Chapter 4

Waking from her nap, Terri felt completely refreshed and rejuvenated, her whole body singing of good heath and well-being. She felt wonderful, wonderful and happy as she stretched, luxuriously, on the huge bed.

She was hungry. That morning she had had only a bite of breakfast; she couldn't eat for worry about the debt to the Continental. Then lunch had been skipped, because there had been no time to eat while she had been with Pauline. Again, the memory of that brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. Was it possible that it all had happened?

Dining out was out of the question tonight, she decided, since her husband was out of town. She wondered if he had cancelled their dinner reservations, decided finally that he surely would have done so as soon as he knew he would be leaving town. She put it out of her thoughts. Never mind, perhaps there were some leftovers in the kitchen. She knew that the frugal Greta was always putting away little bits his young stepmother! Gro-o-o-o-o-vy. of this and that. At least, she would not go hungry: if necessary, she would send out for something prosaic such as pizza. That was an idea. She felt like she could eat a whole pizza by herself. I

Soon, Terri was dressed comfortably and went downstairs. She found Peter in the living room in front of the color television set. He had purposely placed himself there so that he would be sure to see her when she came downstairs. Glancing up, he smiled at her with his ever-present, "Groovy!"

"Are you hungry, Peter?" she asked. "I was just thinking about a big pizza!"

"Groovy man!" he agreed, "with beer!" "Mmmm. Make mine coffee." "I'd even consent to go out and get it..." this from Peter, amiably.

"No need to ... we can have it delivered. I'll perk up some coffee in the kitchen." "And I'll check on the beer!" he said. Terri ordered the pizza, made the coffee and when the sizzling-hot pizza arrived they ate ravenously. Their conversation was light, relaxed, and Terri found herself enjoying the company of her stepson. It seemed that some of the barriers had been bridged.

Peter leaned back, finally satisfied. "Groovy," he said, "I'd dig some of that coffee now."

"All right..." Terri was on her feet heading for the kitchen, carrying a clean cup for him. "Cream or sugar?" "Black, please."

It was time. Quickly, he broke the hidden capsule over her cup, stiring the crystals as they dissolved in the amber coffee. He sat back again, heaving an inward sigh. It was done! Now it was only a matter of time, time for the drug to take effect, and he, Peter, would be in complete control... complete control!

Later, exactly how much later she didn't know, Terri Marklin awoke with a splitting headache. She remembered ... she had become terribly sleepy, had actually gone to sleep because she couldn't keep her eyes open. Why, she had sprawled right across the dining room table, powerless to get up and go to her own bed. Drugged? Had she been drugged? But who ... ? Peter was there! Peter! Could it have been Peter? Why? She was all confused, her mind was not yet working clearly. This is crazy! You only see these things in grade B movie thrillers ... or read about them in detective novels. It doesn't happen to people in their own homes. Or does it?

Without opening her eyes, she was aware that she was on her own bed. Strangely, she was nude ... and her arms were held ... her wrists were fastened in some way so that her arms were stretched over her head.

She opened her eyes with an effort, focused them on the face that was leering down at her.

Peter! Her instinctive, involuntary scream was stifled even before it was formed in her throat.

A hand was clamped cruelly over her half-open mouth.

"Don't scream!" Peter hissed, "If you do, I'll have to put a gag on you! It's up to you!"

Terri struggled for a moment, found it useless and subsided and lay back on the pillow. She didn't want to be gagged. Maybe ... maybe if she could talk ... she might be able to reason with him. Yes, that was it. She would talk to him, and find out what he intended to do with her ... to her, and, perhaps, try to talk him out of it. The terrifying thought crossed her mind that... that he was going to rape her. Rape? Oh, God! Not that! Not Peter! Peter?

Peter's voice, "Do you promise not to scream?"

She moved her head up and down in positive affirmation. He took his hand away from her mouth and she expelled a great breath.

"Peter?"

"Yes, Peter! Your own stepson!" he sneered. "Like they say in those old melodramas, oh, hah, now I have you in my power!" He rubbed his hands, mimicking the villain, and made a sneering grimace.

"Peter! Be serious!"

"I am serious!" he barked. "I've never been more serious in my life."

"Stop playing games ... a-and let me go!"

"Not yet!"

"W-What do you want... ?"

"You, stepmother, I want you!"

"Wh-what do you m-mean?" she wailed.

"Just that! I want you all to myself, your body just for me ... all for me!"

"That would be rape, Peter."

"Oh, smart!"

"You'll be caught... a-and punished. You'll be put in jail!"

"Maybe!"

"It's insane. S-Stop it right now ... and I'll forget about what you've d-done... not tell your father, or the police ..." she bargained.

"No way!" he snapped. "I've already gone this far... now, I go for broke ... all or nothing!"

Tears started in her eyes. Her position seemed to be absolutely hopeless. She glanced at her right wrist. There was a leather cuff el on it with a stout rope attached. The rope was tied securely to the bedpost. The other wrist was likewise imprisoned. "Ooohh, my God! My God!" she moaned.

"He won't be able to help you, either," Peter grunted.

"P-Please, I beg you ... "

"There's already been too much talking, baby! Now, it's time to groove. Like you know, groovy! Man!"

Her stepson was still fully clothed, but now he began to undress himself. Casually, he removed his shirt, undershirt, trousers, shoes, socks, and finally his undershorts. She averted her eyes from the sight of his obscene nakedness.

His eyes had been on her all the while he was undressing, watching her, measuring her reaction.

Terri's eyes widened. She tried to keep looking away, but his voice commanded her, "Look here, baby! And it's all for you!"

"I-I'll never ... l-let you do it t-to m-me!"

His uproarious laughter filled the bedroom. Between fits of sniggering glee, he told her, "You don't have much choice!" Then, getting himself under control, he went on " ... but, just to make sure, I've got a little something for you!"

Producing a paper shopping bag from the floor where he had placed it earlier, he delved into it, showing her a small, tightly-capped bottle. He smiled, "I've been planning this for a long time ... just waiting for the time when my old man was going to be away for a long weekend. Man, this's going to be groovy! You know what's in this bottle?"

Terri shook her head. "No ..." she admitted weakly.

"It's an aphrodisiac called Dhattura... from India. There's this friend of mine who was studying pharmacy - until he dropped out from dropping too much acid. Anyway, he found this old formula and mixed it up ... He hooked the stuff to make it out of his old man's drugstore ... same as he hooked the chloral hydrate ..."

"D-Dhattura ... chloral hydrate ... ?" The words were strange to her.

"Yeah, you know ... the stuff I gave you to knock you out."

Suddenly, at least one thing was clear to her. "I-In my coffee ... ?"

"Yeah," he affirmed. "And this stuff..." he held up the bottle, "will make you as hot as a mink!"

"Drugs! Do you h-have to do everything ... w-with drugs?" "No ... but they help!" He removed the cork from the bottle and came to the side of the bed. Leering down at her, he croaked, "You're going to drink this!"

"No!" she cried, "NOO!"

"Oh, you'd rather be persuaded ..." he sat down on the bed, reached again into the paper bag, scribbled in the bottom and came up with a small, paper-wrapped package. She knew what it was instantly. A single-edge razor blade. Unwrapping it, he held the flat deadly-sharp thing between his thumb and forefinger. The madness gleamed in his eyes as he leaned toward her. "Where would you suggest I start?"

Horror gripped her. Instant tears started into her eyes as they widened with terror. "Oh, my God! My God ... No!"

The tiny blade in his hand came down toward the mound of her right breast. It touched her skin, he dragged it lightly in a small circle. It was a mere surface scratch, but the blood welled from the inch-long incision, the droplets running down the swelling whiteness as she looked down with the startling realization that he had actually drawn blood ... and that his next move might mutilate her forever. She had never felt so utterly helpless, so defenseless ... so alone and terror-stricken! Oh, God! She didn't want to be cut! The searing pain of it came slashing through her numbed senses. She looked down at the blade in his hand, poised. With a deep sigh of resignation, she whispered, "I - I'll drink it... "

"Good!" he growled, then, "That's groovy!" He held the neck of the bottle to her lips. She drank, not caring, not tasting. The vision of possible mutilation was too strong. Ugh!

The thought came to her as she drank the somewhat bitter, fiery liquid that slid easily down her throat: she had heard it... or had she read it in some popular magazine: she couldn't remember. Then it came to her, she had read: There is no known substance that is truly an aphrodisiac. It is only a matter of belief! No matter, then. Whatever it was she was drinking from the bottle, it couldn't possibly have the effect Peter had described. "Like a mink ..." he had said. She was consoled by the affirmative words of the magazine article. The liquid would not do anything to her... except perhaps it might be a slight intoxicant.

Peter held the bottle to her lips until the last drop was drained. He gloated down at her. "Now, we'll just wait for awhile ... until it begins to work!"

Boldly, she said, "It'll never work!"

"We'll see, baby! We'll see!"

"I know it won't work. I read an article ..."

He laughed. "Don't believe everything you read! I've already experimented with this stuff ... I gave some to a sweet young virgin last week ..." he stopped, remembering the scene, reliving it in his mind. "She was on her back for eight solid hours. There was a jump line ... she took on about twenty-five guys! I had her five times, myself!"

"Ugh! How horrible!"

"It was groovy, man. Like groovy! She had it every way possible ... and still wanted more." Now, some doubts began to assail her. Was it possible? Oh, God! She hoped it was not. Maybe Peter was lying ... telling her these things just to make her believe that the liquid he had forced on her would make her do those things, too! He could be using a sort of psychological persuasion ... and his language ... he was saying those vile things for their salacious effect.

That was it! He was only trying to make her believe, that he had given her a powerful aphrodisiac.

Again, her step-son rummaged in the shopping bag. This time he came up with a small tin. She recognized it as a container for cough drops. He opened the lid and selected a tightly rolled tube of brown wheat-straw paper. Tearing a match from a matchbook, he carefully lit the homemade cigarette. The pungently sweet smoke drifted to her, and she watched with fascination as he drew the smoke deep into his lungs, holding his breath for several moments before he exhaled.

She knew that it was not tobacco. It must be - God, it had to be - marijuana. He was going to get stoned on marijuana, himself!

He smiled down at her, a tenuous, almost tender smile. "Care for a drag on this roach?"

Terri grimaced, "God, no!"

"No, I guess you wouldn't... the Dhattura's enough ..."

Languidly, he pulled his legs up and crossed them under him; his eyes closed. He sat upright, silent and immobile.

How long he sat that way, Terri couldn't estimate. Additionally, she realized, she had no way of knowing how long she had been unconscious... or how long she had been trussed up on her bed. She twisted her head to look toward the double French windows. The drapes were closed. She could not see out. Straining her hearing sense, she listened for the sounds of traffic on the boulevard. There were only the sounds of cars passing, intermittently, muffled, as from a great distance, and far away she heard the wail of a siren. She decided that it must be well past midnight and that there was a heavy fog lying over the city.

She watched her step-son as he smoked, his eyes closed, his face slack. He held the narcotic cigarette between thumb and forefinger, the burning ash turned in to the palm of his hand, the hand and arm coming slowly up to place the cigarette carefully between his lips. There was the long, slow drag of inhalation, the long, interminable moments of held breath, and finally the slow, controlled exhalation of the grey smoke.

What, she asked herself, was he thinking? What was going on inside this mixed up boy? ... and, most of all, she wondered why he was holding her prisoner... with intentions of raping her? Why? WHY? Her only hope, perhaps, would lie in the possibility of talking him out of it... but that had been unsuccessful, so far. She shuddered again at the memory of the razor blade and his threat to mutilate her. Looking down, she saw that the wound he had made was closing, the thin line of blood drying to a dark, almost black color. It didn't hurt, now, but she was grateful that it was only a superficial scratch. Had she not agreed to drink that awful stuff, what would he have done? But, what about the liquid in the bottle? Dhattura, he had called it. What if it really were everything he said it was? The graphic image of his description raced through her mind. He said, "I gave some to a sweet young virgin last week ... she made love for eight hours!"

Then, unexplainably, she felt it begin in her, the first tiny, keening tingle in her loins like a small spark of warmth, seeming to spread, permeating her whole belly. She remembered reading a description of the small spark from a passing motorist's cigarette that had started a huge forest fire, a fire that destroyed thousands of acres of prime timber land. Oh, God! Don't let this be like that tiny spark! ... But, relentlessly and against her will the heat grew in her. What could it be? She didn't really believe the bunkum about a drug of any kind being able to overcome the morally instilled beliefs of a person.

And, yet... and yet, oh God, she was beginning to feel something ... something foreign and totally alien to her way of thinking. "Will you be good if I untie you?" he asked. "Y-yes," she groaned, relieved at the thought he would release her hands. Quickly, she said again, "Y-Yes, yes, I promise!" she said eagerly. He leaned over her then, kneeling up and sliding forward on his knees as he worked to untie the knotted ropes. Her hands were free now, the cufflets removed, and she rubbed at her wrists to restore circulation in them.

Peter returned to his former position, kneeling between her thighs, pressuring them wide apart with his knees. He grunted with satisfaction as she offered no resistance.

Actually, Terri felt the fires of her passion being stoked higher and higher, and she remembered how it had been with Pauline. Pauline ... her woman-lover had paid court to every area of her body, all of her had been involved in their Lesbian love-making. She needed that now. Indeed, she wanted it!

Unconsciously, narcissistically, her hands crept to her own breasts, caressing them as her hips moved upward to Peter, offering him all of her to do with as he chose.

Her elbows pressed in tight against her ribs and her head flailed crazily from side to side, out of control, as he descended on her.

Terri groaned, the husky, muted sound coming from deep in her throat. She felt her hips flexing and moving of their own volition, and heard the mewling, animal-like sounds that came, unbidden, from between her passion -clenched teeth.

She just couldn't believe that it was happening to her. She just couldn't! What was left of her rational mind told her it was so. She was actually responding to her own step-son ... wanting him to go on and on!

Peter smiled a smile of triumph. He had done what he set out to do! His stepmother who had loathed and hated him was lying there, squirming under him. He had wanted her ever since his father had married her! Goddamn that old man! He didn't know anything about sex! Peter knew well enough that his father always left Terri unsatisfied. He had listened and watched ... watched, as later, she had gone into the privacy of her bathroom to gain sexual release with her hand. It was a sad thing to behold ... a woman like this.

But she had scorned him! That had stung him. He knew he had more to offer her. God! He loved her ... wanted her, but she couldn't, wouldn't allow him to get near her; after all, there wasn't that much difference in their ages.

He was young, strong and virile and his staying power, he knew, was tremendous, especially when he was on pot. This was the new generation. He knew that drugs were the answer to everything in the world. If people would turn on to drugs, everybody would be too busy loving to fight wars. God! Life was beautiful, and grass and hash helped to make it beautiful!

Her mewling groans of pleasure drove him faster. Good, he wanted her to beg him for it!

He grinned to himself. This was only the beginning. There was most of the weekend ahead of them. He intended to make the most of it. He was going to take her every possible way that there was!

He knew that she was too far gone ... too aroused to fight against him now. He could do anything to her. His mind began to form erotic scenes, pictures, vivid and alive of all the acts he would perform on her naked body. It was wild and groovy. He had a good imagination.

Peter could not help gloating to himself as, suddenly, her hands were clawing at him, pulling him closer. Through drug-dimmed eyes, Terri could vaguely see the face hovering over her. His words were only unintelligible sounds pouring from his twisted lips. At that point in time, the only realities were the animalistic ones of sensation and feeling below.

Oh, God! This need would drive her insane! Then, the flashing thought of the great irony involved in her wanting the son instead of the father intruded. She realized that she had never felt this way before. George had never made her want it like this! It was Pauline who had, unknowingly, prepared her for this. Yes! Pauline, her woman-lover, had made her want a man more than ever before.

Appalled at the thought, she tried to reject it, but in perturbed panic her hands found their way between them, searching for the thing she wanted.

Peter had been waiting for just such action on her part. Her overt reaching to claim him pleased him no end! This was it!

"Oh, Peter!" she cried, her voice hoarse with emotion.

This is it! This is the time! He flicked his hips forward, driving with all his strength.

Terri winced with pain. The agony of his entry shocked her for a long moment.

"AAAaaagh!" she screamed, "Oh, Goddd!"

Peter reveled in her scream. He thrust again, harder, listening for the moan of anguish to follow. He suddenly wanted to hear her scream ... scream for mercy!

Flickering dimly in the back of his brain was an image of his father doing the same thing to her, and momentarily there was an understanding of his father.

"Peter! Oh, God! No! NOOOooo! Please!" she choked out, her naked white body pinned helplessly to the mattress. Oh, God, she couldn't stand it!

Her stepson's outstretched arms pinioned her, while his widespread knees held her thighs immobile. Peter gaped down at her from his dominant position with a lewd smirk on his lips. He was elated, and he grinned even more widely as he saw her face twist in a grimace, her lips curling back from her teeth as pleading, incoherent whimpers came from deep in her throat. Her arms were outstretched, the palms of her hands against his hips.

Through his own drug-fogged senses, he knew that he had won ... he had conquered her, as he held her pinned down in that lewd, humiliating position. By God, her moans were tapering off... he believed she was actually beginning to enjoy it now!

"Oh!" Terri whimpered, her mouth ovalling, lighting still the thin hairline of sensation that barely divided pain from pleasure.

"OOooohhh!" she cried, holding her breath. He watched as her nostrils flared and her throat began to work with little mewling sounds of pleasure that joined in cadence with the tempo he had set.

"Oh, Oh, OOh, OOOoooh!" she purred. Then, "OOOOooooh, yes! Yes, Peter ... darling! Yessss!"

Now, he lowered his lips to hers and kissed her open mouth, thrusting his tongue deep to savor the sweetness there, and her whole body began to come to life under him. With sudden and complete wantonness, she plunged her tongue deep into his throat. Low, passionate mewls of servile acceptance emitted from her throat, her beautiful face twisted with erotic anticipation as her neck strained and a light sweat broke out in tiny droplets on her forehead. Her blonde hair was disheveled as her head moved as on oiled hinges from side to side and her unseeing eyes rolled, unfocused, in her head. In a near unconscious state, her hips began to roll and buck. Peter was forced to clench his teeth and call on all his power of self-control to maintain himself immobile above her for just a little while longer. Wait! Not yet!

There was no pain now. There was only sensate, rapurous pleasure. She had never known that it could be like this. Her whole body was coming to life; a maddening tingle had seemed to burst into being deep within her. The raw nerve-ends of her vibrant flesh were electric with the supercharged perceptivity of sensual carnality.

Now! Now is the time! Peter gloated.

He hissed through clenched teeth at her. "You want it now ... don't you?"

"Yes! OOOooh, yes!" she groaned without hesitation.

"Little stepmother," he leered, "do you remember how you turned me down ... before?"

"Y-Yes, but I... I thought you ... "

"You thought I wasn't good enough for you!" he finished.

"N-No ... that's not it... you ..." she tried again, then, "Please, Peter ... oh, God, you've teased me enough..."

"Beg, bitch!" he barked, "I want to hear you beg me!"

Terri, even at that moment, in wanton and abandoned rapture, agonizingly anticipating the ecstasy of fulfillment, at last, in a sex act that was more than she had ever expected, could not comprehend what it was he wanted. He wanted her to beg him to finish making love to her? Never! Her brain, temporarily short-circuited, rebelled. No! She couldn't do that..". she could not bring herself to say it to her own husband's son!

She shut her eyes, and a groan of frustration escaped her lips. Her whole being, body and mind, recoiled at the command he had given her, but she had not reckoned that by now it was her body that was ruling her. Yes, her body had been swayed, for a moment, by her brain; however, the sensations in her loins continued to send their overpowering desperate messages. Her whole existence seemed to lie there. Tears welled in her eyes and ran down her exquisite cheeks.

"Beg! Goddamn it! Beg me, silly!" Peter snarled, digging his fingers into her flesh cruelly.

"Yes ... ! Yes, I'll beg ... Do it to me, P-Peter ... !"

"Not that way! Say it! Say: - me! Say it, damn you!"

Her voice broke with the effort to utter the obscene word, but she managed, "P-Peter, darling ... - me ... !"

Then, she babbled on incoherently, "Yes, oh, yes! I want you to! I want you to!" and the awful word burst from her lips over and over again.

True, she had heard words like these before, but she had never spoken them herself. George used them ... and she could not forget her shock when Pauline had mouthed the same obscenities. Now ... her own lips were dripping with the lewdness, and for the first time in her life. Somehow, there was a new lascivious thrill generated in her by the very sounds.

"You're learning," Peter said. He marveled at the utter abandon, the dazed, ecstatic and drug dimmed smile that played across her lips. God! She was more than he had thought she would be. Groovy! Like, Groovy, Man! Now, it was time to really show the bitch something. He wanted to completely bend her to his will... subjugate her, humiliate her, debase and demean her.

Terri felt her climax coming. She knew it in the sudden shuddering wave of convulsive muscle spasms, the slashing crash of overburdened nerve ends as they discharged their sensations into her mind. Her body jerked ... suddenly it was there for her! Oh, God! It's here at last! "Oh! Oh, Oh, oh! Aaaaaggghhh! Oh, darling, darling!" ... and with her last cry of passion her body began to quake uncontrollably, as wave after convulsive wave of delicious sexual release swept through her.

Peter waited, controlling his urge until she had groaned out the last of her release.

Beneath him, she shook her head; her mind had begun to clear and rational thoughts returned to dominate it. She became aware of her obscene and humiliating position under him. My God! She was helpless... she could not move in any direction. Now, she could begin to evaluate, to think somewhat clearly. My God! It must have been the drug, the drug he had given her. What had she done? Peter was raping her! And ... worse, she might even become pregnant from her own stepson! Oh, God! Help me! Please help me!

She groaned as the unsated Peter continued his brutal, pounding assault on her tender body. It was impossible to fight back ... her arms were pinned down ... she could only accept it... pray he would soon be finished with her ... until... suddenly ...

It wasn't possible! She couldn't believe it! She was reacting again ... wanting it to go on and on! Shooting sparks of passion were being generated all over, again, within her. She didn't care if he made her pregnant!

It was magnificent! She rose to receive his final plunges in an ecstasy she could never describe. The supreme heights of sexual rapture and fulfillment were hers, again. Then, Peter fell forward, full length on top of her, exhausted and satiated beyond his wildest dreams.

"Like, man! The most!" he said, and was soon fast asleep, the drugs and exhaustion having finally taken their toll of him.

Terri, also, slept a wonderfully serene sleep of complete sexual satiety. For the first time in her life a man had shown her what sex was all about! God! It was beautiful! ... But the young boy who slept beside her? He was her own stepson! Her own husband's son!