Chapter 9
"What are we going to do?"
"What do you mean? We don't have to do anything ... just stay here and enjoy ourselves," Willy said in answer to Tom's question.
Tom stroked his chin and looked down at the cluttered table. He took the whiskey bottle, raised it to his lips then hesitated. He was troubled ever since the girl had escaped and even though Willy had suggested that they chain her to the bed, he didn't feel any safer. It all started to turn upside down; Willy, the girl, the situation and his own part in it.
"I don't know Willy. I have to be getting back in a few days and I was thinking..." he said and took a long drink.
"What were you thinking?"
"I was thinking that maybe we ought to let her go."
"What?" Willy shouted and pushed his chair back with a loud scrape. "Have you lost your mind? I'm not letting her go, so just get that out of your head."
"But you can't keep her here forever," Tom explained. "So why not let her go now?"
"Never."
"Look, Willy. If it's just the good time ... I mean if all you need is a woman ... I have plenty of dough and we can take a little trip to the city and..."
"Forget it," Willy said solemnly. "I like this one and anyway, it's like I told you, she really loves it. Every time I crack her with the whip she shivers all over. She gets her fun out of it too ... don't kid yourself."
Tom thought for a moment. He didn't like Willy's attitude at all ... especially now. Willy had gone upstairs when they woke up after their sleep this morning and chained Joan to the bed. He boarded the only window in the room and locked the door. The girl was in pitiful shape. She refused to eat and every time Tom looked at her battered body, he wanted to turn and run.
Willy on the other hand, was preoccupied with devising more tortures for the girl and his friend's behavior only served to irritate him. He was sorry now that he had brought Tom home with him. It had been foolish of him to want to prove something by bringing Tom home. Now he was in a vise. Tom couldn't be trusted and Willy didn't know what to do about it.
"Listen, I've got to go to town and pick up a few things. How about going with me, having a few drinks ... you'll feel better if you get out of here for a while."
"I'd rather stay here. I'm still tired and I don't think drinking any more would help. Why don't you just go ahead without me? I'll take a nap on the couch."
Willy frowned. He couldn't very well force Tom to go with him and he had to go to town. There wasn't any food left in the house and Willy was beginning to get hungry. He rose slowly from the chair, his eyes glued to Tom.
"All right ... I'll go alone. The key to the room is on the table in the living room. If she needs anything..."
"Don't you worry. I'll take care of it."
"You want anything?"
"No. Nothing that I can think of."
Willy put his coat on and walked out. It was bright and sunny outside and he had to squint his eyes against the sharp yellow needles that hurt his eyes. He turned onto the path that led through the woods and in a while, he could see the tops of the low buildings. He trampled through the dust and watched the small clouds rise a few inches then disappear.
The bar was empty when Willy entered but the bartender looked up and smiled. He recognized Willy and waved.
"How are you today?" he asked as Willy came up to the bar.
"Okay ... I guess. But I'll feel a lot better if you give me a drink."
"What'll it be?"
"Whiskey and a beer on the side."
Willy looked around the place. It was warm inside and the booths were hiding in the shadows. Sunlight streamed in the window but was somewhat subdued by the heavy curtain. The barman brought his drink and he emptied it in one gulp, slammed the glass down and ordered another.
"You might as well leave the whole bottle," he said.
The man was wiping some glasses now and every few moments he would look up at Willy who was still standing and pouring whiskey down his throat. He hadn't touched the beer.
"Where's your friend the story-teller?"
"Oh ... up at the house. He feels pretty tired. We been doing some hiking and he couldn't take it. Must be getting soft, living in the city."
"He from around here?"
"Tom? Why, we grew up together here.
Went to school together and all. He left for the city when we were younger but came back after a few years. Ever since then he's been going back for a while, making money then visiting in town. His-family used to live in the Henry place."
"You don't say? I was just wondering because a guy like him ... telling them stories ... a bartender ain't-likely to forget. But I can't recall ever seeing him."
"He usually hangs around the clubs in town."
Willy had finished about half the bottle and was beginning to slur his words. His head had calmed down and he decided that he would straighten every thing out back at the house. It was all very simple ... just needed a little organized thought ... that was all and now that the alcohol had soothed his nerves, he knew that he would figure everything out shortly.
Tom lay back on the couch and stared at the whiskey in his hand. He had been drinking steadily ever since Willy left for town and now he could feel the alcohol warming his blood. He wondered what was taking Willy so long and then decided that it didn't matter. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Joan should be awake by now, he thought. Better go see what's going on up there.
He took the steps quickly and found the door open. Willy is sure a careless character, he thought to himself as he stepped into the room.
"Are you hungry?" he asked Joan. He couldn't think of anything else as he looked at her, lying chained to the bed. "Can I get you something?"
Joan shook her head and stared at him. She knew that there was something about Tom, something that said to her that she could reason with him but she couldn't be sure. He looked so pathetic standing in the doorway. His hands were thrust deep in his pockets and his eyes were bloodshot as if he'd been drinking. She wondered.
"Come here," she said, motioning for him to sit on the bed. He followed the line of her chin and shook his head. "Don't be afraid. What's the matter, I'm tied up, not you."
Tom shrugged his shoulders and sat on the bed. He noticed that the marks on her flesh were barely visible now and he wondered what had happened. She should have been in terrible shape, he thought. But there was a faint odor that tickled his nose and he realized that Willy must have put something on her skin to help. What a nut, he thought, first he whips her, then he takes care of her.
"What's your name?"
"Tom," he answered in a low voice.
"Tom ... where's Willy? Has he gone out?"
"Yeah. He went to town to get some groceries. Why?"
"It's so quiet."
"Yeah."
"Look ... Tom ... I won't beat around the bush. I want out of here. I don't know how much more punishment I can stand before I go out of my mind. You seem like a reasonable person ... couldn't you do something?"
Tom smiled and his white teeth flashed across his mouth.
"Reasonable? I don't know why you say that. I did just as much as Willy."
"Not really," she said, softening her gaze. "Willy comes after me with a vengeance, while you..."
"What about me?" he said angrily.
"You seemed to be after a good time. I don't know how you met Willy but if all you want is a good time, we don't really need him."
Tom looked at her. His face was screwed up in tight little folds. The alcohol had taken full affect now and he didn't understand what she was saying.
"What do you mean ... we don't need Willy? Are you suggesting..."
"I'm suggesting nothing. All I'm saying is that if you want a good time with me ... I don't see why you have to share it with Willy. You're pretty handsome, you know, and I wouldn't feel the same with you as I do with Willy."
Tom was clearly flattered by her remarks. He puffed his chest up and tried to sit straight but his body was loose, like a lump of moist clay and he slumped forward.
"What are you driving at?"
"Unlock my chains and I'll show you."
"Yeah. Look ... if I had the key, I wouldn't even bother because I know that you'd run as soon as those locks are opened and then where would I be? You would take off to the nearest police station and..."
"No! You have it all wrong," she interrupted. "I wouldn't run. I'll let you have me ... take what you want from me and maybe we could go away ... the two of us ... before he gets back."
Joan let her words sink in. Tom was rubbing his face, trying to clear the cobwebs that her words had woven in his fuzzy mind. It didn't make sense to him that he should cut his own throat and let her go."
"You don't believe me?" she said.
"No, not really ... if you want to know the truth, I think you're just trying to use me. But it ain't going to work."
"Come here."
"What?"
"Come here, I said."
She closed her eyes and waited and Tom leaned forward to kiss her soft lips. It was the first time he had kissed her since he came to the place and the velvety touch of her mouth, combined with the affect of the drink made his head spin dizzily. He sat up and looked at her. Joan's eyes were still closed and there was a smile on her lips now. She arched her body toward him and her pink nipples seemed to quiver. His hand darted forward and touched her delicate flesh, smoothed across her flat belly and Joan squirmed slowly under his fingers. He felt the silky fluff of down, rubbed his broad hand gently over it and down to the hot, dry lips of her cunt. His forefinger played with her lips, sliding up and down over the outside of the loose skin, then suddenly plunging deep inside. Joan stiffened as his fingers rasped her dry flesh, then settled back and moaned softly. He took his finger out. It was wet and shiny now and he slid it along the tight folds of her buttocks. She was on fire. His finger felt the heat and now he toyed with her tight ass. She squirmed as he worked the finger into her, boring a few inches and twisting around in a screw-like motion.
Tom was getting hard. His breath came quicker and his chest pumped the air like a wheezing accordian. He looked at the beautiful girl and bent forward to kiss her belly.
"Take your clothes off," Joan whispered huskily.
Tom moved instinctively and tossed his clothes to the floor. He was on top of Joan before she realized what was happening. Tom's cock was on her belly and she made and attempt to reach for it. He slid up further and rubbed his prick over her breasts. The head was swollen and red and dry and the touch of her silky flesh sent shivers through his body. Tom slid it over her nipples and they hardened and tickled the nerve of his cock. He moved over each breast slowly, riding over the velvety mounds of flesh. Joan made noises in her throat and closed her eyes. Tom worked over her chest, the smooth valley between her breasts then squeezed them together, sandwiching his thick cock between her firm flesh.
Joan opened her mouth now and tried to reach the head of his prick with her tongue. Tom inched forward until his cock was against her tongue and she licked him until he pushed the burning red flesh into her mouth. Joan settled back with his swollen cock stretching her lips and sucking while Tom moaned. He reached forward and pulled her hair, forcing her head up and his cock sunk deeper. She moaned, trying to pull back a little and he felt her tight lips slide over the nerve. His prick was throbbing inside her quick mouth, pulling slowly in and out. He savored every pull of her lips as it rolled over him, sending sparks through his body. His balls began to swell and he rose to his knees. He looked down as his prick gorged her mouth and Joan sucked his hot flesh, rolling her tongue over his tender head, then tickling the tiny slit with the hard tip of her tongue. Tom rolled back and forth in her mouth, watching his gleaming wet cock sink deep then slide back out. Her lips clung greedily each time he pulled out and Tom couldn't stand the torment any longer. He pumped faster now and the lava boiled in his groin. He jerked his prick in and out of her mouth until every nerve of his body was stretched taut and he came fast, pouring his hot fluid into her mouth and she was swallowing every drop.
She wouldn't stop sucking now and Tom's cock stayed hard and stiff and he thought he would go crazy as her tongue teased him. She pushed away suddenly and whispered for him to fuck her.
"Hurry ... Tom, you big, wonderful man. Fuck me until I beg you for mercy. Yes, that's right, there. Oh! That's it, Tom. So good. Harder. Fuck me harder!"
Tom was pounding furiously inside of her tight cunt. Her words drove him into a wild frenzy and he wanted to split her open, hear her scream.
"Harder, Tom, more. Hurt me, Tom. You're wonderful. It's so good. More ... push in more."
He was a wild animal now, ruled by his steely cock as it rammed all the way up into her. He moved with a new energy, slid the entire length of his cock out of her, then as the head appeared, he rammed it back up into her and her belly heaved and her body twisted and squirmed, tugging at her bonds. The rattle of the chains and his heavy breathing were the only sounds in the room until Joan opened her mouth and wailed. She screamed and twisted wildly and jerked her legs and Tom gushed into her. The sperm kept coming as he fell against her, hunching his cock in and out, feeling the fluid rush through his cock and explode in the head, pour into her until it oozed and ran over her buttocks. Joan was still thrusting her belly upward and battering the head of his prick. Her mouth was open and her breath came in loud gasps and then she stiffened, arched up against him and cascaded over his cock. After a long moment, she settled back on the bed and closed her eyes. Her chest was still heaving, pumping air and Tom gave a final lunge with his cock. He wanted to feel the tingle run through his nerves before it got soft. He fell heavily against the prostrate girl and she grunted under his weight. They were silent for a while and then Joan began speaking in a low voice.
"See what I mean? We can have a good time together. We don't need anyone else. Willy is in the way when it comes to me and you."
Tom didn't say a word. He lay there, breathing heavily and closed his eyes. He heard her words clearly now and he understood exactly what she wanted. It angered him to hear her talking like that about Willy and finally he got up and looked into her eyes. He lifted his legs over her and began putting his clothes on again.
"Aren't you going to say something? Can't you tell me what you're thinking. Say something!" Her face was red now and her eyes shining as she screamed at him. She knew what he was going to say before he uttered a sound and she felt nothing but frustration and pulled hard on her bonds.
"You'll only hurt yourself," Tom observed. "I would save my strength if I were you, Willy should be coming back soon."
"But you can't go now..."
"I don't see why not. Anyway, I'll be back as soon as Willy gets here."
"Please," Joan said. "You've got to listen to me. I have to get out of here. You don't know what Willy will do to me." She had a desperate look in her eves and tears bubbled and rolled across her cheek. "You just don't understand."
Tom stood in the open doorway and looked at her. His face was devoid of emotion although her words were clattering in his head. He had been trying to avoid the question of what Willy was going to do to her when he was through with her. There weren't many alternatives. He shuddered at the thought and shook his head, trying to wipe out the crazy idea.
"What can I do? I'm not responsible for any of this," he said and swept his hand in a circle. "Willy won't bother you if that's what you're talking about."
Joan stared disbelievingly at him. Her mouth hung open as his words echoed in her ears.
"You can stand there, look at me and know what you do ... and still say that? You are either blind or completely stupid. You know damned well what he's going to do when he's had enough of this."
Tom turned his back on her and walked out to the stairs. Joan was crying now and he felt a chill go up his back and he shook himself. It wasn't his problem. He was here to have a good time and if Willy went crazy...
"It will be just as much your fault!" Joan shouted from the room. "You're already in too deep."
Tom found the bottle of whiskey on the table and took a long drink. It burned his throat this time and he winced, set it down and wiped the back of his hand across his lips. He wanted to leave. It would be easy to get on his coat and walk out without turning back. Willy would be angry for a while, but he didn't give a damn. It was getting too tight around here. He could feel the walls closing in on him and that girl, he thought and looked at the top of the stairs. She's getting on my nerves.
He sat heavily in a chiar and cradled his head in his hands. The house was quiet now and he had time to think things out ... what he'd really gotten into.
"Hey old timer, you're fucking drunk," a young man called from the bar.
Willy was spinning crazily in the center of the room. He held a bottle of whiskey high over his head and attempted to clap his hands as he did a drunken dance. He heard the music of the juke box but somehow, the rhythm evaded his feet. They kept getting in each other's way and he stumbled against the dancers in the bar. It was warm. God damned hot. And he was sweating profusely as he reeled around in a twisting circle like a corkscrew.
"What the hell you doing pal?"
Willy looked up into the man's face and grinned, showing his white teeth. He extended the bottle to the man who smiled nervously at the girl he was dancing with. He shook his head and danced away.
Willy looked around the bar. He didn't recognize anyone in the thick crowd that had accumulated right under his nose while he drank all afternoon. It was late evening now and he didn't know or care what time it was. A pretty young girl was sitting in a booth with another couple and Willy staggered over to them.
"Hi sweetie," he drawled.
The young girl looked up and smiled.
"You want to dance, honey?"
The three young people giggled at him then and he felt rage boil up in his neck but held back and took another swallow of whiskey. Shit, he thought, just having fun.
"Come on honey," he said and reached for the girl's hand.
She jerked her hand back and shook her head. The young man started to get up but his girl friend grabbed his arm and pulled him down.
"Take it easy honey," she said. "The old guy's okay, just a little tipsy. Right, mister?" she said, smiling at Willy.
"Just a little dance sweetie," he said and grabbed the girl's hand.
"Now look..." the young man said and started to get up again.
Before anyone knew what was happening, Willy smashed the whiskey bottle on the man's head. The glass shattered and whiskey splashed over everyone. The man looked surprised as he fell backward into the booth and lay unconscious. The two women screamed and someone grabbed Willy from behind. He struggled against the man's grip, twisting and kicking backward and then another man was in standing right in front of him, drawing a wide fist back and Willy saw an explosion of lights, and heard the music slow down to a crawl and the muffled voices...
They hustled him outside, two men on each end and swung him back and forth until he was about shoulder height, then they let go at the same time and he flew a short distance and then cracked in a heap on the hard-packed dirt. His head missed hitting a car fender by inches but Willy wasn't aware of any of it. He was out cold from the fist that had cracked into his jaw.
It was cold now and Willy sat up on the ground, reached for his chin and felt the sharp pain where the man had hit him. He was still dizzy and he tried to make out the shapes of the parked cars that seemed to loom above him like big mountains. His pants were wet and he shivered with cold. Willy rose unsteadily to his feet and his head reeled. The ground waved and slanted under him and he staggered sideways, reaching out for support then found the ground coming up to meet him again.
Music came from the bar and Willy recognized the song. It was the one that had been playing on the juke box when he asked the girl for a dance.
The lights were bright and hurt Willy's eyes as he struggled to his feet a second time. His back hurt now and he rubbed the sore spot. His hand rubbed a wet patch on his pants and he wondered what it could be. He decided that it was the whiskey and smiled as he recalled the startled look on the young man's face when the bottle smacked his skull.
Willy's mouth was as dry as paper. He wiped his lips and tried to draw some saliva but his reservoir was dried by the alcohol. He decided that he needed a drink and walked back into the bar.
It was darker inside than out and he ducked his head to keep from being noticed. He made it to the end of the bar and the bartender, a worried look on his face, came down to him and leaned close.
"Get the fuck out of here, Willy," he demanded in a hushed voice. "That guy will kill you if he sees you here again. He's been sitting there talking about looking for you anyway so take my advice and get out now!"
"Aw ... Alls I want is a drink ... Just one drink. It ain't going to kill nobody if I have one more."
The barman stared at him for a few moments. Willy was all smiles and he held out both hands to show how helpless he was.
"I don't know why ... but I'll give you one more if you promise to keep out of sight. Don't start any more trouble or I'll call the cops."
"Sure, sure," Willy said. "I just want a sip of cool beer. I won't start no trouble. I promise."
"Who's calling the cops?" a big man standing nearby asked. "I hear someone say they were calling the cops?"
"No," the barman answered. "We were talking about the cops ... about how long it would take them to get here if I called them."
"Oh, well if you do call them, give me a warning. I don't want to be here when they get here." He laughed and took a drink out of his glass. His eyes met Willy's and stopped. "Ain't I seen you someplace before?"
"Me?" Willy said, poking his finger into his own chest. "I don't believe so. I ain't seen you around here."
The man came closer and frowned. He was a head taller than Willy and looked down at him with beady eyes.
"Sure. I seen you around town. I don't know your name but I sure seen you. Fred ... that's my name."
"Glad to know you Fred. Willy's mine," he said, extending his hand.
Fred crushed Willy's fingers and shook vigorously.
"Some grip you got there, Fred."
"Yeah," he grinned. "Say, what happened to you? I just noticed that bruise on your face."
Willy put his hand to his cheek and winced. He hadn't noticed the sore spot before. One of the men had hit him as he landed on the ground and a big blue spot had spread while he was out cold.
"Oh, this," he said absently. "Ain't nothing to brag about. Had a little misunderstanding with a few fellas before and they won out."
Willy looked over Fred's shoulder to see if he recognized anyone. He figured they must have left. He didn't see the man or the two women.
"Yeah, I know what you mean." Fred remarked with a smile. "I've had those kind of nights myself."
"Big bruiser like you? I find that hard to believe," Willy said. "How about a drink?"
"Why, thanks. That's nice of you."
"Two down here," Willy hollered.
The bartender came back with two beers and set them on the counter. He threw a suspicious glance at Fred but Willy picked up one glass and handed it to him, smiled at the barman and took his own glass.
"Here's to you," he said and swallowed his beer. "Man, that's good stuff when you're thirsty. Does a man a world of good."
The crowd began to thin and soon Willy and his new friend were the only two people at the bar. Willy was talking loud. He was drunk again and had been ordering drinks for both of them. The barman cast suspicious looks down at him each time he laughed out loud. He figured that Willy wasn't able to pay for all the drinks.
"How about one more?"
"Yeah," Fred agreed. "Then I'll have to be getting alone. Sure was a lot of fun drinking with you."
"Shit. You ain't going nowhere. Not now that the party's going to start." Fred's eyes lit up.
"Party? You didn't say nothing about a party. Where is it?"
"My place," Willy announced. "Bring me the bill and a fresh bottle to go!" he called to the barman.
"Hold it old timer," Fred said. "I don't go for that stuff. I'll pass up the invitation ... No hard feelings."
Willy narrowed his eyes and slapped his hand on the bar.
"Do you like girls? Young, plump, big breasted, flat bellied girls? Young, like a fresh hen ... Uh, slightly used."
"What the hell you talking about?"
"Girls ... young ones. I got one at the house. You're coming back and I won't take no for an answer. We'll leave, soon as I take a leak," Willy announced and strode off toward the men's room.
The bartender came down with two fresh beers and a bottle of whiskey wrapped in a paper bag.
"Where'd he go?"
"Men's room," Fred told him. Then he leaned forward and said: "The old guy ... you know him?"
"Willy? Sure. Coming in here for years."
"Is he ... uh ... funny?"
"Willy? No. What the hell ever gave you that idea. Fact is, the old bastard's got a way with women. That's what got him in trouble tonight. He got itchy pants."
"Thanks. Sorry I got the wrong idea. You won't say anything will you?" he asked as Willy emerged from the men's room.
"No. It's okay. He'd understand anyway."
"You ready?" Willy asked in a loud voice.
"Yeah ... Yeah, I'm ready as ever."