Chapter 9
Kurt Bailey's mood curdled. His upper lip twitched under the hairy line of his moustache. Armpits dampened. On hands and knees, he rummaged through the papers deep in the corner of his safe. The brown packet was missing!
"Sonofabitch!" he growled, jumping to his feet and hanging shut the heavy safe door with a swift kick. He threw himself into his chair, buried his head in his hands, and made a quick decision.
A second later steely fingers punched out a telephone number he'd sworn he'd never resort to using. "Meet me in the McDonalds parking lot," he instructed conspiratorially. "And bring your buddy. I'll have the cash on me."
Bailey's trembling hand replaced the receiver. Bailey had never believed in God, but he prayed to him now. If his pansy-assed son-in-law had been making idle threats about playing detective, Sherrie would be damned irate about being a widow at age twenty-five.
I hope the stupid shit has life insurance. Sherrie . . . wish she'd quit being dramatic and get her ass home before she gets mine in a wringer!
Locking the door, he went to the safe and counted out the bills which he stuffed in his suit pocket. He draped his overcoat over his arm and stomped past his secretary.
"I'm going out for lunch," he called over his shoulder, feeling none of the titillating charge which was his which was his appetizer when his eyes fell on her tight buttocks and swelling hips. A bubble of acid indigestion curdled in his stomach.
Mavis blinked butterfly eyelashes at her employer and studiously filed her berry red nails, pooching out rosy red lips. A deep sigh swelled her bosom as she eyed her employer pulling out of the parking lot. She couldn't think of the word to describe his moody actions, but Kurt hadn't been his normal self lately.
"Oh well," she sighed relentingly, and flicked on the small screened television set at the corner of her desk to watch the afternoon soap operas.
Jack fingered the pile of official looking papers and neatly replaced them into the accordion pleated brown envelope.
He could taste revenge. His movements were sure, even and methodical, his brain honed and keen. He felt like Sam Spade in chapter twelve. Last night's adrenalin flow had simmered down to cool alertness-almost like being high.
The day burst with yellow sunlight, blinding on the white crusty snow crunching under his boots. The tires gripped the snow slickened pavement as he headed down the neighborhood street lined with lofty elm and oak trees. He was ruminating over the wisdom of choosing to live in an older section of town and Sherrie's remarks about it being a great place to raise kids. . . when the first bullet cracked his back window.
"Jesus Christ!" Jack stomped on the accelerator and tore through the intersection. His rearview mirror reflected the pock-marked face of a man he'd never seen. A wide brimmed hat shadowed his forehead, gloved hands worked the wheel tightly . . . beside him sat his twin aiming a .38 at the back of his head.
"What the fuck . . . ? " Wild-eyed, Jack broke all safety rules. His car swung abruptly into a tight left without signaling. The Datsun flew into a spin and banged into the rear end of a parked Volkswagen.
A housewife who'd been unloading groceries from the back seat, pulled her head out. "You . . . you bastard! Come back here and pay for this!" The grocery bag fell from her arms into the snow drift. She craned her neck to read the icy license plate and shook her arm militantly.
Jack could see her mouth working, from the rear-view mirror. "Sorry lady," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow and keeping his eyes peeled on the rearview mirror for the silver Lincoln Continental. The sparkly grill nosed around the corner, gaining on him again. "Oh, shit!"
A bullet sang through the air, hit the dashboard and sent the tachometer dial into a wind milling spin. Jack stomped on the accelerator, and skidded sideways down the street toward the main intersection clogged with noon hour traffic. Muttering something to himself about there being safety in numbers, he put himself into a Sam Spade frame of mind . . . all the way to the police station.
"Our little precious looks nice and rested, don't you think'. '" Myra's liquidy eyes lifted to Southworth's stoic face. "So relaxed and cuddly." Myra laid a soft palm on Southworth's square shoulder; her voice sang with silvery cajolance. "I say we keep her here . . . we really don't need another
Southworth's piggish eyes stopped Myra in mid-sentence. In a wintery voice, he gruffed: "I make the decisions, and you forget she's not been tested." Tested for endurance was the key to Southworth's enterprise. When a client wanted a woman who reveled in oral sex . . . she'd damn well better do it to his satisfaction!
The naked captive lay cringing into the bed. Some kind soul had untied her chafed ankles and wrists and applied lotion to the reddened welts. That same kind person, she recalled in horror, had raped her orally. A shiver of terror snaked up Sherrie's spine as she lifted her green eyes to Southworth's penetrating orbs.
A twitch at the corner of his mouth and his lips went taut. Wordlessly, he gripped the blanket in his hand and tore it off Sherrie's cringing nude body. His eyes began to roam over the smooth, ripe curves of her shivering flesh, a sadistic smile playing on his lips now. Against her will, Sherrie Turner experienced a tiny thrill of excitement.
"Nice breasts," he muttered. "About a 34 C, I'd say . . . firm . . . " He had reached over to pinch her nipples into hard peaks of tingling sensation, making them pucker into rosebuds. "She's very responsive."
Sherrie could feel her traitorous body coming alive under a man's fingertips, throbbing and burning with growing excitement. First the machine, then Myra's attack on me . . . and now him! Oh, Daddy . . . please come get me. Please . . . The thought that she was more afraid of her own responses and the shame that would follow, than the physical attack rattled through her clouded brain.
Sherrie's mind blocked out the voice, concentrating on the actions. She failed to notice as anger mixed with lust as he tweaked her nipple again. "Does that feel good?" he asked clinically.
A tiny groan escaped her throat as she felt the lingering need for a man's potent stalk of flesh grinding into her belly. Myra's delicate fingering of her anus and the wild eroticism of female genitals joining female mouth, had left her one sizzling hunk of flesh.
"Answer me, cunt!" he shouted, twisting both nipples as if they were nobs to his machine.
Jagged spears of pain shot from Sherrie's diamond chipped peaks as he twisted and pulled brutally at her reddened nipples and, wrenched from her dreamy arousal, she fought frantically to free herself from his painful grip. A rush of adrenalin flooded her veins and she managed to leap from the bed and throw herself toward the door. But he caught her in mid-leap before her hand caught the door knob. His hands clamped over her arm, slamming her back down on the mattress. She lay there quivering, naked, defiled.
Don't try that again," he warned in a knife-blade voice.
Grabbing the sheet from the bed, he bit through the hem, then ripped it to ribbons. Testing its strength between his clenched fists, he smiled in satisfaction and glared down at Sherrie. Without looking at Myra, he said, "You better get outta here. Your precious cunt isn't gonna look so relaxed after I'm done testing her!"
Myra's hands flew to her mouth. "No, Southworth . . . please don't hurt her-she's.. . "
"Ah!" She felt it before she saw it coming.
Sherrie's eyes saucered as she watched Southworth hit his lesbian accomplice square in the eye. Whimpering, Myra shuffled blindly toward the door and closed it behind her. The captive whimpered, too, as Southworth turned to her.
"You try to escape one more time, and I'll lose my temper," growled Southworth.
Sherrie's eyes widened in horror as she realized his intent.
"N . . . no . . . I won't.. . I swear I won't!" All too well, she remembered Anna's fate.
Southworth's mouth twitched. "Damn right, you won't," he muttered, brutally grabbing one of her chafed, tender wrists and holding it to the bedpost.
With efficient, doctor-like movements, he knotted the strip of cloth around her wrist, then wound the ends around the bedpost, drawing her arms tight as bow strings. Barely enough slack to let her blood circulate . . . no chance of pulling free. He repeated the procedure on the other wrist while she lay staring up at him with doe-like eyes, her face impassive, her eyes glinting.
"One day you'll be caught.. . " she spat up at him with slitted eyes. "You can't keep destroying women like this!"
"Don't make assumptions," he warned in a chiseled voice.
Sherrie's throat went so dry her tongue felt glued to the roof of her mouth, as she watched the short man turn his back and hook his thumbs in his unzipped pants. He pulled them down over stout, hirsute buttocks, down to his knees and over his ankles. Instinctively, she wriggled, trying to loosen the bonds, but to no avail. Before he turned his back, she abandoned her struggle.
Jack had never struck her-except for that one time-and the thought of this sadistic man whacking her made her shudder. Tied to a bed made her feel degraded, humiliated. She was at the mercy of this maniac who hated women and was bent on destroying them. Oh God! She had to cooperate to stay alive! Fleetingly, she wondered how Jack would feel if he knew she was about to be raped.
But her thoughts screeched to a halt as Southworth turned around, stark naked, kneeling down on the bed. His long purple-veined cock was stiffening, a pearl of pre-cum oozing from the single eye. Just the sight of it started the fevered churning between her legs. With Jack, warm in their bed, the sight of his erect penis had been a sunny promise of joy. No bondage could not negate that association. The idea of having a man's hard penis boring into her belly made her shiver with anticipation and, in spite of herself, a half grin crossed her face. The devil in the angel was calling mutiny!
Yes, he would shove his penis into her . . . certainly he couldn't kill her with his cock . . . then the horrible itching between her satiny thighs would end and the devil's pitchforks would rest.
She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of his body lowering onto the bed beside her, the anticipation of his fingers touching her lesbian-arousing body, his lips bruising hers, weakening her fears.
To her shock, she felt him lifting he head and one eye popped open to see him gathering up the pillows. He wadded them up and yanking Sherrie's head up from the bed, wedged them between and slammed her head back down, her chin nearly tickling her chest. Her wide green eyes stared at the crater of his navel, surrounded by pale hair. Craning her neck, she stared at his cruel face. That twitch in the mouth again.
Aside from his one instance of perversion, Jack had been good in bed. But this position was new to her. "Wh-what are you going to do?" she asked in a tremulous voice, puzzled by this strange arrangement.
"It's called fellatio," he answered simply. "Sucking cock. . . "
A whimper tore from Sherrie's throat. Never had she lowered herself to putting her mouth around Jack's penis. The idea nauseated her. Aside from his rancid opinion of her father, her unwillingness to defile her mouth was the biggest cur of their marriage. Now her tormentor was about to cleave through that privacy, just as Myra had with her salacious tauntings and oral rape. Sherrie gulped-dryly.
Oh Dear God! her mind bellowed. Why couldn't lie use her body in the normal way! In terrified disbelief, she watched him lift a hairy leg over her naked torso and position his stout buttocks above her breasts, his knees snug into her armpits, his throbbing, seeping cock dangling ominously before her eyes.
"N-no. . . please.. . not that," she whined, her lower lip trembling in horror, knowing that to beg would only spark his violent temper. "I-I can't do . . . that!"
In answer, his upper lip curled. He shook his blood-heavy cock before her eyes, making a dribble of pre-cum splatter onto her cleavage. "Kiss it. . . put your mouth on it."
Sherrie shut her eyes. The debasement couldn't continue. It couldn't! The machine, Myra, now this! When she refused, rolling her head from side to side to avoid touching the hot flesh with her tender lips, he grabbed her cruelly by the shoulder, digging into her soft, naked flesh until she cried out in pain. He grabbed a handful of auburn hair and yanked until her eyes watered from the agony.
"Oow! That hurts . . . stop!" she whimpered weakly, brokenly.
"Do as I say.. . "
Slowly, she parted her rosy lips, trembling from tight and jagged pain.
"Put your lips around the head of my cock," he said clinically, his piggish eyes alight with fiery flickers of lust. "Suck it!"
Fear and mortification joined hands, but Sherrie obediently closed her succulent lips tentatively around the blunt, shiny head of his rubbery staff. Jack had never forced her into this disgusting, filthy act. She had expected to be sick to her stomach from the taste of it, but to her shock, it didn't taste as bad as it looked. She tasted the bittersweet pungency of a clear, sticky liquid oozing from the tiny slit at the end. Given the choice of being beaten or put in the chair, this was the lesser torture, less humiliating-because she was being forced.
His knees tightened snugly under her arm pits with that first swath of her tongue, and Sherrie felt a gush of blood flood her cheeks as she felt his meaty stalk grow another rubbery inch. In a dark corner of her libido, she felt an unmistakable tickle of titillation at the spicy, pungent taste of the warm, male semen on her palate.
If she pleased him with her mouth, would he please her with his cock drubbing into her crying belly? Spurred on by the thought, she experimentally twirled her tiny tongue over the thick, purplish head. A low moan of something akin to pleasure rumbled from Southworth's throat. That, Sherrie noted dimly, was the first expression she'd witnessed.
"Now lick it," he hissed, panting slightly from the obscene sight of seeing his cock stuffed between the parted rosy lips of a faceless woman. Women were all faceless to Southworth, and mindless. Only their bodies, their bitchy cunts, were of value . . . even those wore out. like Anna's.
"Keep your eyes open so you can see what you're doing," he instructed.
Her eyes popped open to stare mesmerically at the long-purple veined hunk of male flesh drubbing between her soft lips. It jerked and leapt before her nose, settling there like an annoying fly.
"I said lick it, Sherrie. I'm not going to tell you again!"
He jerked it again, but Sherrie could only stare at it. So hard, she marveled, that the skin stretched tautly over its surface, shining like a polished opal. The thick veins bulged and pulsed against the shiny skin. Below, two pendulous balls in their softly swaying sacs, swollen and heavy with sperm boiling within, slapped against her dimpled chin. Hesitantly, the captive ran her tongue down its hot rubbery length, feeling the blood pulse like wriggling worms against her tongue. Daintily, she licked it all the way, swabbing the wet pinkness over its hairy base, then along the worming underside. The sensation was strangely exciting.
The sensation didn't linger in her tongue. As she slaved over her captor, Sherrie try as she might to blot it out, felt a perverse pleasure growing in the pit of her stomach at the thought of being used this way. That made it all right and moral, didn't it? Being stripped of choice, she decided subconsciously, had its merits. Could she correct the ugliness of being strapped to a bed and forced into performing fellatio on her tormentor? Deep in her smooth muscled belly, she could feel that churning, burning heat, sizzling in the center of her womanhood. It rippled to the diamond chips of her milky breasts and down to the tips of her curled under toes.
Above her, Southworth trembled from the delicate exquisiteness of her warm, wet tongue slaving over his cock that dangled and rubbed over her lovely features.
"Make your mouth vacuum my cum right out of my halls!" he hissed.
Sherrie's green eyes snapped up at him, her feathery eyelashes fluttering over appled cheekbones, the glint in them wildly acquiescing. Obediently, she trailed her warm pink tongue back over the rubbery shaft and ovaled her rosy lips softly and slipped them gently over the naked head of his mushroomed cock. Southworth groaned from deep in his chest and flicked his strong hips forward, sliding the full girth of his lust-bloated flesh into the wet cavern of her mouth and down the length of her velvety tongue to bang against the back of her brutalized throat.
She couldn't breathe! Panic flooded her mind as she gagged, eyes watering. Yet she sucked, vacuuming the seed from his testicles. She slipped her tongue up and down the erect pole of hot male flesh, nibbling softly at the base with her pearly front teeth.
That did it!
Southworth threw back his head and gasped out long repressed pleasure. Something akin to a smile creased his taut lips. Slowly, he began to rock his hips back and forth, fucking into her ovaled mouth as if it were just another cunt to brutalize and defile. His captive struggled to suck and lick, but it was impossible without a lungful of breath to keep her going. She could barely catch a lungful of air before he'd rammed his hardness down her throat, scraping over her tonsils.
Being tied down and forced to do filthy things with one's mouth, was far more terrifying than the electronic wonder in the chamber. Sherrie endured the torture minute by minute, refusing to look at the total picture of her helplessness for fear it might over-amp her senses and then she would start screaming-and Southworth would invent a new torture to silence her.
Better to concentrate on the hot cudgel ramming into her mouth, banging into her tonsils with each thrust, than to scream. In a strange masochistic way, it thrilled her to know she had no choice. She couldn't move her head, pinned as it was between his musky-smelling genitals and the headboard. No choice, no guilt. She had to suck on this pulsating, meaty cudgel or God knows he might make her into a juicy meal for the German Shepherd who'd almost tore out her throat!
Southworth's critical eye shot downwards to study the ovaled, glossy lips stretched tightly around the meaty base of his cock. Seldom did oral sex satisfy his lustful cravings; voyeurism tinged with sadism had been his sexual release. Masturbating to a woman's shrill scream of fear and desire made him cum. But this sweet mouthed female had a magical effect on him!
She worked her jaws together, feeling the blood swell in his penis, making it jerk inside her mouth. He could see tiny ridges of tender pink flesh as he pulled back from the babyishly sucking lips that slipped back inside as he slid his penis forward again. A chuckle gurgled cruelly in his throat as he watched the forest of pubic hair scrape against the sides of her mouth creating a little moustache while his sperm laden testicles slapped an obscene tattoo against her dimpled chin.
Definitely oral . . . he thought, knowing Myra had tested their precious captive. The vision of Myra's plump, mature body straddling the rope-tied captive's soft breasts while she mashed her steaming cunt against the dimpled face, made him ripple with lust. Now those delicate lips that had once tasted lesbian love, were wrapped around his pounding prick! Southworth's hips rolled in a rhythm of lust, as he sawed away, back and forth . . . in and out.. . never quite drawing it all the way out . . . leaving the seeping, naked tip in the warm cavern of her mouth . . . then boring into her throat on the hip flex. Her eyes, liquid green pools, watered. Sherrie's cheeks flushed with tears as she gagged on his potency.
"Ahhhhh!" Southworth clenched his teeth and threw back his head. The paunchy belly disappeared as he sucked in his breath making his abdominal muscles stiffen. "Suck! HARDER!" he yelped, locking his hands around the back of his captive's bobbing head, drawing it over his rigidity until he couldn't see even a quarter-inch of his stiffened muscle. He gnashed his teeth, determined to drown her in pools of sticky cum. His balls erupted then; Sherrie's throat constricted and relaxed, as a pint of scalding semen shot down her throat. She swallowed in gulps.. . again and again and again.
Sherrie's pink cheeks turned crimson as they expanded and hollowed in a valiant attempt to keep from drowning. He didn't let go of her hair until she'd sucked away every last drop of his wiggling, hot sperm. Finally, Southworth grunted out the last dreg of pleasure and his cock deflated like a pricked balloon. The sticky, flaccid tube withered in her mouth and fell limply from her parted lips. The stout body of her rapist collapsed in a heap of exhaustion beside her on the bed.
Sherrie clenched her eyes shut, hating the sound of his labored breathing. He lay with his head on her arm; this was the first time he'd touched her, she realized.
The feel of his warm, sweaty male flesh against her goose bumped flesh started the devils dancing in the pit of her belly. Her vagina cried for attention . . . and once more the tauntings had satisfied her rapist. She struggled against her bonds; she chewed at her lip and whimpered, dying for someone to put out the fire in her loins.
They're done this to me . . . I can't help it if I-Oh, Lord, help me! Through the rationalizations and bloated excuses, Sherrie's conscience shook a guilty finger. The face of her father loomed God-like in a corner of undammed morality. What would her father think if he saw his precious daughter tied by a rapist whose sperm glistened on her lips . . . a tormentor whose sperm she wanted deep in her belly!
She squirmed. Her wrists ached dully from the bonds that held her captive on the bed, fingers numbing from blood starvation. She turned her pathetically flushed face to stare him in his bird-like eyes. A shiny thread of his sperm dribbled from one corner of her twitching mouth as she spat at him.
"You won't get away with this. . . " she hissed through clenched teeth, hating him for depriving her of well earned pleasure.
In answer, he chortled lewdly and then she bolted, straining at her bonds. His middle finger was rubbing the swollen nub of her clitoris in maddening circles, sending a bolt of electricity to shock her system beyond endurance. A cruel grin broke his stoicism. Turning his head toward the door, he called to Myra.
Slowly the door opened and enviously, she glared at l lie naked heterosexuals. Myra stiffened, awaiting Southworth's command.
"I think our precious is ready for Hunters Point Inn. Gel ready to move her."
Myra's forehead smoothed with mingled jealousy and disappointment.
Cringing into the mattress, Sherrie closed her eyes on reality. An ominous feeling that her torture had just begun rippled through her goose-bumped body. She felt the weight lift from the bed and heard a door slam shut.