Chapter 1
The late afternoon sun had turned the hills to golden velvet and they crouched like tawny sleeping lions, shoulders and haunches interlocked and fading away in the distance. Those golden lions, folded in peace, had never looked so lovely, Maeve thought as she drove her Volkswagen bus along the Carmel Valley road between them, pointed toward home.
Her euphoria spilled from her lips in a tuneless humming as she glanced at the painting she'd finished in art class this afternoon, lying in a bright spot of sun on the seat beside her. It was good. Solid work. Dinner was going to be late and Carl was going to be furious. Since her art work had become her passion that seemed to be his permanent state... fury. But she didn't care... at least not right now.
It was summer. The children had been put on the plane this morning for Illinois and Grandma, and Maeve Crandall was free for three whole months to do just what she'd done today... paint, paint, paint!
She glanced at the painting again. The orange and blue thing had worked! The splayed female figure under the orange sky like a free and expanding goddess. Maybe because she felt like a goddess today... to do what she loved... to paint the visions that whirled in her head even when she went through the automatic motions of being Mrs. Carl Crandall, proper professor's wife and mother of two little girls.
Her tuneless hum changed to a whistle as she pursed her full red lips and beat out a little tattoo on the steering wheel with her small graceful paint-stained hands. Amazing how just one day of doing what you truly wanted to do could fill you with such joy! She swung the bus expertly into the driveway beside Carl's Mercedes, leaped down and ran lightly around to open the other door and take out the still-wet painting.
Maeve held it at arm's length, squinted her large brown pansy eyes, wrinkled her pert little nose and cocked her shiny dark brown head. Yes, it was good. Really good. It was going to hold up.
She smiled again happily to herself and went through the carport, across the stone patio and into the house through the study, singing softly to herself, "Joy to the World!" Who cared if it was June... it was Christmas to her.
She stopped in the laundry, which hardly had room for the washer and dryer anymore with all her painting paraphernalia. She put the painting carefully on the easel. Wiping her hands on her paint-splattered jean-clad hips and thighs, she backed away and looked at the painting again. Yes. It was going to be all right.
Still not able to tear herself away from her visible, tangible day's work, so unlike the housework that had constantly to be redone, she absentmindedly pulled her shirttails out of her jeans and began unbuttoning her shirt buttons, still staring at the painting... first from one angle... then from another.
"Where the hell have you been?" The words hit Maeve's backbone like ice cubes and she whirled to find Carl, cold and tight-lipped, framed in the doorway. He was immaculate in a dark suit, pale blue shirt and silver cufflinks... a small but well-proportioned man with powerful shoulders and lean hips, dark hair, and tanned face that made his ice blue eyes look crystalline. Those eyes swept Maeve now in cold fury... from her shiny brown hair cut in a silky cap to her big trusting earnest brown eyes, little tilted nose and full lips, small slim figure with the amazingly full breasts and beautiful legs in the tight jeans.
"If you had deliberately set out to sabotage me, you couldn't have done a better job. But you don't think about me enough to be deliberate, do you?"
"Oh, Carl... please." Instinctively she went toward him and then stopped as those eyes froze her.
"Admiral Grandfield is here from Washington. He's vitally interested in the business management department. Since I hold the only Harvard Ph.D. in the department at the moment, there is a chance he might be interested in my work, don't you think?" he said coldly.
"There's a reception for him in forty-five minutes, at the Navy Postgraduate School... my employers who pay for all this nonsense," he waved his hand contemptuously at her painting, "in case you've forgotten." He looked at his watch. "It takes thirty minutes to get there from here. That gives you exactly fifteen minutes to get ready." He spun on his heel and stalked off to the living room.
Oh God! She'd completely forgotten! Damn. Damn. Damn. How could she have forgotten? Today, it had been easy. It got easier all the time... to forget all the structured, boring ritualistic Navy School academia that was Carl's work. Work he wouldn't share with her, so all she knew was the boring surface.
"I'll be right there," she called.
Maeve raced through to their bedroom, stripping her clothes off as she went. Things were going from bad to worse. The happier she was with her painting, the unhappier Carl seemed to get. As she soaped quickly in the shower, she wondered about that. She'd always been so happy for Carl when he had a triumph... so why did her small victories with paint infuriate him so? It wasn't just that she was late tonight. There was so much more to it than that.
She dressed with shaking fingers. The beige silk linen, so plain that her figure and her face were the focus of attention... the strip sandals, pearl and crystal rope. Hurry. Hurry. Hurry. The white silk bag, earrings. Thank God she had no worry about hair or makeup except for eye makeup. She carefully emphasized those huge expressive brown eyes with liner and mascara. A powder puff touched briefly to her nose was all her creamy poreless skin needed. Lipstick she'd do in the car. A quick brushing and her hair fell in the short shining cap that curled around her face and showed the good bones of her head and jaw.
A brief touch of perfume at the cleavage of her breasts that swelled in the deep "V" of the dress. Gloves to cover her unpolished nails that she'd forgotten to manicure, and she was ready. The mirror showed only a shining, beautiful young woman who looked more like twenty than thirty. Her stomach that was beginning to knot and her head that ached were completely invisible.
Maeve walked into the living room just in time to hear Carl say, "I'll call you later," surreptitiously into the phone. She didn't need to be told who was on the other end of the phone. Betty Lunsford, the perennial clinging-vine southern belle, the helpless neighbor across the road, the wife of one of Carl's young Navy lieutenant students... who called on Carl more and more for "help."
Betty Lunsford's subterfuges didn't fool Maeve for an instant. She was after Carl or any other man she thought would improve her position. Maeve felt certain that Betty would only stay married to naive young George until she found someone richer and more prestigious.
"Who was that?" She knew full well but she couldn't stop herself asking.
"Betty," Carl admitted coolly... not even bothering to lie. He finished the drink in his hand with one gulp.
"Could I have one of those in a paper cup?"
"We're late already."
"You start the car and I'll make it. I need it about now, I think."
The ride into town was miserable. Carl took the Los Laureles grade, and Maeve had the ghastly feeling every time he took one of the long turns winding over the ridge of mountains to the Salinas highway that he was going to plunge them over the edge and they'd go rolling down a high sage-covered hill. She could see it in slow motion, the car turning over and over, crashing silently down the mountain with them inside like a movie with no sound track. She lit a cigarette, trying to shake the vision, but it kept recurring over and over.
How had they gotten to this armed camp, this closed vacuum where they went through the motions of living like... robots, as though someone wound them up every morning and they went through motions? She didn't really know... but dear lord, it had to stop somewhere, sometime.
It was like watching a play, Maeve thought- the correct Navy officers, the frumpy wives, the civilian professors all going through the fawning social maneuverings considered correct at receptions for visiting brass. All of it boiled down to elaborate constructions of little empires with each man the uncrowned emperor of his own. All of them were after power and prestige and recognition. From the lowliest lieutenant student studying for his master's degree to the boy-wonder visiting admiral. Maeve didn't think any of them really loved their work or wanted to do it for its own sake. Not the way she loved her painting.
Carl was putting on his charm act for the admiral... and Carl had charm when he wanted to. Tenacious charm. She watched him across the room. The brilliant smile, the easy manner, the deference. He'd fooled her with it. Convinced her he was a genius and needed only her for a wife to change the whole world for the better. Well, he hadn't changed anything except her. Taken her paint brushes out of her hands and her good salaried job at Lassie Magazine and put her to work scrubbing floors and caring for two babies that came too soon. Later she'd even had to take a job as well, as a secretary, to see him through his doctorate at Harvard. Now, she was jolly well not going to give up her painting. She'd earned it... the hard way.
"You need a drink. You're dry." She turned to find Harry Neil taking her empty glass from her. Funny old Harry that Carl was so wary of and jealous of since Harry made full professor.
"Not for long, Harry. I feel so lousy tonight I may cry." She laughed, looking up at his skinny homely face that went with his long narrow body.
"Then by all means let's cry in our booze together. The only way I can get through one of these receptions is to get bombed." It was the longest speech she'd ever heard him make, and she wondered if he was already bombed as she watched him make his way across the polished floor with their drinks, dodging people artfully, but never taking his eyes from her. Certainly, he'd never looked at her that way before. Maeve felt absolutely naked by the time he handed her the drink. She clutched her handbag and gloves and juggled her drink so as to pull her stole higher across her breasts that tingled as though his eyes had been lips. My God, what was the matter with Harry? What was the matter with her?
Partly it was Carl, who hadn't touched her for three months now. She'd pretended it didn't matter. After that last big fight over how Carl liked it, he hadn't touched her at all. That was fine, she told herself. She would not be treated like a whore, a hired whore. But... for the first time she realized she also didn't like being a nun. Harry's eyes slid over her like hands and made her feel desirable, voluptuous.
"Coming down to Bendemeer's Stream this weekend?" Harry asked huskily. Maeve looked away from him into the crowd, not daring to meet his eyes now. She shook her head and shrugged her shoulders.
"I'm not sure, Harry."
"We could commiserate with each other." His hand slid under her upper arm and it was just as though his warm hand were a brand against her bare skin. She jumped as though burned, and part of her drink spilled down the front of her dress. It was icy where it dribbled down between her breasts. She was confused and angry and hurt and upset... and felt as though she really might cry any minute.
"Oh... oh, here, Harry." She handed him her drink, clutched her stole even higher and tighter and swept blindly across the floor to the ladies' room. She didn't know what she'd do when she got there, but she rushed determinedly toward it. God, what was happening to her? Poor Harry who wouldn't hurt a fly suddenly made her feel like rape was imminent. He asked if they were going down to the trailer camp for the weekend... as they often did during the summer... and she acted as though he'd made a lewd suggestion. What the hell was the matter with her?
Well, for one thing Carl had dashed all her lovely feelings about her painting. She'd felt guilty about forgetting the damn reception... and not only that, she was pretty sure Betty Lunsford was making time with Carl. She felt used and abused and unlovely... and her own husband hated her. Hated her. She knew he did. What had happened? What in heaven's name had happened?
Stop this, she told herself. Stop it right now. But her eyes filled with tears of self-pity and she looked down at the polished floor so no one could see... praying she was close to the ladies' room.
Suddenly two strong hands caught her shoulders as she almost collided with a uniformed man.
"Whoa, there, young lady."
"Oh, I'm so sorry," she mumbled and lifted her tear-filled eyes to a very tall handsome man in Navy uniform. Lean hawk face with steel-gray eyes and an amused quirk at the corner of a sensuous mouth. He looked like a Hollywood version of the stalwart Navy officer. He was using those penetrating gray eyes to probe her face acutely... he was... oh my God... he was the Admiral. Admiral Grandfield. Oh, no! Carl would never forgive her if she did something stupid now.
"You're the loveliest little live thing I've seen all evening in this mausoleum," he smiled down at her.
"You're very kind... thank you... I... so good of you, Admiral," she mumbled incoherently, breaking away and walking swiftly through the ladies' room door. She found an empty booth, locked the door and leaned gratefully against it, letting the tears flow silently down her face. Oh, God. Oh, God damn!
Her stole really wasn't warm enough on the way home, but Maeve didn't want to interrupt Carl's sudden spate of chatter to ask him to turn the heater on. His mood seemed to have changed for the better, and he was talking grandiosely about the Admiral's interest in his work.
"He was amazed I had done my thesis on Introducing Change in an Established Hierarchy. You see that's just what he's interested in doing for the Navy. He understands the absolute futility of the authoritarian structure in the world we live in today."
"Did you tell him about the book you're writing?" she asked, wondering what had changed his mood so abruptly.
"Well, no. Right now he wants techniques, actions, blueprints. Can you imagine? He'd never even heard of an off-site?"
"Neither have I. What's an off-site?" She huddled down on the leather seat and shivered.
"Hey, baby. You're cold. Here." Carl flipped the heater and reached over to pull her crossed thighs closer to him. "Slide over here." His hand began sliding up and down her silken thigh.
"An off-site is where people get away from their usual environment and explore with each other how they really feel." Maeve stiffened involuntarily. It had been so long since he'd touched her... and after the last few months she just didn't know how to react... or even how she wanted to react. His hand had come around her shoulder and slid inside the neck of her dress. Her skin crawled as his fingers inched down and insinuated inside her bra. What was he going to expect? His hand curled around her breast, and she felt an electric charge jolt through her.
"Right now, for instance, I feel like having you unzip my pants and skin my prick down."
Why did he have to talk that way? He made her feel dirty, unclean, and degraded. She wriggled uneasily.
"But you used the word 'off-site' as though it were a technical term... sort of jargon pertaining to your work."
"It is. Normally means a group of executives who have a kind of encounter in a place removed from office or home... usually a motel."
"Oh, I see. The Admiral wants to use this for officers or something?"
"Come on. Where's your hand?" Her distraction tactics hadn't worked after all. She heard him unzip his pants himself. Then Maeve felt him grab her hand and wrap it around his hot hard penis that jutted into her hand like a thick, throbbing cable. Oh, God, she'd forgotten how huge his penis was. She had had no real means of comparison, but she felt it must be disproportionately large for a man of his stature. Her old Negro nurse at home had warned her. "Miss Maeve, you ain't goin' to marry that little bitty Mr. Carl, is you? 'Cause, I can tell you from my own 'sperience... those little bitty men'll kill you. I knows. I got six kids."
Maeve shuddered, holding Carl's huge penis gingerly, as though it could impregnate her through her hand. He had almost killed her, too. She'd have six kids now herself if it weren't for the pill. As it was she had two-too soon and too close together. He'd been at her day and night it seemed for years until about a year or two ago. When his promotions didn't come through... when he'd been passed over... and had gotten shrill and obstinate with the other professors... and mean and contrary and demanding with her. Demanding impossible, sick sexual acts from her and flying into furies about her art as he had tonight.
"Hold it like you like it, baby. Skin it for me." Obediently she tightened her grip, though she was beginning to feel sick. Oh, God, what was the matter with him? What was the matter with her? This was her husband. She was supposed to love him... but he made her feel like a... thing... an object... a chattel... a whore.
Maeve felt the car climb the steep drive, and the headlights illuminated their carport. As the car engine died she could hear Carl's heavy breathing. He grabbed her and crushed his mouth on hers, stabbing his tongue into her mouth fiercely. When he started this way she just wanted to run. There was no tenderness, no preamble, no nothing. Just naked sex. He tore his mouth away finally as she fought for breath and before she could protest had shoved her face over his naked penis... putting her mouth on his throbbing, sticky member. "Suck my cock, baby. I'm going to teach you to suck cock yet." Oh, God, she was going to be sick. She knew it. The tip of his huge rod in her mouth made her want to gag. It was sick and depraved and unclean. She could feel the sticky ooze, and it tasted faintly sweet and pungent and nauseating. His hands held her head and forced her head lower till his huge thing was ramming the back of her throat and she was gagging. She twisted her head and wriggled and fought till she was free of it. "In the house," she gasped, and was out the door of the car before he could catch her.
Maeve flew into the house, so glad of the momentary reprieve that the nausea even left. Shaking, she tore into the bathroom and locked the door. For the second time in one evening she found herself crying in a locked bathroom. What was happening to her life? Finally she brushed her teeth three times and gargled and gargled. What was she going to do? You couldn't yell for help or call the police and say, "My husband is about to rape me." What did you do?
She was aware to her shame that even amid her nausea and her tears and real fright and disgust there was also an eerie, ethereal excitement that was skimming just under the surface of her mind somewhere. Carl hadn't touched her in so long now and she hadn't really realized that she was taut and strung to a strange thin-strung wire of need and anticipation until Harry had looked at her and touched her arm tonight. She knew men built up an unbearable sexual need when deprived, but she had never thought that women might too until tonight. It wasn't the incredible urgency that screamed for relief in a man, but perhaps it only waited for the moment when opportunity presented itself.
Her mind raced and her heart pounded and somehow her tears dried and she became calmer. Even a kind of plan half formed. She might avoid the dirty sex she feared if she could somehow seduce him into the normal kind that she was used to and could at least partially enjoy.
Maeve unlocked the bathroom door and flew to lock the bedroom door before he came in. She heard him locking the kitchen door, she thought, so she called out, "I'm making myself beautiful. I'll let you in... in just a minute."
There was no answer, but she assumed that was assent.
A sudden thought stopped her cold. How could you seduce your own husband when you didn't even own a naughty nighty... or any kind, for that matter. Only prim simple pajamas lay folded in her bureau. She'd always felt black nightgowns were so obvious and so somehow insulting to a man's intelligence. She'd never wanted him to be swayed by her flesh alone. She'd wanted Carl to love her for herself... and to show that love for her body only as an expression of what he felt for her... soul?
She rummaged frantically through her drawers, trying to think of something. There was that old piece of lace that had been her wedding veil, but it was just a piece of lace. Her hand touched a roll of pink. What was that? Her old pink leotard from ballet exercise classes she'd gone to last fall. Well, it would have to do. Frantically she undressed and pulled it on.
The bathroom full-length mirror showed her a very beautiful woman. The leotard was cut high on the thigh so that her legs looked incredibly long and perfectly formed. Her buttocks were just barely covered by the thin nylon, and the "V" where her legs joined in front was emphasized. Her pubic mound plainly showed. The stretchy nylon fabric showed every curve and enhanced it. But the neck. Sexy things were supposed to have low necks. Well, she'd fix that! She grabbed the bathroom scissors and cut. When she'd finished, the neck was split in a long V that ended at her navel and her ripe breasts threatened to spill completely out of the opening. Yes, that was better. Inspired now, she pulled the peony out of the vase on the bathroom counter and pinned it right at the end of the "V" over her navel. Yes. That was what it needed.
Maeve crept out, heart hammering now. Where was he? The dining room was dark, but a faint light showed from the living room.
"Carl?" Now that she'd dressed in this damn thing she felt foolish. Would he laugh or be sarcastic?
"Well, milady of the manor has decided to come out of her ivory tower?" She whirled to find Carl sunk in a deep easy chair with a drink in his hand. He sounded funny... and he was devouring her with his eyes, but strangely. Oh, God, he sounded mean again. Was he drunk?
She'd have to brave it out. "I... I was only dressing... for you, darling." She tried to laugh. Hell, how did you seduce men anyhow?
"Or rather undressing." She whirled in a pirouette as she'd learned in ballet class. "Isn't it grand to have the whole house to ourselves? I could never dress like this with the children here."
"You wire mother," he spat at her. "You don't care any more for the kids than you do for me." She stood clutching her arms around her waist as though he'd wounded her literally. How could he be such a beast sometimes? Wire mother, he'd called her. She knew full well what he meant... surrogate mother... dummy mother... like those cloth and wire things the scientists devised to put with baby monkeys as mother substitutes... and the poor little monkeys loved them even though the wire couldn't love them back. Suddenly she was furious... blindly, hotly furious.
"How dare you talk to me that way! I've had all I can take from you for one day." She turned and fled, humiliated, hurt and shaking with anger. He caught her before she'd gone three steps... grabbing her by the arms from behind and shaking her.
"Oh, no you don't, bitch! I know you better than you know yourself! You thought you'd get it your way as usual... a little bit of ladylike submission to a little bit of ladylike fucking! Well, not this time! This time, it's going to be my way!" Maeve felt and heard Carl through a maze of pain that was clutching at her abdomen... the pain of humiliation and anger and fright... and terror that he'd seen through her. But why should he force her to have to try to seduce him? Why couldn't he be a normal husband instead of a sick, depraved frustrated failure? Yes. Failure. She'd never admitted the word even to herself before, but she did now.
She felt his arm catch her knees and carry her through to the bedroom. She struggled and tried to slap his face, but he was too strong. The tears were pouring down her cheeks now, and she sobbed out her anger and pain and hopelessness.
He threw her on the bed and she curled up in a ball, shaking with sobs and hiding her head in the pillow. Never in all the ten years they'd been married had he ever been such a maniac, and she was terrified... physically terrified. If he pulled out a gun or a knife to kill her she wouldn't be surprised.
"You god damned self-sacrificing bitch... punching my buttons till I'm a frustrated bundle of nerves." He was tearing his clothes off and flinging them away. "Well, this is one night, baby, we're going to do things my way... how I want it, when I want it, and for as long as I want it."
A sharp stinging pain struck her right buttock as he slapped her hard, yelling, "Turn over, bitch!" He grabbed her and turned her himself, then grasped her leotard and shredded it from neck to crotch.
"Oh, Carl, please," she sobbed! "Please don't do this." She wasn't frightened now, she just lay sobbing as he cursed and yanked and ripped her pathetic attempt to look sexy for him... till she was lying naked and defenseless in ribboned shreds of pink leotard. He rolled her from side to side, pulling the last of the shreds away till she was completely, utterly, totally naked.
"Now." She opened her eyes to see him straddle her body, holding the long heavy-veined thickness of his rigid thrusting penis that he waved like a huge knobbed weapon. It jutted from his hairy powerful loins in obscene enormity. She shuddered involuntarily... and the shudder rippled over her creamy skin, making goose bumps mar its satiny surface as she stared at him in horror. He clutched that thrusting stalk of hard, hot flesh and began to lewdly stroke the foreskin over the mammoth glistening head... his eyes boring into her like hot pokers as she watched him do it. He was enjoying masturbating... but more he was enjoying masturbating with her eyes seemingly frozen on him in repellent fascination. Oh, no! This couldn't be real. It was a nightmare that couldn't be really happening.
In terror she watched him reach out with the other hand and open the brown-haired lips of her vulva, and she felt him move the head of that huge bloated rod and insert it at the upper end till it rested right on her clitoris with a heavy pressure that sent sparks of pleasure coursing through her despite her fear.
"That's where you want it, baby. That's where it could do you some good." He moved the head across her clitoris in a tiny circular massaging motion that caused her pelvis to arch up closer without her permission. "But you're not going to get it there. You're going to suck my cock, baby. For the first time in ten lousy years of marriage... you're going to suck it dry and swallow my seed till you drown in my boiling juices."
"Please... please, Carl... don't do this to us." She held her hands out helplessly to him in a futile gesture of implorement... but he was tracing her belly with the sticky head now... sliding it up her body in lascivious tracings. Then he jammed the sticky glistening head right into one pink nipple, pushing it into the lush fullness of her white breast. Unbidden, her nipple hardened immediately beneath his cock ramming it. It budded to a closed little rock of desire. Then he hardened the other soft pink nipple the same way.
A rising wave of hate for him rose up in her... hate for him and an engulfing self-pity. She thought frantically of fighting like a tigress, at least clawing him good before he used her like a street whore.... but the lusting, brutal, vicious contortions of his face let her know it was useless. He would kill her. She knew it. Some strange mechanism was at work... as though her body opted for survival at any price... not caring how horrible or how degrading.
"Now open your mouth and take it." He shoved the huge thing right to her chin, his legs straddling her fully lush breasts. She could see every vein of the pulsing blunt-nosed instrument of his cock, every wet glistening detail of the rutting, weeping, eyed head. "No... no... I won't," she cried through clenched teeth as her stomach heaved again in nausea.
"Oh, yes, bitch! You'll suck it... every drop! Goddamn you! Pretend it's a work of art!" His hand tangled in her hair to jerk her head upright, and his knees cruelly pinioned her arms. "I'm going to make you the best little cocksucker in town! You're going to give your undivided attention to sucking my cock! Take it, you bitch," he snarled savagely.
It would be better to die, she thought wildly. Insanely she fought then, writhing in fury and humiliation beneath him, tears of degradation streaming down her cheeks and her breath coming in the tortured sobs of terror and pain. Even as she fought him she knew it was in vain, that the unbelievable lurid madness of their obscene struggle could only end in one way... his way.
He let go of his rod and slapped her hard... first one cheek and then the other. "Take it in your mouth, you goddamn bitch!" he screamed, jerking her head by the hair and slapping her with his other punishing hand. Suddenly she went limp beneath him. She couldn't struggle any longer.
Maeve heard his breath coming in heaving rasps as her arms numbed painfully under his knees, while his lean, hard buttocks flattened her soft breasts and his mammoth cock rested again on her chin. Slowly, with closed wet eyes, she raised her tear-streaked face and opened her mouth receptively.
"You goddamned whore!" Carl spat out viciously, drawing his knees back off her painfully numbed arms. "Hold it and lick it! Lick all of it, cock, balls, everything... and don't stop till I tell you to or I'll beat hell out of you! We're going to find out... once and for all... if you give a damn... if we've got a marriage at all! Now... start licking!"
Carl's good-looking face was a mask of grotesque, enraged lust as he watched the naked, subservient loveliness of his terrified wife slowly extend her trembling little hands toward her jerking, heavy cock. A hot sensation of feeling jolted through the fleshy rod, echoing in his throat in a choking grunt as her slender fingers touched it and then encircled it. Damn her! Damn her to hell! He'd show her once and for all. It was either make it or break it... he was going to be her husband or he wasn't. Christ! The feel of her hand on his hot long prick, against her will, incited jagged flashes of carnality to surge through him, blinding him to everything but the chastising degradation he was determined to carry out.
The near-overwhelming bitterness and dejection, the sudden fear, that had driven her to defend herself against his depraved attack were changing to lurid fermentations bubbling through her loins and belly at the feel of his steel-hard, warm throbbing shaft in her grasping hand. She didn't want to feel any of that, and she whimpered aloud at the thought. The sight and presence of his long rigid cock in her hand only inches from her face was blotting out other conscious feelings.
"Lick it, damn you!" Carl snarled, jerking her lips closer to his swollen cock. "All the puking and begging you can do isn't going to get you off this time. I'm your husband, baby, and you're going to give my cock your undivided attention. Lick it!"
"Ohhh... God... Carl." Maeve sobbed. For a brief moment, panic swept her as she realized there was no escape. He was going to make her perform the perverted act, but she sought to prolong the terrible moment of atonement as she continued to stroke the thick prick, feeling him groan and writhe as she drew back the foreskin from the wet head, exposing the throbbing glans, then pulling the thick outer flesh up and down, her mind narrowing on the lewdness of her forced participation... until finally there was nothing else except the huge, thrusting cock in her tiny hand, her fingers hardly going around it. Then... she moved her almost-hypnotized face toward it.
Maeve heard Carl choke in carnal anticipation. She reached out her tiny tongue and hesitantly touched the tip, and he moaned and shuddered. Then she twirled her tongue around it experimentally, and he moaned again and clutched both her ripe breasts in his hands. She held her breath and touched her tongue-tip to the little damp slit in the end of his cock, and the pungent taste of his seminal fluid miraculously didn't make her sick this time. A strange sense of excitement washed through her. Her hands stroked downward as her tongue tasted and twirled around the tip, and she found the soft sac of his balls, bloated and heavy with semen she knew she would have to drink and swallow. She didn't know if she could, but the thought did not make her gag as it had before. She licked along the soft underside of his rigid cock and then slowly back to the rim, down to the velvety base and back again, down and then over the full sac of his testicles... as he'd commanded. His groans of pleasure told her she was doing it right.
Her hands caressed in her tongue's wake in a strange slavelike devotion now, and she drew the foreskin back with both hands... pulled her head away briefly to look at the ponderous head standing up so huge and sleekly naked... and then she took it in her mouth... wholly within her soft eager mouth, letting the hot shaft slide the length of her tongue as her mouth absorbed more and more of it.
Carl groaned above her, watching in rapt fascination as Maeve's beautiful mouth sucked and licked his long aching prick. He took a perverse pleasure in watching her suck him after ten long years of waiting and hoping and praying and even begging. Still suspicious of her motives despite the incredible slavelike labor she was performing for him in the pagan ritual of fellatio he'd longed for... he couldn't stop the sensation of joy that was spreading through him from cock to belly to heart and head. She was eating him! That luscious angel was trying to get all his great throbbing cock in her mouth at once! A wave of unbidden tenderness swept through him, and he reached down to stuff pillows behind her and take her beautiful face in his hands.
Slowly he undulated his hips, sliding his long wet pulsing cock, wet from her warm tender-skinned mouth, in and out of that lovely mouth in a lustful rocking rhythm and a damp sucking sound. Her hand still clung to his lewdly swollen hard cock, and he guided it in and out of that cavern of delight by thrusting forward with his hips and pulling her even deeper onto his massive prick by holding her head in his hands and pulling it to him so that her ovalled mouth puffed obscenely with the burden. As she toiled in meek subservience with fervent bobbing motions, he couldn't resist shoving his throbbing cock between her soft lips with mounting fury... nor could he contain the almost evil smile of dominating lust with each thrust into her sucking receptive mouth.
Maeve's cheeks still burned from the violent face slapping Carl had administered, and her breasts still felt bruised and her arms ached where he had knelt. She couldn't remember ever feeling so completely and utterly punished... so ashamed and sordidly humbled... but there were strange sensations of intemperate lasciviousness growing in her soft little belly and loins. These strange sensations shamed her even more, for they suggested she might be enjoying this lewd labor that had been forced on her.
She hung possessively to his prick and balls with her small hands, and the tears still trickled down her cheeks, but an unfathomable joy began to race insanely through her. Amazingly her vagina and her vulva began to grow moist and excited between her squeezing thighs as she explored every ridge and wrinkle with her tongue licking ferally at the blood-filled head of his cock.
Carl stared at the elastic sucking of his beautiful wife's lips on his throbbing prick as he thrust his loins back and forth, fucking her tender mouth with a building mania. Her ripe lips contorted, clinging to his thickened shaft with rapt attention. He watched the tiny ridges of pink flesh pull out as he withdrew, then disappear when he shoved forward, sinking the head of his cock almost into her throat, the wiry hairs of his pelvis almost touching her pert little nose. Christ! She was sucking him with feeling, eating his prick like it was sugar and she was starving! Oh God, she'd be satiated with the load he could feel damming up in his balls... a meal that would fill her for a week.
"Eat your fill, baby. All you want... suck it good!"
Obediently Maeve sucked on the massive bloated penis harder than ever, instinctively making her mouth as small as possible to increase the pressure that was driving him insane with the lascivious bliss that she'd denied him so long. In her unbridled desire, she sucked it so deeply into the hot saliva-filled cavity of her mouth that it nearly choked her, but she caught her breath and ran her tongue feverishly up and down the soft sensitive underside, feeling it throb and pulse to her touch and tasting the tangy spice of its heady fluid.
She massaged his heavy balls with subservient affection as he moved up and down... in and out of her sucking mouth in a lashing, building rhythm... and she could hear his moaning ragged breath coming now almost in sobs. As he built higher and higher, she found her own desire catching in a zigzag of flaming little sensations that raced along her veins in a lustful minor key. Oh God. She did love him! Her hips writhed on the bed and her legs alternately spread and squeezed together and she was aware of an aching void that needed filling.
In this maddening lusting sucking nirvana that was her beautiful mouth on his hard aching blood-filled prick, Carl sensed that she was beginning to need him as much as he needed her. He stroked and caressed her ripened breasts, kneading and squeezing them, pinching the nipples to red little berries of erotic flame. Then with one hand still full of her heavy breast, he reached behind him and found her hair-covered pubic mound and insinuated a finger down the slit to find that she was moist and slippery with the flowing of her delicious juices readying her passage for him. The thought of her passionate flowing that had happened as she sucked voraciously on his near-bursting heavy cock stalk sent a salacious message of incredible lust surging through his brain and gut. He slipped his finger in and out of her silky slippery wanting vagina, and she arched and moaned in responsive appreciation, cunt up to finger and mouth on cock.
Maeve couldn't believe that she could ever enjoy a degraded act, but she knew now it was because she'd been so ignorant. Eagerly now and hungrily she sucked and licked Carl's beautiful erect wet and pulsing cock that throbbed in her mouth and jerked with the joy she was bringing him. Then she felt his finger delicately part her vulva lips and slide down and into her aching wanting passage. Pleasure flooded her in waves and ripples along her skin, her veins and through the depths of her soft little belly. Her breasts felt as though they were visibly swelling from inside out like fruit bursting with a ripening sun. It was beautiful... oh God... so good! She sucked harder on his wonderful throbbing delicious cock, and her pelvis arched up to his finger.
Suddenly Carl began to ease his cock from Maeve's working mouth. "Oh... no, darling, please... please, I want it. I want to suck you till you cum in my mouth. Please, darling," she begged.
"You'll get it back in a minute, baby. I've got to have your sweet little pussy." Carl kissed and nibbled her face, slithering down to lie on her, then plunged his tongue in her mouth and tasted his own cock there, and then he worked his way down her white and naked soft loveliness, stopping to individually lick and nibble and suck her beautiful swelling breasts, then burying his face against the silklike flesh of her warm little bowl of belly, stabbing hotly with his tongue into her navel.
Then Maeve sensed what he was going to do, and her brain reeled at the thought in erotic anticipation. Suddenly she felt his hands, the strong palms pressing against the softness of her inner thighs, moving them wider apart, and her breath caught in her chest as she waited with overwhelming desire and an ambiguous fear of what was about to happen.
Maeve lurched and groaned and shuddered as his hot moist lips closed over the mound at the base of her belly. She felt him lavish taunting kisses on the hair-lined edges of her pussy... tender and gentle kisses all around the lips of her cunt... until his tongue parted the soft brown hair and began to snake out at the delicate opening.
"OOOOOHHHHHH... ooooohhhhh, Carl, darling! Oh, yessssss, love me... forgive me...!" Every muscle in Maeve's body tightened uncontrollably to the wildly pleasurable licking of her cunt and choking moans of incredible delight poured from her quivering mouth. GOD! GOD! GOD! I'll go mad with the ecstasy of it... the unbelievable lovely enchanting ecstasy of his mouth licking me there... where I never wanted him before. I'll never get enough of this ultimate, this apex of sexual love. Oh Carl! Forgive me for the bitch I've been... to deny you... to deny me. Oh, why haven't I done this... why did I ever stop him before...? Oh, I want his cock in my mouth again. OhHHHHH!
Her mind was blank to all else. There was nothing else but the whirling vortex of sensation that was setting her whole body aglow as it had never been before. Her hands slid down her breasts and satiny belly to his head and she caressed the hair. She could feel his panting hot breath against her pubic hair, and then she felt his fingers part the still-closed lips and lewdly spread her entrance till the whole quivering pink slit of her cunt was open to him. She heard him grunt deep in his throat lustfully, and then he dropped his head and drew his wet tongue up through the sensitive and exposed coral flesh of her flowing, flowering cunt.
"OH... OOOOOHHHHHHHH... darling... Carl, my darling... yessssssssss... oh God!"
Christ! Carl choked in his head. He still couldn't believe what was happening... the sudden impassioned abandon of Maeve... she was seized as he had never even dared hope she would be... it was beautiful! Whatever the combination was, he had to find it again and again. This was it... really it! He raised his head and looked his fill at the soft pink jewel of her cunt, open to him, so eager and quivering. Greedily he absorbed the breath-taking sight with the ravenous hunger of lust-filled eyes, spasms of delight swinging in him, and he ground his cock fitfully against the covers.
As though she could read his mind she gasped, "Oh, darling. I want your... I want you in my mouth again. Please." Yes. Yes... he wanted it, too.
"Come here, baby... come to daddy... you're my woman no matter what... a real woman now. Come here to daddy, baby." He turned her and drew her over him till he was lying on his back and her breasts were cradled against his belly and her beautiful head had access to his cock that jutted up like a knife in the dim light. He caught her rounded ass cheeks in his hands and pulled her over his face, then spread her wide and open till her cunt was just over his face and he had only to use his mouth. If anybody had told him that today could ever end like this he'd have told them they were mad. Oh Christ! He couldn't wait. He pulled her ass down to his face so her cunt was on his mouth, and he plunged his tongue, stabbing deeply into her sweet wet palpitating pussy just as her mouth slid onto his cock and dived over it, encasing the whole throbbing length in her warm eager mouth that took him like a heady draught of ambrosia.
"Agh... ummmm... oo... ggg... mmmmmm!" Maeve moaned around his great pulsating cock, and she sucked it fiercely and deeply into her throat as his tongue stabbed into the warm depths of her vitals. It was a sensation of such ecstatic shock that scintillating explosions of rapture shot through her. His tongue swirled and laved and ravished, thrusting deeply into the clinging walls of her soft, sucking, needing vagina. What a fool she'd been! Ten years of marriage, and she'd denied them both this heavenly, beautiful loving! How stupid and immature she'd been, and how patient and long-suffering of Carl to have put up with her this long. But now it was finished. It would be his way... for his way was opening a whole rapturous, enchanting world of luxurious, vibrant lovemaking for her.
"Mmmmmmm... oh, baby... you taste so good," Carl moaned tenderly, drawing his tongue from the top of her moist, juicy slit all the way to her asshole, slicing her with delight. His hips arched up to her greedy, voracious mouth that sucked more and more of his thick, throbbing mighty trunk, and he could feel the unbearable bloating of his balls, readying. Clutching her warm round little ass in his hands, he pulled her open flowing slick cunt deeper over his face, and he sucked and licked and plunged deeply with his hot hardened tongue. Tenderly he caught the tiny almond clitoris in his teeth and titillated it with his tongue in maddening little circles, and she ground down on his face in wild rotations of insane delight.
Lifting her head briefly, she screamed softly, "OOOOO... my darling... don't ever stop... soo... lovely... dearest... ohhhhhh!" What she was feeling was so unbelievable that her brain could not contain and digest and sort all of the myriad, sybaritic emotions that swamped her soul and gut. It was beyond her experience... so far beyond that she felt she had entered the edges of a new universe... and like all frontiers, it was overwhelming.
Carl could feel that she was straining to a climax that was going to shake her to her very depths. Never had she been so wanton and free and unfettered. Her ass rotated wildly, pushing her wet and pulsing cunt deeply on his gluttonous mouth while she ate his swollen rock prick in a fevered frenzy as though she was going to ingest his entire genitals, cock, balls and all! She was delicious and delectable and the most wonderful wife in the world! He could scream with the joy of knowing that he had a real woman! For the first time since they'd been married he felt like a real man. He was never going to get enough! The whole damn world was going to blast apart with their cumming!
She could feel her rising climax, and she slaved even harder on Carl's thick, blood-gorged stalk, for he must cum with her. He must! She wanted him to cum with a mighty roar in her mouth, and she wanted to suck him dry. His tongue was fucking her in a passionate, wild abandon and she felt his arms and hands clutch her whole naked ass in a vise that crushed her writhing cunt on his mouth and nose. Her belly lurched, and her nerves were drawn to an exquisite fine edge that was rising to a point of infinity. There! It was almost there! She couldn't stand much more! The agony was so acute and exquisite that she didn't think she'd be able to bear it!
"MMMMM... mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... ummmmmm!" Carl bobbed his nose and tongue frantically deep in her juicy cunt that was shuddering in spasms, and he could feel every muscle of her body ridge and cord. She was going to cum! He'd brought her off before, but never like this! She was losing her mind in the throes of a passion she'd never even known existed. The thought excited his own lust to a feverish pitch, and he bucked and arched to her mouth as wildly as she ground and pitched on his mouth. She was never going to forget this night. He'd make her cum... and cum... and... cum!
Maeve half screamed for her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat, and she gagged and choked on his cock as the explosion in her loins hit her with the force of a tidal wave. The thunderous cataclysm crashed over her, and she shook and clung and quaked with the spasms of seismic pleasure! Carl's tongue never stopped its insane manipulations... sucking her more greedily than ever... and miraculously... she was cumming again! Oh Christ! How could it be? His wild tongue played skillfully around the outer portions of her pulsating clitoris, and she never wanted him to stop!
"Oh darling! Lover!... lover! Keep doing it! Don't stop! I'm cumming... and cumming and cumming! Oh hurry, darling. Now! Cum with me!"
Carl felt the intricate organs of his inner manhood ferment at the peaking lewdness of her words, and her licentious plea was too much for him. It had to end soon... though he wanted it to go on forever!
Maeve had no conception of time or space. He series of climaxes had destroyed all other considerations... everything...! Her body felt as though it had been impregnated with a hundred million needles of pleasure! Her cunt drifted on a cloud of rapture! She felt she could cum again and again... and then she felt Carl's loins jerk up to her, the massive cock swelling in her voracious mouth... and suddenly he was cumming!... cumming with her! She was cumming again with him. Again!
Abruptly, wild spurts of creamy, teeming liquid, hot sweet, male fluid, gush after gush which she wasn't quite ready for shot into the back of her throat. Again and again, he spewed jets of his masculine cum deep in her throat, and she groaned as her own convulsive tremors erupted in a splendid burst of blinding, satisfying bliss! Fiendishly, she swallowed and sucked, her Adam's apple bobbing as she swallowed the flood of boiling hot semen squirting into her warm receptive throat.
"Goooooooooo... odddddddddd!" Carl gasped against her naked crotch, and his breath coming out with the expletive on her flesh sent fresh spasms through her body. Her head fell against the hard inside of his thigh, and her hips collapsed to one side so her thigh lay across his throat. His cock was still partly in her mouth, and it still pulsed faintly in twinges as it deflated slowly.
He could feel his rod shrinking, yet he wished vainly he could go after her again immediately. He pulled her thigh from his throat wearily and reached for her, and she turned around to come into his arms to be held like a child.
"Oh... my God," she said finally. "Carl, my darling... I... didn't know... my God..."
"Good for you, baby?... pretty good... yeh?"
"Oh, darling. I've been such a fool... can you forgive me?"
"Never mind that. Was it good?"
"... Good? Oh, darling... oh darling!" Maeve pressed her face tighter against his hairy chest and tightened her arm across him. He smiled in utter satisfaction and patted her bottom with his hand. They lay for a long time listening to their hearts pound in their chests and slowly ease back to normal speed.