft which probed her.
Then he was ramming it into her again and now she felt a sharp, stabbing, new pain. The monstrous thing had been shoved clear into her until it was encountering her rectum; jabbing forcefully against the thin wall of membrane which separated her uterus from her bowels. He was going to kill her! He was going to stab her to death from the inside!
DeWilde rested for a few seconds, forced himself to relax, and found his second wind. Redoubling his efforts, he thrust and withdrew, stretching the passage to fit his own hugeness, banging up against a solid backstop on his inward movement, feeling the tightness of her cunt wrapped around his cock on the backstroke, like encircling, tightly clenched fingers.
Karen's constant screaming had given way now to hoarse moans of exhaustion. Her vocal cords were frayed, as tortured as the membranes of her cunt, but her agony still required vocal relief. To De Wilde, his half-entry of her, with half of his cock still exposed to the air, was the utmost in provocation. He became like an aroused bull.
"Stretch your legs wide, you miserable slut," he raged at her. "Spread that cunt and let me in or I'll kill you."
Karen was past hearing or responding to commands. She had no idea what he meant; had no thought of anything. All she knew was the pain of that ugly thing she had seen which was now hidden in her; which filled her full; which was ramming against her rectum and which was producing more torture than she knew a human could stand.
She was flowing woman juices now in a steady stream. The liquid drained down the portion of his cock which was still exposed, exciting him like a bitch dog in heat arouses a stud. With a bellow like the animal he was, DeWilde reached both hands down to slide them back of her knees. Then, with a roar, he pulled her legs upward, forcing them to bend back upon themselves until he could slip her legs over his shoulders. He reached forward, grasping her shoulders with his hands, pulled her body toward him. Then he raised his body on his knees and, with another roar, thrust himself into her now-distended opening.
In this position he had Karen rocked up onto the small of her back, the only portion of her body touching the floor. The rest of her was bent almost into a ball, her legs spread the full width of his shoulders, her thighs pulled far apart by his barrel chest and belly forced between. It exposed her utterly; distended her to the fullest, while at the same time uncovering the innermost recesses of her body to the exploration of his throbbing cock.
Raised on his knees he could use the full weight of his body to hammer his cock-hard ram into her. He did. He rested his pudgy, heavy frame on the end of his cock; literally leaned on it. The flaring head of it sunk down into her agonized flesh. DeWilde felt it come up against the solid flesh at the end of her passage. He lay there with his weight resting on it. The pressure mounted against her tender inner flesh and suddenly, something gave way. Like a tent stake driven into soft earth, the remaining half of his monstrous shaft plunged into her in one movement.
Karen's torn flesh gushed blood and the liquid added to his penetration. He was bottomed out in her now, ever bit of his cock solidly inside her. He began to thrust and retrieve, thrust and retrieve, arousing himself to climax, merely using her tight cunt to masturbate himself to ejaculation. At every stroke his testicles banged up solidly against her rectum, itself so distended by the stretching of her vagina above it that it seemed as if it, too, must be torn.
DeWilde was in ecstasy now. Throwing his weight down upon her upturned buttocks at every stroke, he began to murmur aloud:
"Oh God baby, what a fuck. I got it up into your womb, baby, and I'm gonna squirt my juice right into your baby bucket and make it come out of your asshole. Jesus, baby, what a fuck. I never felt a cunt like yours in all my life. Jesus, baby, I think you invented fucking. Aieeeeh-God above, I got it up into your belly."
The gagging cloth had fallen from her mouth by now but her vocal cords, worn from much screaming, could no longer produce the piercing sounds which had shaken the room. She still screamed, but it came out a hoarse, rasping whimper. Every inch of her body was in pain.
When a human body is subjected to torture for a certain time it either goes into shock or creates for itself a certain ability to exist with the pain. For Karen, her body took the latter course. She was certain she was going to die but was now fully conscious, comprehending; heard every word which DeWilde murmured in his ecstasy. She could feel every individual movement and throb which he made. When his last, sudden, full penetration of her had taken place, she felt the knob slide up into her, felt her inner flesh tear, felt the heat of her own blood as it gushed out to surround his cock.
She felt the passage of that knob which she could now clearly visualize run into her all the way, to bang up against her spine; could see in her mind's eye how her own vagina must look, stretched so tightly around the ugly shaft. She could visualize how the cervix of her womb must have been ripped open when the knob had forced its way in.
On every stroke she felt two big fat things ramming against her and she knew it was those big blue balls she had seen, hanging in a wrinkled, hairy sack of flesh, which were slamming up against her rectum. The sensitive little thing at the top of her vagina with which she had played in the bathtub while thinking of Doug was being battered by some bone in this man's body every time he completed one of his agonizing strokes into her, and he must have rammed her a hundred such strokes by now, maybe more. The curly, black hair which grew like a forest around the foul cock, was rubbing against her little thing, burning and irritating it.
Now that Karen knew she was going to die, and that she was probably bleeding to death already, she hoped it would come quickly and bring an end to the pain. If she were lucky she might faint and never know when the end really came. She tried to will herself to die but the thrusting kept on and she lived and the big purple knob kept up its probing of her while the shaft kept her spread out and the big blue balls kept banging her behind.
DeWilde was in full control now; had her clasped tightly to him, rocking with his every movement, knowingly compressing her flesh in her upturned position so that the deepest possible penetration was his. His ecstasy had been succeeded by a coldly analytical delight. He was savouring each sensation, as a wine expert enjoys tiny sips of a good vintage. At length, almost regretfully, he said to her:
"I'm going to juice you now, baby. My cock's getting sore. That sweet little cunt of yours is so tight you've rubbed all the skin off of me." He chuckled. "And when I squirt you, you'll never forget it, because you've pumped up all the come I've got in me."
Instead of speeding, he slowed his pace to a gentle, rubbing motion which almost thoughtfully moved his cock in and out of her. One long, slow stroke into her; a slow, methodical withdrawal which pulled all of it out except the head which he kept stuck into her, the while he felt the cool air of the room against his soaking wet shaft, then back into her again, all the way to the uttermost depth which to her cunt felt like a tight buttonhole around the base of the head of his cock, then back into her again like a porpoise plunging down to the depths.
All the while he chattered to himself in his happiness:
"God sweetie, what a fuck. You could make a million with that little hole. Oh God, baby, it's starting now. The juice is coming into my balls. It's coming up my cock-oh Christ, baby, there it is- oh AIEEEEEEEEEEEEH!"
He rammed himself tightly into her, compressed her flesh so that their loins were welded into one, probed her with his tool until he too felt real pain from the compression of his flesh against the bones of her spine, and exploded into a shuddering orgasm. It was not just one ejaculation, this come of his. He was so deeply aroused by her tightness, by the great length of time which he had spent fucking her after fully entering her, that his prostate was determined to empty itself as a reward.
When his cock began to throb, the ugly purple head of it began to distend and relax, then distend again, meanwhile pumping semen into her in successive gouts. He squirted and squirted, as if putting out a fire, and his man juice flowed into her every cavity.
He felt almost frightened as he felt himself discharging into her so fully. He had never had a come like this, he realized, in spite of the uncounted numbers of women he had laid. His huge tool filled her so completely, her cunt was stretched so tightly around him, that there wasn't any place for his come to go. His first squirt filled the tiny part of her womb which was not full of his cock; his second squirt overflowed into her uterus and then ran back down and out of her body. He continued to pump his jizz into her and he could feel every squirt twice-once when it shot up the inside of his cock and out of her, the second time when it flowed back again on the outside of his cock between his body and hers.
He could feel the stickiness of his own come now as it emerged from her cunt and trickled out from between her vagina's lips, soaking his balls, then trickling off to run down the crack of her asshole. He shot her again, felt his juice come out to soak his balls some more and had an hysterical desire to laugh. Jesus, he thought, I've had many a man tell me to go fuck myself but I never thought I'd really do it.
For Karen, DeWilde's climax provided a new frontier in agonizing pain. She had thought she was to die before this; had thought she had already experienced the utmost in pain the body can endure. Her agony had produced its own anesthesia and she had been able to live with it. She had only vaguely understood what he meant when he said he was going to "come." She knew it meant something would come out of the nasty little red eye she had seen in the end of that ugly thing, and that this was what men always wanted to do to women, and in the books that was always the end of the thing they were doing.
But nothing had prepared her for the sudden feeling of something exploding inside of her. She felt what she knew was the head of the cock, pressed tightly up against the end of her spine, pushing back against the inside of her rectum, swell and grow until it felt like a football inside of her. It stretched her insides until she knew they were hopelessly torn, and this great throbbing thing moved in and out and around inside her, and then the scalding hot fluid began to gush.
It was the same sticky, hot stuff he had leaked into her mouth earlier, she realized, and which she had forced herself to swallow so as not to infuriate him. Now he was shooting some more of that awful stuff right into her body, where she could never get it out again. Now she felt the heat and the creaminess of it squirting into her womb. Now he was shooting some more of it and it was flowing back down out of her cavity and running down the outside of her.
She felt him shoot her again and this load ran back out quickly. She felt it course its way down between her thighs, trickling into the opening of her upturned rectum, and she thought my God, it's going to get into that opening too. He's killing me and shooting me all over with that stuff.
Above it all was the pain; her real, utter climax of pain, which all the previous pain had merely been building up to. With every squirt of his juice DeWilde's shaft expanded, the head of his cock throbbed, and every throb sent exquisite agony through every nerve in her body. Every time his cock head throbbed the agony echoed through Karen, soaring up into her head with dizzying pain. One final, hoarse rasp of a scream bubbled up from her tortured throat, and the blessed relief of unconsciousness came over her.
DeWilde felt her body go limp beneath him but thought she was merely relaxing after an orgasm of her own. He lay on top of her, enjoying the feeling of his cock getting soft; reveling in the sensation of his prick soaking in a combination of his juices and hers.
"Soak it until its nice and soft, baby; that's what a woman has a cunt for," was what he murmured down at the unconscious girl beneath him.
He lay there, relaxing and enjoying, finally becoming a little surprised that she wasn't asking him to get off; telling him how heavy he was, as women usually did after climaxing with him. He touched her cheek. He realized she had passed out. He lifted himself from her, picked her up in his arms and carried her to a bedroom.
As he dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, he stared down at her for a second, then said aloud:
"Baby, you're the best fuck I ever had. And to think I've had you around the office all this time and let you hold out on me."