Chapter 8
Jill didn't feel like she was all together any more: She tried to go back to her old life, do the things she did before, be a loyal lover and housewife to her husband. They saw more of each other now that the pressure was off him at work, and he fucked her often.
But it just wasn't the same.
Her pleasure was real when she cried out in the dark while Paul fucked her. But she was only thinking of Ben, and she didn't come with Paul. It was only later, during the day. She would take the filthy pictures out of hiding and use the vibrator she'd bought. She could come then.
She even put clothespins on her nipples to bring the good come from her cunt. It was as -close as she could get to Ben's kind of fucking. One night she'd even screwed , up her courage and called Ben. But she hung up right away when it was Francine on the other end. At least she still had Paul, little comfort that he was. He'd been an angel-she told him she got laid off. He agreed it was certainly a shame, and he catered to her moods.
When he fucked her, she longed to tell him what she wanted. But she knew what he would think. He might even divorce her. And he was the only thing left in her empty life.
Sometimes, she even longed to tell him what she'd done, no matter what he'd think. If there was only a way. Jill didn't know it, but her chance was going to come sooner than she expected.
Or wanted.
Paul acted so calm and normal at first that she didn't suspect a thing. She put the groceries away, then went down the hall into the bedroom. She wanted to change before she fixed supper.
Her heart nearly stopped when she saw the five bills laying out on the dresser. She thought she'd hidden them. Hadn't she?
"Hello, darling," Paul said. "I was just wondering where all this money came from." "Oh, that?" She spoke breezily, trying to act casual. "That was part of what I made on my job. I was, uh, saving it for a rainy day." "You must be expecting a hell of a storm. You, ah, paid the rent, too, didn't you?" he said evenly and cautiously.
"Why-yes." Her voice faltered.
"And groceries. And a couple other bills. Add it up, Jill. You mean to tell me you were making more per week than I do, door to door, and you got fired?"
"Laid off." She started to sweat.
"Then let's hear you explain these!" he roared. The incriminating pictures flew all over the dresser top. She couldn't say a word, and she looked at him imploringly.
He slapped her. The blow sent her spinning, and she raised her arms to protect herself. "Let me guess." The next swipe of his hand brought her to her knees. "You were fucking every man who came along, and doing it for money! Meanwhile I'm out working my ass off so we can buy a nice home! For what? For some slut of a wife to fuck her customers in?" He hit her again. "You faithless bitch! After all I've given you! You ought to be horsewhip-ped!"
Jill shuddered. If he only knew what that would do to her!
"It wasn't like that, let me explain-"
But he shut her up with another slap across the mouth. He pulled her up and threw her on-to the bed, jabbering at her, cussing her out. He slapped her every time she tried to say anything. He pummelled her and ripped off her clothes, and now he trapped her hands.
"Now I know where you got those marks!" he said, looking at her wrists like he hadn't seen them before. Her clothing was in shreds. "And your titties," he hissed, squeezing and pushing them up to examine the faded red lines under each boob.
He wanted to beat the shit out of this woman who was supposed to be his wife. He squeezed her tits until he thought they would pop, vengefully forcing a moan out of her.
"You let them do everything, didn't you? You let them do things I'd like to do right now!"
His words didn't really penetrate. Jill only wanted to save herself from him.
"They made me!" she managed to get out. "Don't lie to me!" he slapped her.
He thought of the pictures and slapped her again. They were of his wife doing every imaginable thing with countless other men. The scenes turned him on when he looked at them, and now his horniness cut through his anger.
By God, he'd get his revenge! There was one picture . . . yes, he'd do that first! Her mouth!
He moved up on the bed until his knees were in her armpits. Then he turned her head and angled his dick into her mouth.
The familiar feeling of a cock in her mouth revived her. At first she didn't know what was going on, but she figured it out soon enough. Automatically, she blew his prick.
He hadn't expected such a quick reaction. She never used to do him that well, and her newly-acquired ability confirmed everything he suspected.
"That's it, you cheap whore. That's all you're good for." He bore down, not caring if she choked on his cock, but she took it all with strange little gulping sounds. It pleasured him, but it also inspired fresh loathing in him.
"Shit!" He pulled his cock away angrily. She didn't seem like the same person to him anymore. She was a wanton slut, a bitch to be taught a lesson.
Her pussy was dry as a bone, but he didn't care, especially when he found she was wetter deep in her cunt. His rage and his hard cock demanded that he fuck her there. He ignored the initial friction on his cockhead and shoved on in. Soon, very soon, her cunt juiced more.
"Whore!" He jammed her pussy. She babbled, even as his cock wreaked its vengeance. He was the last person in the world who cared about her-she couldn't bear to lose him! She wasn't sure he was really listen-ing to her, but she told him about how Ben raped her. She didn't mention the landlord or the other men, but she said Ben had forced her, blackmailed her, used the pictures to make her obey her perverted whims against her own desires.
"He made me do it!" she screamed time and again. Near the end she wasn't exactly sure what she was saying, but she hoped it was getting through to him.
"You ... fucking ... liar!" That she still had the guts to lie infuriated him more. His nearly-coming cock slipped from her pussy, and he raised her legs until her asshole was a perfect target. And, holding her tight, he push-ed his cock all the way in.
Then final degradation smothered her. In one furious rush, she came, and she couldn't hide it. Her asshole pinched so tight around his dick that it triggered his jism into her ass.
Done with her, he didn't linger. He waited until she stopped moaning and crying, wat-ching his come drip slowly from her asshole to stain the sheets. To him she was a ruined shell of a woman, but he felt a slight tug of pity.
"Don't lie to me now! Is any of that shit you told me true?"
Jill's body burned. She only wanted to redeem herself in his eyes and save herself. "Yes! All of it, I swear! he raped me and raped me, and then had other men do it! I didn't want to, I swear it! Oh, please, Paul, believe me. It's all true!"
She wondered if he'd buy it. She hoped against hope as he just stood there and studied her for a second. And then she knew how miserably she had failed, and she knew he was going to kill her. Because, before her very eyes, Paul was slipping the cartridge clip into his automatic pistol.
On the bed she cowered in the corner against two walls. He finally looked at her, a thin smile curling his lips.
"Don't worry, this isn't for you. Shooting would be too good. This is for Ben Spears. Now get dressed and let's go find him."
"Deeper. Lick it deeper, baby," Ben said. Francine pressed her naked titties against the edge of the table that he was lying on. She darted her agile tongue out teasingly, thrilling to his groan of pleasure when she got it well into his asshole.
"Jesus, that's nice! Keep it up. Shit, yes!" Francine hardly needed to be told. There was nothing more exciting to her than having a man as hot-tempered and ... well, dangerous as Ben Spears writhing with the kind of pleasure she could give him. No ropes or chains for her, even if she didn't mind it once in a while. It didn't take that to make her do anything he told her to do.
She dove into her task gladly, stroking her fingers up and down his shaft. She was going to make him feel so good! She kept tonguing him until she felt him start to come, squeezing his prick as hard as she could. She felt her pussy with her free hand.
"Oh, shit ... it's coming, it's coming!" he growled. No sooner than he'd spoken than she covered his dick with her lips. She brought her cunt-stroking finger into play on him now, driving it deep into his ass.
His groan was pure erotic pleasure. But it was nothing compared to the one she coaxed out of him when she started moving her finger-tip rapidly, stroking his prostate and banging the rim of his asshole with her knuckles.
Francine knew how to give a man pleasure. She imitated her finger with her tongue now, and in a second the jism went pouring down her throat.
"Jesus Christ!" Ben said when he could talk again. "That was good!"
"Now it's your turn to do me like that!" She had longed for his cock in her cunt, but she wanted it to wait a little longer.
"Don't make a move." Ben sat up on his elbows anO saw a man he didn't know. And from ten feet away the man pointed an automatic pistol right at Ben's eyes.
"What in the hell-"
"Shut up! Or I'll blow you away right now, you son of a bitch. I see you don't stop with wrecking just one woman's life, fucker. Stand up while you can!"
"Hey, wait a minute, buddy! I don't know who you are, but-" And then he understood. Jill stepped into the room. Maybe Paul would listen to her now. Maybe she could still save herself.
"Please don't do anything stupid, Paul! Let's get out of here now!"
"Jill's husband," Francine whispered. Paul didn't know her, but she knew him.
"So you're the other slut in the pictures. Figures. And this is Ben Spears, the man who raped my wife!" His hand tightened on the pistol grip.
"Mister, hey, listen now-"
This was a nightmare, but Francine giggled. She couldn't help it. This scene with Jill and her outraged husband didn't jibe with what Francine knew about Jill. Besides that, Ben looked so funny cowering naked there beside her. There was something fishy about the way Jill tugged at her husband's sleeve.
"What are you laughing at?" Paul snarled. "At you," Francine said, feeling brave. "At what you said. Your wife is the biggest whore this side of the Mississippi."
"You're asking for it too! That bastard raped her!"
"Only because she begged him for it," Francine spat out. "Didn't you, Jill?"
"No! No!" But Paul saw from the panic in her eyes that she'd been lying. He grew cold again. It was just like he'd thought all along.
Ben saw his chance. "If you don't believe her, look at the pictures in that drawer," he said. Paul pushed Jill toward them and kept all three of them covered while he went through the photos, one by one. She wasn't tied up in any of these. Gradually it was obvious that Jill wasn't unwilling at all. She loved it. Her face had never looked like that when he was fuck-ing her.
Until tonight. He remembered. It made sense now. Her face when he hit her.
Jill broke down. She told him everything. The real story. How she had wanted it. How it made her feel. Mr. Hubbard and his son. Everything.
Then, with a moan of total humiliation, she crawled to her husband and pulled his cock out of his pants. She took it in her mouth. The safety clicked on the gun, and he smiled bitter-ly down at his wife.
"Now, I want a repeat performance, with me first. Forget what I said about a divorce. We're going to have a long future together, you and me. Any maybe a few others. Move it, bitch."
There were only two men this time, but the fact that one of them was her husband made her pussy juice with the worst humiliation of all. In a moment Ben pushed her head into Francine's cunt and she lapped eagerly. Paul nodded his approval as Ben bound her hands and wrapped her titties. At Paul's bidding he used all chains this time.
Ben snapped them together with a padlock. He handed the key to Paul.
Jill's twisted cunt-hunger was stronger than ever before. It had been so long! Soon they had her begging and moaning, and there was new conviction in her voice.
When her husband leaned over and pinched her nipples and whispered in her ear the sexy things they were going to make her do, she came right there, kneeling on the floor eating out Francine's cunt. She had no secrets now, and the only thing left for her was to accept the pain and pleasure and ultimate fulfillment of truly belonging to her man. Her pussy shud-dered with another mind-blowing orgasm. "You understand now," Ben said.
"Of course," Paul said, taking the whip from him. "You were only giving her what she wanted. So will I, now. Who am I to stand in the way of my wife's ... new career?"
Slowly, and not for the last time, Jill's hus-band raised the whip above her quivering ass. She moaned desperately in pleading anticipa-tion,