Chapter 11
Arab stood in the dark kitchen and watched Cherie Parten jerk Brand's cock out of her mouth and roll away from him the instant she heard the intruder speak. During this same jolting second she saw Brand's manhood wilt as he shot to his feet and faced the man who stood silhouetted in the open doorway, grinning like a gargoyle. Arab's eyes widened in surprise. It was her own bartender from THE POUR HOUSE ... Ed Drake!
Cherie Parten's presence she could understand, but what the hell was Ed Drake doing here?
Cherie Parten scrambled to her feet and snapped, "Damn it, Ed, what kept you so long? Doing my thing to keep this carnival creature entertained isn't my idea of having a wild time." She smiled malevolently and pointed at Brand's drooping cock. "This so-called man can't seem to do his number in the normal way. Cripes, talk about a weirdo!"
"Pull in your claws, pussycat," Ed Drake snapped back. "I'd have been here sooner but my relief showed up 'a little late." He shifted his attention to Brand. "Stay loose, freak, and nothing bad will happen to you. All we want is your bankroll."
Arab saw Brand clench his fists and heard him snarl, "Who the hell do you think you're calling a freak, you dirty sonofabitch?"
Cherie Parten hissed, "He's calling you a freak, freak."
A warped smile appeared on Ed Drake's face as he stepped up to Brand. "That's who I'm calling a freak, pal—you. I'm also telling you for the last time to forget about coming on heavy and stay loose. I don't want to break you like a dry stick. Neither does Cherie. All we're after is that big roll of bread you flashed in the bar this afternoon."
Arab saw Brand open his mouth to yell something at Ed Drake, but the words refused to tear past his lips. Sudden fear gripped him. Blind fear. She could see it in his eyes and on his face. She watched, waited, wondered. Why couldn't he defend himself against this bastard who was cutting him down? The truth jumped out at her. Brand didn't have the guts to stand up to Ed Drake.
Cherie Parten scooted across the room and rummaged through the clothing Brand had piled on a chair near the front door. Arab watched the girl's face turn into a mask of greediness as she quickly extracted a thick roll of money from the pocket of Brand's sport coat and wagged it at her partner.
"Jackpot, Ed," she squealed. "Nine thousand slices of bread. Enough to take us far down the old freeway and tide us over until we find another mark like this one to skin."
Ed Drake chuckled.
Brand stood frozen in his tracks. Arab could tell that he hated the bad scene unfolding before him, but at the same time she saw the fear that kept him from trying to do something about it.
Cherie wagged the money at Brand. "Like taking candy from a little baby. That's all you really are, you know—a fucking babe in the woods." She laughed. Then she sobered abruptly and frowned at Ed Drake. "I just thought of something, Ed. Maybe this sucker has more bread stashed somewhere. Did you check his Mercedes?"
Ed Drake nodded. "I shook it down from asshole to elbow. Ditto for his Samsonites. Zilch. But I fixed his beast so he can't tail us with it. How about here?"
Cherie shook her head. "I cased this place while sissy here started the fire. No cash, and nothing small that's worth carrying off." She nodded toward Brand. "How about dum-dum's watch and ring? They're probably worth a few thousand."
Ed Drake made a derisive sound. "Fuck the freak's jewelry. I don't like messing with that stuff. Let's settle for the cash and split, pussycat."
"Right on." Cherie started dressing. Then she looked directly at Brand. "What about this carnival creature, Ed? Are we simply going to walk out of here and give him the opportunity to do a rabbit number to the nearest phone and blow the whistle on us?"
Ed Drake's voice sounded tight as he growled, "What the fuck do you want me to do—cancel him?"
A sickness ate at Arab's stomach. They were talking about Brand as though he were among the missing ... and Brand was letting them!
Cherie loaded her bra with breasts and shook her head. "This sorry excuse for a man isn't worth wasting, Ed, but we should tie his ass up to insure a clean getaway."
Arab took a quick breath and prepared herself to do battle with these two sorry creatures who were rolling Brand, but the battle was postponed as she saw Brand cock his arm and fire a handful of fist toward Ed Drake's jaw.
He was fast but not fast enough, for Ed Drake brushed the punch aside and then buried a fist of his own in Brand's stomach.
Arab winced as she watched Brand drop to the floor on this ass, hard.
Ed Drake towered over Brand. "A big cock doesn't make for a big man, freak, but I think you need to be convinced of that. Get up!"
Do it, darling, Arab's mind screamed at Brand. Get up and beat the living shit out of him!
It didn't happen.
Brand remained seated on the floor, back to the crackling fire. His face was a mask of shame and pain.
"Off your ass and on your feet, freak!"
Brand's arms hung limply at his sides and he made no attempt to lift them as Ed Drake backed him into the nearest corner and went to work on him with his hammy fists.
Slamming. Bruising. Hurting.
"Beg, freak, beg!"
"Keep slugging him, Ed!" Cherie Parten shrilled. "Your fists banging into him are turning me on! Put the big hurt on this sorry excuse for a man and make me cream my cunt all over my legs! Break him, break him!"
Arab felt every blow he took, and the pain chewed into her body until it became almost unbearable. Her soul sickened.
Fight back, Brand, fight back!
Brand didn't.
"Beg, freak, beg!"
Brand sounded like a sick frog as he croaked, "Fuck you!"
"You aren't man enough to fuck me," Ed Drake snarled as he battered Brand to his knees. "You'll never be man enough for anything."
Cherie Parten laughed wildly.
Arab winced as Ed Drake kicked Brand in the ribs. "I don't think the ropes will be necessary now, Cherie. Why waste the fucking time? This gutless punk won't be in any shape to blow the whistle on us until sometime tomorrow, if he's lucky, and by then we'll be long gone from this neck of the swamp."
"Like hell you will," Arab said as she stepped from the kitchen, eyes cold, breasts trembling in anger, claws bared for battle. "By tomorrow the only place you two sorry bastards will be is in jail."
"Well, well," Ed Drake said, "look who's here, Cherie—the little emotional cripple's crutch. How long have you been tuned in on us, lady moneybags?"
"Long enough to see what you did to Brand, you miserable sonofabitch."
"What I did to the punk is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you, Mrs. Foxhill," Ed Drake snarled as he reached out and dug his fingers into her shoulders. "I've always wondered how it would feel to throw a fuck into your expensive cunt. Tonight I'm going to find out. Come here."
Arab saw Brand wobble to his feet as she attempted to twist away from the strong fingers biting into her shoulders. Ed Drake's hands lost their grip. A curse ripped past his snarling lips as he hooked his fingers into the V of her white blouse and yanked; buttons popped free and the blouse gaped wide to reveal her loaded half bra.
"Damn you," Arab hissed, breasts bouncing in anger, "keep your filthy hands off of me!"
"No way, rich bitch," Ed Drake rasped as he reached for her again. "I'm going to put the prick to you, and there ain't nobody in this room big enough to stop me."
"That's what you think, you rotten sonofabitch!" Brand snapped as he charged across the room and cold cocked Ed Drake with a savage fist to the forehead.
Ed Drake dropped like a sack of wet shit. He was unconscious before his face kissed the floor.
Cherie Parten recognized a lost cause when she saw one and bolted toward the front door. She never made it. Arab watched Brand fist the girl's hair and spin her around to face him. He cocked his arm to strike her, then changed his mind. His expression was dead and cold as he shoved her away from himself. "You and your jock can bug off down the highway, but not with my money, Cherie." He plucked the roll of bills from her hand.
Cherie Parten's asscheeks flashed as she gathered up the rest of her clothing and started to leave.
Brand jerked a thumb toward the unconscious Ed Drake. "Take your damn garbage with you."
Cherie Parten dropped down beside the unmoving man and slowly revived him. Ed Drake wobbled to his feet and glared at Brand. He opened his mouth to say something but Cherie broke in quickly by saying, "Forget it, Ed. The goldfish just turned into a shark."
They left.
Arab stood in the center of the room, blouse torn, bra-covered breasts heaving with excitement, her face and voice reflecting concern as she asked, "Are you all right, Brand?"
He nodded somberly. "I am now."
She smiled timidly. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure."
A note of admiration crept into her voice. "The way you zapped that damn Ed Drake was something I never expected to see, Brand. I was really surprised when you came unglued."
"This seems to be a night for surprises," Brand said wryly. "I never expected to see you here tonight." He paused for a moment. "But I'm glad you came, Mother."
Hope was a brightness in Arab's deep midnight eyes. "Are you really, darling?"
Brand nodded again. "I really am glad you came after me tonight, Mother," he said tenderly. "I'll show you how much in a few minutes." He waved her toward the sofa. "Park it and make yourself comfortable. I have to go outside and get something from my car."
"Whatever you say, darling."
Arab stood with her back to the crackling flames. A feeling of pride washed over her. No weakling here. Standing before her was a man in every sense of the word, one who had fought to protect her from violation at the cruel hands of Ed Drake. Her heart ached. She longed to strip naked, to draw him between her legs and encase his long fat cock in her willing cunt ... and keep it encased there forever.
Arab sensed the uncertainty that gripped him. She searched carefully for the correct words. "Something magnificent happened to you tonight, Brand. Don't let that magnificent something drop dead at your feet."
"It won't drop dead. I know what I'm doing." A humble note crept into his voice. "All my life I've been a taker, Mother. I think it's time I started doing some giving back." He walked up to her, hands still behind his back. His eyes met hers and held them steadily. Then he brought his hands into view and placed the cypress paddle in hers. "I believe this belongs to you, Mother."
Arab nodded.
Brand wet his lips. His eyes never left her face. He spoke haltingly. "After the stupid way I've acted ... the things I've done to hurt you ... if you want to use that damn paddle on my ass ... I won't try to stop you."
Arab shook her head, smiled. "I don't want you for a slave, darling. I never did want you as a slave. To quote Lil Wheat, who is probably standing in the kitchen at this very moment with Mrs. Grabowski, listening to every word we utter, 'Love is a lot of things but love isn't ownership.' Do you understand what I'm trying to say to you?"
"I think so," Brand answered as his deeply tanned face softened in a smile and his long fat cock hardened in desire. "You're telling me that passion without compassion isn't worth the bed it's made on. You're telling me that you'd rather lay than flay."
"That's right," Arab laughed musically as she turned toward the fireplace and dropped the cypress paddle into the crackling and dancing flames. Her breath was warm on his chest and then his belly as she dropped to her knees before him and gripped his rock-hard prick with both hands. She kissed his beautiful cockhead, then purred, "So start laying, darling."
"That is precisely what I intend to do, my wonderful wanton," Brand replied huskily as he dropped to his own knees and pushed the leather vest free of her upper torso, then yanked at the half bra and tumbled her long-nippled breasts into nakedness. "Just as soon as I remove these tight panties of yours so I can get at your sweet and juicy cunt with my cock."
Arab released her grip on his cock and stretched out on her back to make it easy for him. She lifted her ass while he peeled the panties downward and exposed her cunt, then sat up and smiled dreamily while he tugged them clear of her ankles and tossed them on top of the burning cypress paddle. A moment later she stretched out on her back again and spread her legs to accept the greatest gift she could ever hope to receive—the gift of Brand's flesh.
Brand scooted between her legs, gently eased his magnificent prick into her cunt. He smiled down at her and said tenderly, "Mother, I'm home."
"It's where you've always belonged, you darling man," Arab murmured passionately as she tightened her cunt lips around the deliciously strong cock that filled her and brought her hips into play. Her dark eyes swam in tears of happiness. She breathed deeply. Her breasts surged upward, firm and high, pushing at him. Her arms snaked around his neck and she pressed her warm lips close to his ear. "And now that you are home ... stay as long as you like."
They fucked all night.