Chapter 2
It took the unsympathetic judge exactly three minutes to dispose of Carl Harper's case the next morning. Carl was bound over for trial on misdemeanor counts of assaulting a police officer, driving under the influence, and destruction of property.
Bail was set at five-thousand dollars.
Lainie got to see her husband for fifteen minutes later that morning. The visiting room of the County Jail was a bleak place, painted a mustard brown, the floors littered with cigarette butts and other debris. Separated from Carl by a wire grill, the tearful young wife cried through most of their short visit.
"You've got to raise the money, baby," Carl pleaded with her, his head throbbing painfully from the beers he had drunk the night before, his face bruised and discolored from the accident. "Please, honey, call your folks ... they'll give you the dough!"
Of all the things in the world that Lainie would do, that wasn't one of them. The embarrassment and groveling she would have to do would be entirely too much for her to take, even if it meant Carl sitting in jail for several weeks. No, she would have to find some other way.
She stopped at a bail bondsman's office near the jail, shocked when the leering man told her that she would have to raise five hundred dollars for him to pick up the rest of the bond; shocked even more when he offered her fifty dollars for a quick blow-job in the back room of his sleazy office.
The situation seemed hopeless to her. There was no way she could raise that much money. Her total fortune consisted of eight dollars and twelve cents, the remains of the ten-dollar bill she had stashed. Trying to raise the money from Carl's friends wasn't worth the effort. All of them were unemployed or working at menial jobs.
The teary-eyed young blonde wife rode the bus back to the apartment, picking up a newspaper at the drugstore, scanning the "help-wanted" ads while she rode. The ads depressed her even more. There were the usual ones for clerical help and waitresses, but Lainie was skilled in neither of these occupations.
She cursed herself for not finishing high school. She had dropped out at seventeen; an indifferent student who preferred to spend her days haunting the museums and art galleries of Chicago. Her parents hadn't objected, since Lainie hadn't been doing well at any rate, thinking that she would marry and settle down soon and start raising grandchildren for them.
They were bitterly disappointed when she met young Carl Harper and announced she was marrying the recently discharged Vietnam veteran. Lainie had seen things in Carl that weren't really there. Her parents hated him on sight, telling the love-struck girl that she could expect nothing from them if she took up with such a "good-for-nothing." True to their word, they hadn't even attended her brief and unromatic marriage ceremony at the city clerk's office in downtown Chicago. Nor had they written or telephoned since Lainie and Carl had moved to down state Illinois.
She and Carl had been together almost five years now - five years of menial work for him and increasing unhappiness for her. He fancied himself a mechanic, but that was far from the truth. And his temper made it impossible to get along with bosses or co-workers. Worse yet, he refused vehemently to let his beautiful young wife get a job or to go back to school.
"You just want to show me how much better than me you are," he complained when she broached the subject. "Shit, baby, I ain't letting anyone say I can't support my wife!"
Arguments had been futile. Carl was terribly sensitive about his lack of education, believing that Lainie would probably run off with the first really intelligent man she met at work or at school. As a consequence, they had nothing - no savings, no possessions, no prospects!
Her mind suddenly realized that she had been staring at the same small advertisement for several minutes. Shaking her head to clear it of the depressing thoughts she had been thinking, she gave her full attention to the ad:
MODELS WANTED
Female, no experience needed
Must be young and attractive.
Good pay, good hours.
APEX MODELING AGENCY.
Suddenly she was full of hope again. Hadn't everyone always told her she should have been a model? And didn't the magazines report that models made a fantastic salary? She couldn't believe her luck. In a few days she could earn enough money for Carl's bail. She got off at the next stop and found a telephone. A bored woman at the agency told her to come in for an interview and to be sure and bring her portfolio. When Lainie told the woman she didn't know what a portfolio was, the woman laughed and told her to come in anyway.
Grabbing another bus, clutching the piece of paper on which she'd written down the address, Lainie rode back toward downtown. Twenty minutes later she was standing in front of the door to the Apex Modeling Agency, shivering with anxiety, certain that she was going to be the most unattractive female who'd ever applied there for a job. The building was old and not well cared for, tenanted mostly by import-export agencies and publishers.
Getting up her nerve, she knocked discreetly on the door and then pushed it open. The offices of the Apex Agency were not at all impressive. The small anteroom contained a tiny receptionist's desk, three uncomfortable chairs, a coffee table and walls that were covered with photographs of smiling, almost-naked models.
Embarrassed at her own stupidity in thinking she could really be a model, Lainie was about to turn and hurry out of the office when the inner door opened and an unsmiling, over-dressed, elderly woman confronted her. The woman's tortuously teased pink hair looked as if it had been varnished, and her obscenely short mini-skirt and tight blouse would have been more appropriate on a female at least forty years younger.
"You here about the job?" the woman asked, opening her mouth and displaying a set of cheap false teeth.
"No-n-no," Lainie stammered. "I mean yes! I telephoned about a half-hour ago."
"You're in luck, girlie," the woman replied, her rheumy eyes sweeping up and down Lainie's magnificent body. "Gus just came in and he can see you right away. He's been over in Cincinnati and Covington lining up jobs for the girls." Her strange eyes seemed to be undressing Lainie, and the young girl blushed prettily. "You wait here, I'll tell 'em he's got an applicant."
The woman disappeared back into the inner office while Lainie waited, torn between the desire to turn and run, and the desperate need for the job. In a few minutes the woman opened the door and indicated that Lainie should enter.
"Hey, you're a real looker, ain't you!" a swarthy-complexioned, heavy-set man said loudly, jumping up from behind his desk and coming forward, his hand outstretched. "I'm Gus Gimbel. Glad to meet you, kid."
There was nothing subtle about Gus Gimbel. His suit looked as if it had come off a rack at the local Salvation Army store, the furnishings of his office not much better. Lainie could see that he was about forty-five, with bad teeth, oily hair, and the scent of unwashed underwear about him. His hand enveloped hers, massaging her fingers lewdly while his gaze gripped hers.
Still holding her hand, Gus Gimbel inspected her closely, starting at the silky blonde hair, running up and down her melon-like breasts, then feasting on her long, perfectly shaped legs.
"Jesus, you ever been a showgirl in Vegas?" he asked finally, reluctantly giving up her hand. "I ain't seen nothing like that body of yours since I was in Vegas last month! Hey, girlie, you and me are going to get along just fine!"
The nervous young wife was still smiling happily at the compliment he had paid her when Gus suddenly grabbed her hand again and pulled her toward a sagging couch along one wall of the office.
"Come on, kiddo, let's sit down and get acquainted, huh?" he said, sitting so close that their knees were pressed together. "Hey, how about a drink? No? Well I don't think I want one either. I was shooting craps and boozing it up at a place in Covington last night. Jeeze, I lost a bundle! And you wouldn't believe the hangover I got!"
He seemed suddenly to notice the wedding ring on her hand.
"Hey, are you married?"
Lainie nodded, then told Gus Gimbel about Carl being in jail and her immediate need for money. He seemed a little put off by the news, but finally shrugged.
"Okay, that's your business, kiddo. I just don't want no jealous husbands bugging me. You need five hundred for the bail, huh? Well, I think a looker like you ought to be able to make that much in a week. How does that sound?"
"Gosh, Mr. Gimbel," Lainie said happily, breathing a sigh of relief, "that would certainly solve my problems immediately. Could I go right to work?"
"Shit, yes!" he said expansively, patting her knee with one meaty hand. "And you don't have to worry about me playing any games with you ... no matter how gorgeous you are! Sadie out there" ... he pointed to the outer office, "... she's my old lady. She set me up in this business. You ever near of her? Sadie Houseman?"
"N-no, I don't think so," Lainie replied, thinking about the obvious differences in their ages. Sadie was at least twenty years older than Gus Gimbel.
"That's funny," he said. "Sadie had a place up in Calumet City for years. Best damned place in the midwest ... really prime stuff, know what I mean? Anyway, me and Sadie got married a couple of years back and she put up the money for the Agency. But she don't go for me playing around, you understand? At least not here. I get my jollies in Vegas or Jersey. Besides, Sadie is one real woman! She may not look it now, of course, but she still knows how to use the old equipment!"
"About the job?" Lainie prompted, a little confused now.
"Oh, yeh," he replied. "Okay, here's the deal. We work on a sixty-forty basis ... I get sixty percent and pay all the bills, including any busts. I change the girls around every two weeks ... first Louisville, then Covington, then Cincinnati. You work out of motels ... really fancy dumps. The only thing I require is no heavy boozing, no drugs of any kind, and no sex with the other girls on my time. You got any problems with those rules?"
Lainie was beginning to blush furiously. She was naive, but not that naive! Very carefully she picked up his hand from her knee and dropped it back in his lap. Then, standing up, she looked down at him with anger in her eyes.
"Just what kind of work is this?" she asked quietly, cursing herself for being so stupid.
"Huh?" Gus asked, genuinely puzzled. "You mean you don't know? Shit, honey, I run the best stable of hustlers in the tri-state area! Hey, you're no goddamned hooker, are you? Jesus H. Christ! I thought Sadie told you!"
"And you're offering me a job as a ... a ... a ... prostitute?" Lainie was almost hysterical now. Her hands were trembling violently, her face contorted with incredulity.
"Hey, kiddo, no hard feelings, huh?" Gus said nervously. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a roll of bills, peeling off two twenties. When he got to his feet he stuffed the bills into her hand. "Here, take this, honey. Just forget you ever been here or that we even talked, huh? Go on, take it! Sadie!" he suddenly screamed at the top of his voice. "For chrissakes get in here!"
The door to the outer office opened just as Lainie reached it, tears already spilling down over her cheeks. The startled Sadie stood aside to let Lainie pass, watching the younger woman race across the office and out the front door.
"You stupid cunt!" Gus Gimbel screamed at his wife. "You goddamned stupid cunt."
Lainie walked back to her apartment from downtown, her eyes still full of bitter tears, her body still shaking with fury. It seemed incredible that the interview with Gus Gimbel could really have taken place, that the man really thought she was a whore! If it hadn't been for the two twenties clutched tightly in her fingers, Lainie would have sworn she had been having a delusion.
For a moment she was tempted to throw the money away, but she reconsidered, remembering the state of her finances. The forty dollars represented a temporary respite for her, a means of eating for another week or so, perhaps even the means of getting a job, since there was bus fare and lunches to be considered. No, she ordered herself, keep the money. Sometime in the future, when she was back on her feet, she could send the money back to the disgusting pimp and his wife, but for now she would use it willingly.
She locked the door to her small apartment behind her, then went into the bedroom and stripped off her clothing and took a long bath. Everything seemed more depressing than ever now, with no way out. If she did find a job, it would be at a low wage, barely enough for her to exist on, let alone raising five hundred for Carl's bail. She considered calling her parents and asking for the money, then rejected that avenue of escape. Things would have to get a great deal worse before she would do that!
After an hour or so in the tub she found herself ravenously hungry. She dried herself, slipped on a housecoat, and went silently into the kitchen to heat up the remains of last night's tuna casserole. When she had eaten, she moved about the small apartment like a zombie, completely depressed, full of frustration, hating the whole world. She knew she would have to fill the lonely hours somehow, to put her mind to work on finding a solution to her problems. Tomorrow, first thing, she would go out and get the morning papers and pick out the most promising want ads. She could get a job, she told herself sternly, she had to get a job!
Lainie idly switched on the television without really seeing the program that came on, then picked up a magazine and leafed through the pages and tried to concentrate on a story.
It was no use, she couldn't concern herself with the glossy pages full of ads for expensive dresses and furniture. Maybe a cup of coffee, she thought to herself, going into the kitchen and putting on the water. When it was done she carried the steaming cup back into the living room and stood by the front window. Across the courtyard she could see lights on in the apartment of Hank Groggins, the apartment manager. The courtyard was really only a walkway about fifteen feet across, close enough for her to be able to see into the Groggins apartment, and more importantly at this moment, for the middle-aged man to be able to see into hers!
Lainie had no idea that he was watching her now as she sipped her coffee and walked slowly back and forth in her front room. And she wasn't aware that the light behind her caught the thinness of the sheer material of her nightgown, and that her voluptuous young body was sensuously outlined against the swaying nylon folds.
The taut, nervous muscles of her body seemed to ripple excitingly as she walked back and forth, her mind racing with plans of getting a job the next day.
"Hot damn!" Hank Groggins muttered as he lewdly watched Lainie. This wasn't the first time he had surreptitiously ogled the beautiful tenant, and once he had even accidentally bumped into her in the hallway, almost out of desire for the feel of her soft young body. Tonight he was getting an exciting view of her full, firm curves as she paraded around the apartment. It was almost as if she were exposing herself this way just for him. He could feel his cock beginning to bulge, fully erect against the zipper of his trousers, his breathing now heavy with lust.
All afternoon he had been planning his confrontation with the luscious young wife. Last night he had been awakened by the policeman and told the story of Carl Harper's arrest. That alone was almost enough to drive him to Lainie's apartment to try his luck with the girl. But, even luckier, the rent check had been returned in today's mail - the check that Carl had given him just three days before - the one that was now marked insufficient funds! It seemed unlikely to Hank Groggins that, with Carl in jail, Lainie would be able to come up with the money. He had often exchanged rent for cunt, but never with anyone as gorgeous and sexy as Lainie Harper.
He put the check in his shirt pocket, then went back to the window. Lainie was slumped carelessly in a chair in front of the TV, and her nightgown rode up further on her legs, revealing the soft, white flesh of her thighs. She swung her legs over the arm of the chair and settled back into a more comfortable position - one that was even more revealing to Hank Groggins. Her legs were long and slim, exquisitely formed with just enough plumpness in the thighs to give her hips a full, round curve. And her breasts jutted out against the flimsy nylon of her nightgown like twin peaks, proud and firm, her nipples taut from the soft, constant contact of the material.
Lainie was restless and kept changing her angle in the chair, giving Hank Groggins a better view of her sensual curves as she moved and wiggled in an effort to get comfortable. His eyes were fixed on the full white mounds of her breasts as she moved and turned, causing them to quiver freely as though they were not really attached to her body. He desperately wanted to feel the weight of her swollen breasts in his hands, to crush them unmercifully and then suck hungrily on the swollen nipples. He was getting more and more excited, his hand falling to his crotch and rubbing vigorously at the protruding bulge beneath the material. His prick was stiff and throbbing, jerking involuntarily, hot and demanding now. And, as he continued to watch the desire-increasing display of her succulent body, he was almost convinced that she had sent him silent little signals with her eyes and body-that she wanted him to come over and satisfy her pussy!
He patted the bad check in his pocket, moving back away from the window and trying to compose himself. He knew that she wouldn't let him into her apartment if she noticed the hard male rod jutting out from his trousers, so he put on a long sweater to cover the swollen bulge. Then, his mind reeling with erotic fantasies, he went downstairs, crossed the courtyard, and slowly walked up the stairway to her door and rang her bell.
W-w-who is it?" Lainie's nervous voice called out from the other side of the door.
"It's Mr. Groggins ... Hank Groggins," he answered quickly.
When she opened the door a moment later he stepped quickly into the apartment, not waiting for an invitation, his eyes running up and down over every inch of her body as if trying to imagine the naked flesh beneath the sheer robe which she now clutched tightly around her.
"What is it?" she asked, acutely aware of the way he was lewdly staring at her.
"A little matter of a bad check your old man gave me for the rent," Hank said in a hoarse, lust-charge voice, reaching into his pocket and handing her the check.
Lainie took it nervously, her hands trembling as she read the rubber-stamped notation on the back. Suddenly she wanted to cry again. It was obvious to her that Carl had used the remaining money in their checking account for drinking and carousing instead of paying the rent. She was shocked - shocked and dismayed.
"It's some sort of mistake," she lied, hating her husband for subjecting her to this latest indignity and embarrassment. "The bank's made some sort of mistake."
Hank retrieved the check and put it back into his shirt pocket before answering. "No, it ain't no mistake," he said finally. "I telephoned them after I got this back in the mail. Your old man closed out the account last week. The guy at the bank said they'd received three other bum checks he'd written since then. You know what that is, Mrs. Harper? It's a felony in this state, that's what!"
"No! They're lying!" Lainie cried out, knowing in her heart that Carl had let her down again. Oh God! She thought bitterly, it isn't fair!
"Yeh, well I need the money, Mrs. Harper," Hank went on, his voice cold, his eyes calculating, his prick achingly pulsating under his trousers. "Somebody's got to come up with the hundred and forty bucks! Where's your old man?"
"He's, uh, he's ... he's away on a business trip," Lainie stammered, overwhelmed with depression now.
"Oh, yeh? Well, I happen to know that he's sitting down at the County Jail! Apparently you couldn't even raise money for his bail, honey. He'll never get out when I go to the prosecutor with this bad check!"
"No, you wouldn't!" Lainie pleaded. "You couldn't!"
"Couldn't I?" he asked, sitting down arrogantly on the couch and looking up at her with lust written all over his ugly face. "Well, unless we can come to some arrangement about paying off this bad check, that's exactly what I'll do!"
"What kind of arrangement?" she asked, a cold shiver suddenly running up and down her spine.
"Let's have a drink and talk about it," he said smugly, patting the seat next to him on the couch. His expression changed to one of sympathy for her. "Hey, let's be friends, huh? I don't want to cause no trouble for you, Mrs. Harper. Shit, I know how tough it is for a girl to be in a spot like this. It ain't the first time it's happened to one of my tenants, believe me. And we usually managed to work something out ... something that made us both happy!"
The implication in his voice was clear. She knew exactly what the repulsive man had in mind and, although she found the idea completely horrifying and loathe some, she wasn't sure what alternative she had. Maybe she could talk him out of it, she thought irrationally, maybe if I can string him along until I get a job I won't have to let his filthy hands paw me. She wanted to scream at the awful injustice of her situation, but she knew it wouldn't do any good. Somehow she had to keep him from going to the prosecutor about the bad check - to buy a little time for her to think.
"How about that drink?" he promoted, enjoying the obvious confusion on her lovely face.
"I-I don't have anything except some cheap wine," she muttered, trying to avoid his insinuating eyes. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was to sit here and drink wine with Hank Groggins, but what choice did she have?"
"Hey, that'll be just fine," he laughed triumphantly. "You just sit still, I'll go get it. It's in the kitchen, huh?"
He scurried, weasel-like, across the room and into the small kitchen. In a few moments he was back with the half-gallon jug and two tumblers. He poured out two drinks, handing her one, keeping the other.
"Here's to us," he said, raising his glass and touching hers. "I want us to be real good friends." His voice had an ugly, lecherous tone that made her want to throw up. But she took a sip of the wine and settled back nervously on the couch.
"Look, honey, let's be practical," he continued. "You and your old man are in a heap of trouble the way I see it. You owe me money, your old man's in serious trouble and in jail and then there's the little matter of the bum check he passed me. Now the way I see it, I got something coming to me ... for my trouble, right?"
"I'll pay you," Lainie pleaded piteously, "I'll pay you every cent!"
"Sure you will," he said sarcastically, letting his eyes move down to state at her legs which were revealed to a spot just above the knee. "But maybe you wouldn't have to do that. Maybe we could figure out a way to write off this month's rent and save me a trip to the prosecutor's office. How would that be?"
She glanced up and caught him looking down at her legs, and she quickly tried to cover herself. His hand caught her wrist.
"Jesus, you've got great legs, honey," he wheezed.
Suddenly she knew with a dreadful clarity that she could save herself and Carl a great deal of trouble. All she had to do was to let the horny building manager get a free look at her, maybe even to let him paw her, and then she could relax for a few more days without worrying about new charges against Carl.
Still, what he was asking was wrong, terribly wrong. He was treating her like a slut - arrogantly bargaining for her body, making her feel like a whore! She wanted to scream out that she wasn't like that at all - that she was fine and decent, that she had never cheated on her husband since their marriage.
She put her glass on the table and, as she leaned forward, Hank Groggins had a full view of her soft breasts as they pushed the thin material of her nightgown away from her body. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the luscious white mounds pointing proudly upward.
"Look, Mrs. Harper," Hank said nervously, clearing his throat, his hard cock pulsating wildly now with lust, "why don't you let me be your friend, huh? I mean, a gal like you needs somebody to look after her ... what with your old man in jail and all. Here, have another drink."
She didn't want any more of the wine, but she didn't protest when he poured her another tumbler full and shoved it into her trembling hands. The wine went down smoothly, and she was amazed to feel herself relaxing. Maybe he was just trying to be helpful, she thought charitably,
"I don't know what I'm going to do," she murmured in an emotion-choked voice. "It seems like one huge nightmare. I don't know where to go to find a job, or how to raise the money for Carl's bail, or anything ..."
Her thoughts were jumbled and she wasn't sure whether it was because of the wine or because events were happening so fast she couldn't help but be confused.
"Hey, don't worry, we'll work it out," he wheezed, his face a mask of obscene lust. "Hank Groggins is your friend, little lady, you just remember that!"
She relaxed against the back of the couch, causing her robe to fall open, leaving a wide gap, revealing the soft, white curve of her knees and thighs, aware that he was staring at every inch of her flesh, but unable to think straight. Let him get his kicks, she thought bitterly, then maybe he'll leave me alone. Her face was burning with embarrassment and shame at letting a man besides her husband see her so vulnerable, but she knew how precarious her position was.
He reached down and patted her knee with his hand, and the touch made her skin crawl, but she did nothing to stop him.
"Yeh, a pretty little thing like you probably gets pretty lonely without a man around. I know how you sexy broads are, believe. I'll be glad to help you out."
Help me out! She thought, almost laughing hysterically at the obscene words. He was making her sound like a bitch in heat. He let his hand rest on her knee and thigh, his fingers softly kneading the supple flesh beneath them. His breathing was coming faster and faster as he leaned over for a closer look at her creamy flesh. She glanced up, blushing furiously as their eyes met.
"No, please ..." she stammered, trying to push his hand away, desperately trying to pull her robe together with the other hand. But his hands held her tightly. "Please, Mr. Groggins, I'm a married woman ... don't ... don't ..."
In the depths of the alcohol-dimmed mind she was trying to tell herself that he only wanted a quick feel of her luscious flesh, that to fight him now would only make things worse for her and Carl. His fingers were moving slowly up over her soft, smooth thighs, increasing the pressure with every inch until they closed around the naked inner thing. She gasped, trying to force his hand down further, but he held on as if for dear life itself, spittle oozing obscenely out of the corners of his mouth.
Oh God! she thought to herself, what am I going to do? I can't let this happen! I can't let this dirty old man do this to me! Her mind was racing with ways to stop him, but her young body was helpless, cruelly trapped by his strong, unyielding grasp.
"Please, you've got to go now," she begged, imploring him to stop, but he just stared at her, his eyes clouded with lust, his breathing even faster now.
"Just take it easy, honey," he said, his voice thick with desire. "I know how to treat a lady like you. Let me feel your pussy ... oh, Jesus, I'm going to blow my wad in my pants!"
The wine was making her head spin, and she didn't have the physical strength to fight him off, so she tried to relax her body and prayed that he would be satisfied with just touching her for a moment. Every obscene word of his was like a stinging slap across the face for her, but she had to endure it for Carl.
His hand traveled rapidly up her leg until he could feel the soft down, of her pubic hair. Then, brushing away the flimsy material of her nightgown in order to give him freer access to her naked loins, his frantic fingers slid into the heated crevice between her legs.
Lainie jerked desperately in a futile effort to get away, but his fingers slipped between her velvety pussy lips and touched the tiny bud of her clitoris, pinching at the bundle of nerve endings and making her cry out in shame and agony.
"Oooooohhhh, noooo, please ... don't do that!" she whimpered, knowing that if she didn't stop him now, she would be lost to his naked lusts.
"Shut up, bitch!" he spat out at her, all the feigned sympathy now gone from his face as his passions rose like a blinding storm. "You just keep your mouth shut or, by God, I'll see to it that your old man is in prison for years!"
She recoiled, hating him, loathing the obscene thing he was doing to her with his fingers, praying desperately that he would stop before it was too late. She could see his cock bulging and jerking against the cloth of his trousers, pulsating with an obscene lust. Then his hand was fumbling with his zipper, and she just sat and stared at him, unable to move while his hands were busy, one kneading and pinching at the sensitive opening of her cunt, the other frantically trying to pull out the repulsive rod of male meat.
"NOOOOO! NOOOO!" she shrieked as he inserted another finger up inside her quivering pussy and ground them around and around cruelly, the nails scraping along the tender flesh, searching for the clenching opening that led up into her vaginal depths.
"SHUT UP, DAMN YOU, SHUT UP!" he hissed, spittle flying out of his mouth and landing on her face. "I mean it, you little bitch! By God, I'm going to get some pussy for the rent money you cheated me out of!"
He was mauling at her like a wild bear mauls its victim, a strange, lustful smile on his ugly face. He had managed to shove her sideways on the couch so that his body was half over hers, his cock pulsing against the soft white skin of her thighs. And his fingers wormed insistently into her cunt until she thought she would be split apart. The walls of her pussy were crying out for relief from the savage mauling and the depravity of his persistent lust. She was completely helpless, her throbbing loins pinioned by his hands and her whole body ached from his depraved attack. She tried to reach up to scratch his face and push him away, but his desire-inflamed strength was too great for her, and his weight crushed her down against the pillows of the couch.
His passion mounted rapidly, he worked his heavy body up over hers, and she could feel his thick rod jerking frantically against her cringing thighs as it wormed its way closer and closer to the furiously twisting opening of her cunt.
"No, please, please, don't do this to me," she wailed, bitter, salty tears pouring down over her cheeks and neck. I can't bear it, she thought, not this, too! her whole body was shaking violently from the frenzied assault on her genitals, and her belly was aching from the fingers that continued their cruel assault up inside her burning depths.
She felt herself being shoved, probed and pushed until she was helplessly stretched out full length on the couch and was staring in wide-eyed terror at the ceiling. Her thin robe was being torn from her body as though it were made of paper, and his cruel fingernails raked over her skin like animal claws as he struggled out of his trousers and shorts.
Suddenly his throbbing prick stood out like a gigantic pole. Then, as Lainie screamed against his flesh, she felt his rock-hard cock pushing into the soft fleshiness of her inner thighs as he dropped down on her and pushed deeper into her with his fingers, wiggling them unmercifully, holding her in this degrading position for what seemed like an eternity. No matter how she twisted and turned beneath him he did not relent. She was not totally impaled by this awful, sweating, pig of a man.
The weight of his body was crushing her and he moved back and forth on her naked flesh, squashing her full, rounded melons until they ached with misery. And his hand ran freely up and down her body, feeling and kneading the soft, smooth curves of her torso until he roughly grasped one of her breasts and squeezed it with all of his might.
"AAAARRRGGHHH!" she yelped, knowing in her heart that her cries of agonized protest were only making him even more aroused. He held his mouth downward while his body held her pinned to the couch, then his tongue traced a wet, noisy pattern down her throat and over the curve of her neck to her breasts, flicking at the tender, aching nipples, sucking On them like a nursing baby, hurting her, enjoying every moment of the obscene pain and humiliation he was subjecting her to.
"EEEEKKK! It hurts ... it hurts meee!" she squealed, half out of her mind from her awful pain and humiliation.
"That's it, baby," he grunted. "Go on, yell if you like! The more they scream and fight me the more I love it!"
She wished she could lose consciousness from the pain and horror of what was happening, but each time he bit or scratched at her vulnerable, weak body a new wave of reality raced through her and she was cruelly reminded of what this lecherous man was doing to her.
She could now feel the whole horrible length of his cock jerking, pulsing against the softness of her cunt as he manipulated her body to an angle so that he could enter her. He withdrew his fingers from her pussy in a quick, painful movement, scraping the walls of her vagina heedlessly, grabbing the throbbing length of his own cock and aiming it for the tiny, clenched slit nestled between her thighs. She stared as if hypnotized, her eyes unable to pull away from the gigantic rod, certain that he would tear her apart with its massive length and girth. Just the thought of the huge pole of male meat caused her to feel faint.
Hank Groggins saw her staring at his huge, throbbing cock as he held it in his hands, and he smiled at her expression of horror.
"I'll bet your old man ain't got nothing this big," he laughed sadistically, his crooked teeth showing.
He moved slowly toward her, watching the fearful apprehension on her lovely face as he proved her tight, vulnerable slit with the monstrous head of his cock, letting it move into her, tearing her flesh with each cruel thrust as she cried out in mortal pain.
"No ... it's too big ... it won't fit ... NOOO!" she groaned between whimpering gasps, feeling each thrust of his horribly large cock.
He laughed at her, shoving further up into the velvety tightness, his grin broadening as he suddenly lurched forward with his hips and buried his shaft deep up in her already tortured belly with all of his brute strength, making her explode a shattering scream of pain.
"AAAAIIIEEE!" she groaned as she felt the throbbing head of his pulsating cock ram deeply against the cushiony walls of her womb. Her inflamed pussy contracted around the monstrous rod, and her own juices began to flow defensively, lubricating her so that she wouldn't injure the sensitive tissue there. His hands were busily mauling at her soft, round breasts, his fingers pinching her nipples into hard, painful erectness as she closed her eyes tightly and clenched her teeth from the pain and degradation she felt.
She twisted in fear under his weight, but he didn't let up his constant hammering of her cunt. She was helplessly impaled by the monstrous prick that slammed in and out in an endless and soul-shattering series of brutal strokes. Every nerve in her pain was on fire, drenched with liquid flames of agony that threatened to destroy her sanity. She hated him, hated her own lovely body, hated the exquisite little cunt down between her legs that had been the cause of so much of her unhappiness!
Hank Groggins was like a wild beast, his glistening prick moved in and out rhythmically, his hips powerfully skewering with each piston-like stroke far up inside her quaking belly. The clenching walls of her aching cunt were massaging his rod like a thousand tiny fingers, filling him with a sweet ecstasy, making him delirious with lust.
He had finally managed to get his swollen cock into the beautiful tenant and this wasn't going to be the last time! he thought smugly. Oh, no, she was his now, for as long as he wanted! She'd never be able to raise the rent money, nor would he give up the hold he had over the pretty female. This was better cunt than he had ever had in his life - prime, tight pussy!
The only thing that bothered him was that she wasn't responding as he had hoped. In his lecherous mind he had imagined she would turn into a raging nymphomaniac once she tasted his huge cock. Instead, she was crying and moaning like a frigid bitch.
"Oh God, don't, it hurts me ... it hurts me ..." she whined piteously, her body gasping for air as he sank his hardened shaft of flesh far up into her cringing cunt for the hundredth time and filled her with new agony.
You'll get used to it, baby, he thought silently, looking down at her pain-contorted face rolling back and forth on the couch. Her long hair was matted around her head, damp with the tears that still flowed from her hate-filled eyes.
Grunting again, Hank reached down under her body and grasped one of the melon-shaped buttocks in each hand, pulling her slickened cunt up cruelly against his own hard pubic bone, grinding his wiry pubic hair against her soft silk, gloating with triumph now, reveling in the feel of the tight, damp sheath enveloping his throbbing boner.
Holding her like this, he began to batter her pussy without mercy, hearing the exciting squish of her flesh pressing against his, feeling the lubricating juices flowing out over his thickened cock, aware of the building ache in his madly swinging balls as he battered her pussy without tenderness or sympathy. She was a goddamned cunt, he thought sadistically, just a two-bit whore with a furry little mouth between her legs, just like every other cunt in the building - in the world! Maybe he wasn't the world's handsomest male - maybe he was overweight and middle-aged! By God, he had something that most men didn't - the ability to blackmail his female tenants economically! And they were going to do any damned thing he wanted!
He could feel his passion at the boiling point now, and he knew his prick would be exploding inside her hotly drenched cunt at any moment. He slowed his slow, powerful thrusts in an effort to prolong the delicious sensation of his young, helpless tenant writhing in terror under him.
No more, no more! her mind screamed in agony as she felt him skewering her cunt with his gigantic rod. Her body burned with embarrassment at the terrible thought of what was happening. Hank Groggins was raping her, using her body as any vicious rapist uses his victim's unwilling flesh. How could she have been so naive to think that he would stop with just a lewd look and a quick feel of her legs? And how could she have been so stupid as to let the lecherous man into the house?
"Don't worry, baby," he chuckled sadistically. "You'll get to love it ... just like all the other cunts do! Before you know it, you'll be begging me for cock! Oh, man, this tight pussy is beautiful ... just fucking beautiful!"
A hot, searing flame of agony burst through her body as he pounded her again and again, driving the breath from her, making her nipples scream out for mercy from the wiry chest-hairs that were scraping and rubbing them raw. But Hank Groggins didn't relent for a moment. Instead, overwhelmed by his own obscene desire, he quickened his strokes, knowing that his climax was only moments away. The pressure was building in his heavy balls that slapped cruelly against Lainie's upturned ass and thighs, and his prick seemed to grow larger and larger now.
"Here it comes, bitch," he said thickly, grunting with lust, "... here it comes!"
With several hip-thrusting stabs, he began emptying himself deep inside her, his hot sperm splashing around in her battered cunt and filling her with shock and disgust. On and on it went, each cruel stab sending more and more of the sticky male juice far up inside her belly, bringing new grunts of obscene joy to his thick lips.
Lainie lay under his heavy weight and suffered the tortures of the damned, feeling herself dirtied beyond belief by the savage man's loathsome male fluids. Her body trembled violently as he slowed his movements, then lay heavily against her body, his passions subsiding at last. Shame and degradation made her flesh burn, and her ravaged cunt felt as if a battering ram had been cruelly thrusting in and out of her belly.
"Jesus, that was great, honey," he sighed at last, rolling off her and resting his legs on the floor while he stared down at her limp and helpless body.
Lainie didn't have the strength to pull her thighs together, and Hank's eager eyes devoured the gaping wetness of her aching cuntal flesh, reddened and oozing his sticky juices out onto her bruised thighs. Her own eyes were closed tightly, but she could sense the way he was staring down at her pussy, making her even more ashamed and embarrassed.
She flinched when she felt his hand come down to rest between her legs, his hands sluicing around in the velvety dampness of her forever-stretched cuntal lips.
"No ... haven't you done enough all ready?" she snarled at him, opening her eyes and staring up at the fat-faced man. "What more do you want from me?"
He laughed sadistically.
"Lots more, honey ... lots more!"
"Get out and leave me alone," she whimpered, all the fight gone from her. "Just leave me alone!"
"Sure, baby," he sighed, getting up and slipping into his shorts. His limp prick lay glistening against his hairy thigh, the thickly blue-tinged veins bulging in relief against the massive shaft.
The depressed young wife watched him dress, then closed her eyes and tried to calm the rage she felt toward the man. He was an animal - a wild beast of prey! Unfortunately for her, she was as helpless as a wounded animal waiting to be slaughtered. She was still lying on the couch with her eyes closed -when she heard him slip out the front door. Only then did she get wearily to her feet and put on her ripped nightgown. Holding it tightly around her shivering, abused body, she went slowly to the door and locked it.
Then, as weary as she had ever been in her life, she went into the bedroom and slipped into bed, praying that sleep would come before her tortured thoughts drove her out of her mind.