Chapter 10
Whether they were too hungry, or the novelty of having Sherry serve them au naturel had worn off, dinner passed without incident. They let her keep her clothes on and except for an occasional goose or brief feel, she served them unmolested.
By the time dinner was over, in addition to the quantity of food they'd put away, they also had finished off a bottle of whisky apiece.
"Why not?" Gus challenged. "What the hell else is there to do?"
Red looked across the table at Sherry and licked his lips. She was wearing the same pink dress she had on when Ben picked her up early that morning. Even before it was torn, a considerable portion of her breasts swelled over the top. Now almost all of them were exposed.
"You forgetting her?" Red asked.
Gus stood up and opened his fly. His gigantic pecker drooped out and lay on the table like a slumbering python. He looked down at it with disgust. "That's what booze does to it."
"Not me," Red declared climbing to his feet quickly and exhibiting his penis that stuck out of his fly like a red-hot tipped poker.
Sherry sat there staring in shocked dismay at the vulgar exhibition. Then as a sudden wave of nausea gripped her, she quickly turned her face away. How could men be so coarse, so ugly, so downright disgusting?
She was allowed little time to ponder the subject. Red came sweeping around to her side of the table with an obscene grin that left no question as to what he had in mind. Grabbing her arm, he yanked her roughly to her feet.
As Red began pulling her toward the bedroom, her eyes once more went to Ben who was seated at the far end of the table. Ben appeared as unperturbed as when Red collected his bet just before dinner. What kind of man was he, she screamed at herself in her brain? Even the lowest form of animal fights for his mate.
Louie's voice interrupted.
"Leave a screw in her for me," he called out as he turned in his chair so they could see the protuberance in his trousers. "Booze don't affect me none, either."
Red frowned at the long, dark-haired gunsel over his shoulder. "This time you stay the hell out here until I get finished, y'understand? You got any ass or cunt suckin' to do, you do it on your own time."
With a rude shove he sent Sherry through the doorway and slammed the door behind them.
Except for his abnormal staying power, Red was a man of very limited talents and even less imagination--especially when it came to sex. Man-above or woman-above were the only two methods he practiced or even cared about. Moreover, as far as he was concerned, a woman had only two areas of interest. Her breasts to suck and the slot between her legs to fill with his seed. Aside from the fact that when a woman climaxed, she proved to be a much better screw, he cared little or nothing about whether she got any enjoyment out of it. To his mind, she was there for the sole purpose of offering him relief until that purpose was achieved.
With Sherry now, he didn't change his order of procedure or his way of thinking one iota. The moment they were alone, he threw her onto the bed, tore off her clothes and ploughed into her, insensitively; banging away for what seemed an eternity until--what she had begun to believe was impossible--he shot his final load and the stiffness finally went out of him.
For all his depravity, Louie at least tried to make it interesting--for himself as well as for the woman involved. Louie never did it the same way twice in a row and every part of the female anatomy interested him. He could enjoy any departure from normal sexual intercourse that had ever been tried, in any orifice in the body, or between a woman's breasts, under her armpit, even in the hair atop her head. Like Red, once he was alone in bed with Sherry, he didn't change his basic pattern--only his modus operandi.
After a brief period of preliminaries, he suddenly turned Sherry over on her stomach before she realized what he was doing. With both hands on her waist, he held her down when she tried to flop over on her back.
"What--what are you doing?" she wanted to know, worriedly.
"Just hold still. You'll like it," he replied with assurance.
She was curious in spite of her concern. She held still. She felt his lips brush lightly from her waist downward. He kissed over her buttocks. His fingers probed intimately and she winced. She felt him nibbling at her tender flesh and sort of expected his tongue to repeat what he'd done to her earlier in the day when she was with Red.
But other things happened. She felt his spreading apart her cheeks and she protested feebly. He paid no attention. With added pressure he dug his hands into her sides, holding her down. She felt the heat of his muscular instrument against her flesh--the next instant it penetrated. The strange position made her even more aware of his entry. His hands moved forward and beneath her to cup her breasts and squeeze them. She wiggled and squirmed to try to get away. He stayed with her mercilessly, holding her tight as he made her accept him--all of him.
Head down, she endured this newest indignity. The image in her mind was that of two dogs, copulating. After all, wasn't this the animal way. She begged him to stop. But he continued to thump away at her as he slid one hand down from her breasts to dig between her legs and finger her clitoris. Fortunately for her he was quick. With a shudder, he collapsed atop her, catching the soft flesh of her shoulder in his teeth and biting hard--as the hot milky elixir shot out of him and found its way along her alimentary canal.
At least, this part of the ordeal was over. Because more like Gus than Red, Louie was a "one timer". It would take time, maybe until the following day, for the supply in his testes to be replenished.
After Louie left her alone, Sherry went into the bathroom, filled the tub with hot water and soaked for a long time. When she was finished and had thoroughly dried herself off, she took fresh sheets and pillow cases from the bathroom linen closet and carried them into the bedroom. The bed was badly rumpled, ugly stains on the sheets that made her feel ill. She stripped the bed quickly and made it afresh. Then she got into it and pulled the covers up over her naked body.
Denny had cleared the table and washed, dried and put away the dishes. So since her other duties had all been taken care of, there was no need for her to leave the bedroom.
She left the dim lamp on the nightstand burning and lay with her head on the pillow, eyes open, entertaining a stream of strange, mixed-up thoughts. Thoughts unlike any she had ever had before. She wondered if this was how a prostitute felt after she had finished servicing her customers? Did they lie in bed the way she was doing, their bodies tired and aching, looking forward with as much dread as she did to the next man who'd share her bed? Did they get as little satisfaction out of it as she did? Not that she hadn't experienced a certain number of thrills or sensations. She had, very definitely. But each time, it was merely to help her return to a reasonable state of physical balance, rather than any real fulfillment. Maybe whores didn't feel that way? Maybe nobody else felt the way she did? Because with her, fulfillment could come only when accompanied by love. The kind of love she'd once felt for Ben Drake.
It was while this thought was in her brain that she heard the bedroom door open slowly. She turned her head to see who it was. Her face clouded over and she experienced a terrible repugnance in the pit of her stomach as she saw it was Ben.
She kept watching him as he walked toward the bed. What chore had he come to tell her to perform now? She had prepared and served dinner . .. she'd taken care of his friends ... so what now?
It seemed as if in less than one day her brain had been washed to think of nothing but sex, her eyes disciplined to first focus on the front of a man's trousers and ascertain whether or not her presence had aroused him. Looking now at her husband, she saw he had come well-prepared and with a definite purpose.
He saw her eyeing his erection and smiled with self-confidence. As he halted alongside the bed and started to unbutton the front of his shirt, he paraphrased boastfully, "You've sampled the rest--now you're going to enjoy the best."
She looked at his protrusion, then lifted her eyes and met his gaze contemptuously. She wanted to deflate him, hurt him, say nasty things to him. She began with: "I wouldn't say the best. I'd say you rated no better than a poor fourth."
He laughed hollowly as if he immediately saw through her purpose.
"You just forgot," he said as he reached down and stripped the covers off her.
In the dim reflection of the bed lamp her soft flesh gleamed white hot against the clean, fresh-smelling sheets. As he allowed his eyes to rove her nakedness, he loosened his trousers, let them fall to the floor and stepped out of them. His shorts followed.
She looked at his pulsing penis. She hadn't forgotten. She remembered every little thing about him, each and every little thing they said and did together .. . including the tremendous thrill she got that first time he exposed himself to her view. It would have been so easy to feel that way now. So easy to give herself up to him and let him send her on another voyage into the far reaches of outer space. But that was the very last thing in the world, she wanted to happen, the last way she wanted him to make her feel. Any man who'd give his wife to three other men ... stand by and watch them profane her mind, violate her body, she wanted nothing more to do with--no matter what her flesh might dictate.
As he got into bed, took her feet in both hands and rubbed them over his genitals as a prerequisite to coitus, she tried to pull away from him but to no avail. In spite of the loathing she felt for him, she was afraid . .. afraid that once he began touching her, fondling her and succeeded in properly stimulating her, her body would betray her and she'd succumb to him and give herself to him as completely as she had ever done in the past. ..
"I don't want that!" she kept repeating over and over in her mind, frantically. "I don't want that to happen."
As she felt his lips kiss her feet and then work their way slowly up her perfumed legs, a kind of hysteria gripped her as she tried to think of ways to stop him . . . hurt him . . . prove to him she no longer loved him and in what low regard she held him. And then suddenly she thought of Gus in the next room.
She screamed his name, "Gus! Gus--come in here--please!"
"What the hell do you want with that ape?" Ben demanded.
The door opened. Gus, his shirt off and a half-empty bottle in one hand, stood in the doorway.
"What's all the yellin!?" he wanted to know, thick-tongued.
"Come here," Sherry cried out to him, beckoning him forward.
He came toward the bed, unsteadily.
"Get on the bed," she told him.
"What for? You got him." He indicated Ben.
"I want you," she insisted and coquettishly patted a spot on the bed where she wanted him to sit.
"S'no use," he muttered. "I told you when I drink ..."
At her insistence he finally sat on the bed. She pulled him closer to her. Ben watched and fumed and halted his kissing just above her knees.
Gus put the bottle to his lips but stopped as Sherry fumbled with his fly. She finally got it open.
"What the hell do you think you're going to do?" Ben demanded angrily.
Sherry didn't answer. Instead she took a deep breath as if to give herself the courage she'd need, then dug Gus' elongated snake out of his trousers. Even in repose it was an awe-inspiring thing. But she wouldn't allow herself to be appalled, though the mere thought of what she was about to do turned her stomach.
As Ben watched and Gus sat there in a sort of alcoholic stupor, Sherry brought the jumbo penis to her mouth. She didn't dare hesitate to kiss, or even lick it for fear she'd chicken out. Instead she opened her mouth wide and enveloped the enormous head of it in her lips. Almost at once, in the warm softness of her mouth, the snake stirred and came to life--to his surprise as much as her own. She could feel it getting bigger and bigger, stretching her jaws. Its huge size together with its overpowering man-taste gagged her and she wasn't at all sure she could go through with it. Then she heard Ben's voice rattling around in her spinning brain.
"You lousy cocksuckin' bitch," he spit at her venomously. "You wouldn't go down on me. But you'd do it for him. Okay--I hope he blows your goddamn throat apart."
Out of the corner of her eye, Sherry caught a glimpse of Ben's expression as he got off the bed and started toward the door. She didn't realize that she had ever seen such a look of abomination and hatred on anyone's face before in her life. It chilled her marrow and made her blood run cold. But at least she had accomplished her purpose, she'd let him know and feel her contempt for him.