Chapter 10
Chuck and Shorty were gloating over their victories. This night was turning out more entertaining than last weekend's foray with the stubborn little redhead who thought more of morality than life. Chuck could tell Shorty had his eyes on the redheaded one. And Blondie ... well, what challenge was she? Beautiful body ... Christ, what a body ... but no fight. He could read in Shorty's eyes that he was going to shove his hot aching cock into that gorgeous creature's pussy, going to feel the blood throbbing knob of his cock far up in her sweet little belly, going to screw her like a stuck bird and fuck her until she begged for her life ... just like he'd done to the Viet Cong back there in Nam. Those goddamned betraying whores ... pay them a week's salary for an opium high and a little cunt ... and they toss a hand grenade in your face! Those whores, those women who competed with men. Jesus, how he hated their guts!
Collapsed on the mattress beside Mae's shivering, semi-comatose satiny bumps and curves, Carla prayed to the forces above that the men had had their treat. Carla's eyelids fluttered in the pre-stages of sleep ... then she awoke with a start.
The cold steel of a knife blade slithering up the slender underside of her cum glistening thigh made her eyes fly open as if on springs. She lay heaving with gut wrenching anxiety. She tried to jerk away but the cold prodding was dangerously insistent. Chuck's rasping laugh made her turn her head to see whose hand held the blade. To this point Shorty had spoken little, a fact which surprised her; of the two, Shorty looked the most normal, but then one couldn't judge a mental state entirely by looks. The feeling something satanic lurked in his soul shivered through her.
Her eyes fled to Shorty. A fierceness burned there, born of repressed hatred and fear and a very real hatred of women. He terrified her-one look into his cold, steely eyes convinced her Shorty had singled her out, that she would be the star of tonight's cruel sex circus! She knew her life was in danger if she crossed him up. He grinned lopsidedly at her, showing off a set of dark teeth. No warmth brightened his grin; it was dark and ominous as his eyes and the idea that struck him. He was searching for an act that would leave its marks like a scorched brand on her brain. She could see the rusted wheels turn in his brain.
"Looks like Shorty there's taken a liking to you, hon," sneered Chuck. "You know, my buddy here's had a couple problems ... ain' been real good at gettin' it up since Nam. Now," and here Chuck turned diplomatic, "I'm gonna give ya a chance to live. I want you to get him hard, you hear ... I don' care what it takes, you get him hard ... and if you don' ..." He snickered and ran the knife under his own chin.
Carla's blood froze in her veins. Her fear-taut features turned to Mae for support. Carla gulped dryly, feeling her stomach knot. She, the inexperienced of the two women, forced into satisfying a demented man under the threat of death to both she and Mae!
Her fear-widened eyes fled to Shorty's leering grin. A wet grin spread over his face, a look of jubilation, when she realized what Chuck had in store for him.
Carla's shook her head dumbly. "I don't understand," she whispered meekly, a faint germlike notion of what these men were planning starting to ferment in the back of her mind. The idea of making love to these filthy creatures was too horrid to believe. She, who had never experienced oral sex with a man.
"You ... you can't do this to me!" she wailed. "Paul will be back here soon," she warned, her upper lip stiff and suddenly defiant. "This is kidnapping ... you could spend the rest of your days behind bars! Don't you understand that?" It was a plea, it was begging.
Mae touched her arm without looking up and said a dozen words with that single movement. Carla's mouth fell silent, her threat, in mid-sentence dying. They were alone with these two demented creatures and a knife ... and they were nothing more than sex slaves to them all until they had sated their lustful thirsts, until they'd drunk their fill of humiliating females. Carla felt her stomach sink. If she'd been stripped naked and paraded down Hollywood and Vine, she wouldn't have felt more cheap, more ashamed. She thought of Paul, thought of the moment when she would (hopefully) repeat this scene to him, and was sickened at the very idea. How could she possibly ever be his lover-his wife? How could she ever live with this degradation? Being forced into helping an impotent creature (and surely that must be his problem) into getting an erection, no matter what the psychic cost to herself.
"Git naked, Shorty, and show the gal yer stuff," chortled Chuck lewdly, a tinge of bitterness acrid in his voice. "Show 'em what those Cong whores done to your prick!"
Carla clenched shut her eyes, listening dumbly to the whine of his pants zipper, the swoosh of denim as he yanked the Levi's down over his stubby hips. She felt the blood rise to her cheeks and sing in her ears, and when she had gulped down disgust and garnered the courage to peek through the curtain of auburn hair hanging about her shoulders, she thought she might faint.
His penis could not have measured more than a few inches at best. Scarred with red streaks and diminished to a few flaps of skin, it hung pathetically above where his testicles should have. More scars along the insides of his thighs attested to the maiming results of a hand grenade's fury. How a man with such a deformity could ever have an erection again, was a scientific marvel. And now it was up to her to play Florence Nightingale, if they wanted to keep their heads on their shoulders. She wished he would plunge the knife through her heart right then and get it over with! It was inevitable. She realized beyond a doubt that he would not hesitate to kill her if she refused his slightest whim; her eyes fled pleadingly to Mae, but Mae's eyes reflected defeat; she could offer her no relief, no consolation. There was nothing to do but pray.
"You didn' have no trouble gettin' a woman hard," he sneered. "Let's see what you can do for my buddy here, Shorty. Watchin' you whores go down on each other got my buddy all riled up ... now you damned well better do somethin' about it."
Carla swallowed down pride and looked at the short man who was crawling up on the mattress just in front of her, his face alight with anticipation. He licked his lips with the point of his foul smelling tongue. Aside from the scars on his genitals, his stomach had been ripped to shreds. Zigzagged scars crosshatched it. His navel was off center, a chunk of his hip bone missing, giving him a stubby, appearance and was responsible for the limp in his walk.
"Come on!" barked Chuck.
Gulping down disgust and shame, Carla climbed atop the mattress and Mae slithered off. Chuck slammed the blonde woman into a reclining chair near the front of the van and held the knife to her throat. "You wanna see baby face here bleed all over this van?"
Maybe yesterday Carla would have had no problems wishing that upon the woman who'd stolen her boy friend, but this was no silly love triangle, no game. This was beyond war, beyond imagination. She reached out tentatively to touch his stomach. The clammy skin, almost reptilian, made her shiver.
"No! Please ... I can't ... you don't understand ... I'm not a whore! I'm not a whore!" Her cries reverberated off the van walls. But Chuck wasn't moved; the knife was an inch from Mae's temple now and the cold mask of savagery on his scarred face told her she had better begin her task.
"Jus' give him a blow job ..."
Mae suddenly lunged upward. But Chuck was too quick for her agile reflexes. He spun around in a blinding fast twist of his body and caught her with his free hand and threw her back into the chair. "Okay, Blondie," he spat between his teeth. "One more stupid move like that and you'll both get it!" He knotted his knobby fingers in her blonde hair and twisted it until she knelt at his feet, her head turned upward and her face contorted in pain.
"You shouldn't a done that!" he growled. "Somebody's gonna pay for that!" An idea hit. "I just might get you into red's act here ... maybe you could suck his asshole. I have a feeling you'd like that!" He turned back to Carla. "I said suck!"
Carla stared at the lewdly glistening stump and at the grenade-gouged base where the remainder of his hairy testicles dangled impotently. She saw it, but her mind refused to record it; it seemed impossible that anyone could demand this awful act of her ... a woman who had never performed oral sex on a man.
Trembling with fear and repulsion, Carla slowly reached out to touch the reddened hunk of flesh between her fingers. Shorty squirmed eagerly at her soft touch.
Chuck was right there guiding her. "Keep your head turned so I can see the look on your face."
The tall tormentor was the kingpin of the operation, that was easy to see; and he used his friend's sexual deformities as a detraction for his own horrid disfigurement. Carla tried to close her thoughts to this, to focus on something else, on Paul maybe ... something healthy and normal. No, she'd never sucked his penis before, had found it disgusting and unnatural. How she wished she had! The spasms of reeling nausea tearing her stomach apart were growing more intense now. With every muscle in her body fighting her, she placed her face on the man's warm stomach, her fingers encircling the shaft of his tapered penis. It struck her in a flash of disgust that his penis looked much like the family dog Toby's. Long, narrowly tapered, red. Slowly, as Chuck egged her on, she studied the pink gleaming tip that oozed now from the tiny hole at the top and slowly moved it forward until it was less than an inch from her lips. She was heaving with deep gasping breaths as she fought down the choking ball of nausea in her throat.
"Jesus Christ, ain' you got ears!" barked Chuck.
Carla submitted with a whimper, pushing every confused thought from her mind and opened her lips slightly and let the tapered tip slip into her mouth, over her quivering lips. The stubby hunk of male flesh snaked far back over her tongue, its smooth shaft gliding easily over her moist lips. The taste shocked her ... it was tangy, not dirty as she'd imagined that part of a male's body to taste. A tang of sweat fragranced it, like after a bout of love making.
The short man responded with a twitch, his back arching and breath raising and falling on his chest as she hunched forward to sink his cock into the warm depths of her throat. She sensed Chuck hovering over her, checking her actions; quickly she feigned enthusiasm, giving Shorty's prick a kittenish lick from the stubby base to the tapered tip. Shamed beyond belief, she swallowed down pride as she twirled the man's pink cock around in her mouth as it began to throb and wriggle. Shorty was ecstatic.
"Rub his balls," grated Chuck. "I think Shorty might like that."
Carla didn't protest this time. So far so good. She moved her hand down to cup and lightly caress the furry meatball-sized testicles with her nails, brushing over them to bring a long, low whine from his throat. Somehow it was becoming less repulsive with every passing moment.
That thought registered in her mind searingly. want to live, she told herself, I want to live ... that's why I'm acting like a whore!
Her mind was a blank sheet, forgetful of her own vulnerabilities as she concentrated on the degrading act. Buttocks high in the air, she knelt over Shorty's body, her still moist pussy lips open and unguarded from behind as her ass cheeks wiggled and squirmed in unintentional invitation to Chuck.
Chuck snickered to himself, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and reached over to secure the lock on the van door. Mae lay crumpled at his feet, sobbing hysterically. With the toe of his army boot, he kicked her so that she rolled over onto her back.
"Get outta my way," he grumbled. "I wan' a little piece a red here ... an don't try no funny stuff or you know what's gonna happen to that baby face!" he warned, hissing through clenched teeth.
Carla couldn't see him as he stood behind her, but he quickly yanked down the zipper, and stepped out of his dirty pants. His cock jutted out and stood at right angles to the ceiling. Roughly, he pulled back the loose yielding skin from his penis and let the purplish knob see what a treat it had coming. Like it had a mind of its own, his long penis leapt forward and snaked between the soft, round globes of Carla's naked buttocks.
Carla stiffened, recoiling in horror at the warm, rubbery feel of her rapist's penis drubbing at her genitals. She knew that he wasn't alone behind her ... he had his knife with him. His cock jutted forward as he crawled up tight against her trembling buttocks crevice and dragged it slowly and tauntingly along the juicy furrow of her pussy, spreading the gentle pink lips with the throbbing head of his orgasm as her own juices glistened the way for him. He pulled it back through the moist slit again, then touched the swollen lust-inflated head to the tightly puckered rim of her pussy hole, his hands roughly clamped to the curve of her hips.
"Stick it in, whore ... put it in or else!"
"Damn kid came in here, bought some beer and a bottle a booze and took off without payin'!" The grocer shook a bony finger at the patrol man. "I don' care much for these outta towners, no I don't one bit! I want my seven dollars and fifty-nine cents. He's looking for a ride back to Johnson Road. Camping illegally, too."
The patrolman held up a hushing hand. "Don' worry, Pops, I'll go find the guy ... I know where his car is, picked 'em up myself."
Down the road, halfway to Johnson Road, Paul was frantic. He'd managed to stop a car but now the driver thought he was crazy.
"Take my car ... its a new MGB ... it's yours, just give me a ride to Johnson Road."
The driver of the station wagon regarded the man cryptically and shook his head. "Sorry ... I got kids in the back seat ... don't wanna take chances with strangers."
Paul's knuckles turned white as he clutched the half open window on the driver's side, his head level with the middle aged man on the other side. "Here, take my wallet ... take my credit cards, I'd give you my wife if I had one. Just give me a ride down the road!"
The window rolled up and in a screech of tires the driver tore off, leaving Paul stranded and insane with worry and guilt.
Paul kicked a chunk of loose pavement and let loose a stream of expletives that would have made the angels cry. He tore at his hair, cursed himself, cursed fate, and turned then as a splash of car headlights rounded the corner. The black and white symmetry decorated with red light atop the car was unmistakable. As a street hood in his teens, he'd grown to abhor police cars, but now he could kiss this one.
"Hey ... you?" The policeman stuck his head out the window. "You the guy who ripped off Pops for seven dollars and fifty-nine cents?"
"Yeah!" grinned Paul, ear to ear. "I was wondering when you would show up!"