Chapter 7
She had done it. All by herself, she had done it-murdered her daughter. "No, no!"
Betty stood in the living room, holding her head in both hands. That was crazy thinking. Nothing had happened. She hadn't been called by the police, and no one came knocking on her door with terrible news. Patty was overreacting, she hoped. Still . . .
Stories about young girls disappearing and later turning up maimed and sexually abused floated through her head now. More and more men were kidnapping girls Jacki's age and doing awful things to them-awful things! Betty hugged her body, feeling her flesh crawling as she thought of the tales of girls found beaten, wandering through the Angeles forest half-naked.
Again Betty shook her head, driving the thought from her mind. She couldn't let her self dwell on something like that or she'd go mad. She had to get herself under control. She'd give Jacki another few minutes to get home and then, yes, then she would call the authorities.
"Maybe a drink ..."
Betty gathered her robe about her, walking to the wet bar and pouring herself a tall Scotch. Raising the glass, she noticed the marks on her wrists. Incredibly she found herself smiling.
What had she become? Tilting the glass back, she took a long sip, feeling the burning liquor warming her belly. A whore, a slut, that was a nice term for it. But even whores got paid for what they did. She was doing it for fun, even looking for it! After all, she'd been the one who had circled Brad's name and phone number that fateful evening and given him a call. He was right. She and he were cut from the same cloth. The more he threw at her, the more she wanted.
"God!"
But what was she doing thinking about Brad? There was Jacki, Jacki who had just disappeared without a trace! Turning from the bar, Betty began to pace the living room slowly, keeping her head down, her fingers gripping the tall glass tightly. The ice tinkled merrily against the sides of the glass as she listened to the awful ticking of the wall clock. Her daughter, sent away purposely so she could gratify her lusts. And now she was paying for it, God was getting her for it. "Ohhhhh ..."
Betty tilted her head back and took another long sip. She was starting to feel a little giddy. It wouldn't look too seemly for her to greet her daughter a little drunk. After all, Betty had taken the time to lecture Jacki again and again on the evils of drinking.
Again she thought about the girl, about the possibility that she'd never come home again. Tears sprang to Betty's eyes, along with a real feeling of panic. No, no, she had to keep herself under control. Moving back to the bar, she poured herself another drink and was about to sip it when she heard footsteps climbing up the porch.
"Jacki!"
Setting her drink down, Betty rushed to the front door, not even peering through the long lace curtains that covered the Victorian-style windows and unbolted it.
"Jacki! I've been worried sick about you and-"
She stopped short, her fingers still clutching the molding. It was Brad!
"You!" Her eyes widened while her heart seemed to stop.
"Yeah. It's me, baby. Thought I left my keys or somethin' around here," he said, pushing back the stunned woman and closing the door behind her.
"What . . . what are you doing here?" she gasped, horrified that he could have come into her house unannounced.
This wasn't part of their agreement! What if Jacki suddenly came bounding in and found him-with her? What could she say to her daughter? Worse yet, what would he do to Jacki? What if . . . what if he became interested in her, tried to drag her into, oh God, this kind of thing? Betty groaned inwardly, rubbing her fingers along her upper arms. She had to get rid of him as quickly as possible.
"Got a case of the hornies, if you want to know the truth. Thought about callin' up, and did, but your line was busy. Linin' up more fucks, baby?" Brad said, smirking at her, then swaggering past her and heading for the bar. He stopped, picked up her half-finished drink, then turned and winked at her.
"Couldn't sleep, eh? Me neither," he said, tilting his head back and finishing the Scotch. Betty stood there in the hall, hugging herself, wondering how on earth she could get rid of him without appearing suspicious. She hadn't told him about her daughter. As far as he was concerned she lived alone-a sex-hungry spinster who just needed men.
"I'm a little tired. Couldn't you ... we .... talk about this later?"
Brad arched his eyebrows, setting the glass down hard on the bar.
"Didn't come all the way over here to talk, baby, or get the brush-off. You got it bad-like me. I kept thinkin' about the way you was movin' this evenin' . . . man, you got a hungry cunt and ass, know that?"
Betty stiffened, her breath catching at his words. Somehow now they seemed inappropriate, offensive to her.
"Please ..." Again she thought of Jacki.
"That's it," he breathed, his eyes narrowing while his breathing became shallow, raspy. "I dig it when you beg like that. You dig it too, right?"
There was just no talking to him. Everything she did excited him, made him want to touch her, to . . . fuck her!
"And now . . . well, what the fuck? Let's do it, baby, really get it on now."
He started for her, swaggering like the brute he was, his smile curling up more cynically under that thick, black moustache of his. Betty drew back, shaking her head from side to side. No, no, she couldn't go through it again. She couldn't let him touch her like that, not with the possibility of her daughter coming through that door at any moment!
"Please, Brad, please, just get out of he You came here already tonight. I don't want you . . . you touching me any more."
He stopped, his breath catching.
"You ain't got a choice, baby. I want you and I'm gonna take you, whether you wanna puke or not!"
She cringed at his words. Betting knew he was telling the truth. But still she couldn't bring herself to let him take her.
"Get out!" she cried, backing toward the door. Unbolting the door, Betty pulled it open, standing to one side and pointing toward the street with her free hand. "Get out or I'll-"
"Or . . . what?"
He ran toward her, knocking her away from the door with one hand while slamming it shut. The force of the banging door knocked several small portraits from the wall to the floor.
"Don't-"
"Shut up! You talk too much sometimes, baby. You're better off just fuckin'."
With that Brad gripped her shoulders, his voice growing louder, almost shrill as he turned her around and backed the woman toward the living room. He gave her a push, sending her sprawling backward. Betty's arms jerked out for balance, her right foot striking one leg of the end table. The china lamp teetered dangerously, rattling around while the woman stumbled back, back from the approaching stud.
"You fuck real nice. Got a hot pussy, hot ass for my cock. Man, couldn't get that cunt outta my mind. The way you kept throwin' it up into my face . . . mmmmmmm, yeah, baby you're one hot bitch," Brad said, reaching down and cupping her fingers around his crotch.
His words stung her pride, made her feel lower than she'd ever felt before in her life. It was as if they were both wallowing in the gutter and were enjoying flinging the much at one another. It was too horrible to contemplate. What was her sexuality leading her into?
"Stop it!"
"Strip, baby, come on, strip and show me that body," Brad ordered.
When Betty refused, he moved up to her, grabbing her hair and jerking her head up against his chest. The woman screamed, her teeth rattling while she felt that tearing pain once more in her scalp. She was breathing in short, shallow gasps, feeling his free hand reaching around, untying her bathrobe, then flinging it open. In a moment she felt the soft material sliding from her shoulders, puddling around her feet.
"Yeah, like that . . ."
He let her go, throwing her forward. Betty stumbled, regaining her balance. She leaned heavily against the sofa. He had to get out o here. He had to!
He gripped her hair again, pulling her back against him. Betty struggled, her tits slapping wetly against one another. Her feet dance over his, her ass brushing up against he crotch.
"Bitch," he whispered in one ear, one hand sliding around her waist.
Betty felt his fingers crawling over her belly sliding through her cunthairs. And then . . oh God, then it began, his sadistic sexual play began! She yelped, her cuntal and bell muscles tightening while her thighs close around his wrist. He had jammed his finger into her pussyhole, twisting them around an around.
The woman cried out, throwing her head back, feeling the jagged fingernails tearing a her pussymeat. And yet instead of cries of pure pain the woman found herself moaning under her breath with forbidden pleasure. Oh God, her daughter, her daughter. And all she could think of was her cunt . . . that and his cock shoving back and forth over her ass.
"Oh! Ohhhhh!"
She felt his fingers shoving in and out of her cunthole, fucking her! Instinctively the woman began pumping her hips back and forth as well, gasping for breath. Oh God, God, she was so excited! In a few moments she had gone from zero to high.
Moving his fingers up, Brad opened up his hand, then pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger. Rolling it around like a little pea, he squeezed harder. Betty saw stars, hunching back against the big man even harder, croaking out cries of sexual hunger. Still he pressed harder, rubbing his knuckles over her bloated outer labes, hunching his groin against her cuntlips.
"Oh!"
The excitement rose in her like an exploding pinwheel. Oh God, she was so high she couldn't control herself! Gasping and panting like a bitch, she felt herself spilling piss onto his hand.
"Goddamn it!" Brad muttered.
The big stud jerked his hand away, shoving his fingers into her face. Betty smelled the piss and jerked her head away.
"No!"
When she refused, twisting in his tight grasp, Brad reached down with her free hand and squeezed her ass, shoving his left knee into her back. Betty groaned, her jaws parting. That was all he needed, shoving the fingers between her lips. She licked them, choking on the taste, wrinkling up her nose at the smell. Brad laughed, pleased at the way the bad joke had turned out.
He pushed her forward hard. Stumbling, Betty pitched headlong onto the sofa. Her hands and knees hit the cushions, her body angling to one side and rolling hard against the back. Shaking the loose hair from her eyes, she peered up at the big man, watching him taking off his belt. He was holding it by the buckled end, then doubling it, tapping the smooth black leather against his thigh. She shrank back, pressing her spine against the soft material.
"Over, man, over and show me that sweet ass," Brad muttered.
Feeling rushes of fear mixed with those of unspeakable pleasure at the anticipation of a belting, Betty tucked one leg under the other, turning around, pressing her chin in the pillow and waiting for the touch of that awful belt!
"Oh God, God," she muttered, ashamed of her actions, and yet wagging her ass from side to side begging for abuse.
"Yeah, pray to your God, baby. It's the same one as mine, but it ain't the one the nuns pray to," Brad said, dragging the cold leather across the backs of her legs.
Betty shivered, pushing her fists into the pillows and digging her knees into the cushions. Her nipples were growing hard, hot and stiff again, moving across the sofa material. That clock ticking behind her seemed to grow louder, more intimidating as the woman waited for the first blow of that belt to fall. "Yeahhh . . ."
Betty felt his eyes studying her, examining every soft curve of her body. She felt proud of her body, proud that it could excite a man like -what in God's name was she thinking of? Again thoughts of her missing daughter filled her mind. What kind of mother was she, wallowing here in her own filth while her daughter was God only knows where?
"Stop it Brad. Please, stop it and let me go! I've got to . . ."
She started to rise from the couch. A stinging blow from the doubled belt knocked her back down to the sofa.
"Ufhhhhhh ..."
The crack of leather against flesh echoed through the large living room. Betty howled, shoving her head up over the armrest, gripping one of the sofa cushions with both hands. The sparkling heat on her ass shot like an electric jolt to her clit, making the tiny spindle sputter like a Roman candle.
"Movin' that ass for more, eh?"
Betty felt her clit spasm again as another belting blow fell across both asscheeks. Her ass jiggled under the attack, the sting of the slapping leather bringing tears to her eyes. She began moving her thighs subtly from left to right, enjoying the scratching sensation of the sofa cushions rubbing over her cuntlips and clit. Heat began to rush up and down her cuntal sheath while her clit stood up and sparked.
Again Brad swung the belt. The black leather hissed through the air, coming down on her clenched ass harder than the other two times. Betty screamed, her body jerking to the right as if someone had kicked her in the ribs. The belt smacked dryly, raising a small red welt just to the right of her asscrack.
"Oh God, God!"
Her ass burned so! The heat tore through her ass, spreading strangely into her pussy. He kept hitting her again and again, pain alternating with pleasure. Betty squirmed and whimpered, clawing at the couch material as the belt thrashed over her.
Long red marks criss-crossed over her ass, Betty's cries mingling with the pants of Brad. Oh, how that leather burned . . . burned so deliciously! She knew Brad could tell he was exciting her. He was an expert at this, driving her up the wall of excitement, then letting her slide down a little before striking her again and pushing her back up, up toward the ultimate aroused state.
"Unnghhhhh ..."
The searing pain had spread into her cunt, heightening the feeling throbbing in her clit. Each slapping, spanking blow sent vibrations shooting into her cunt, making her gasp for more, beg for more. Desperately the woman clutched the sofa cushions, her eyes blurred with tears as the belt kept sizzling through the air, biting into her flesh.
"Ohhhhh ..."
The beveled end of Brad's belt was attacking her now, curling around the bottom of her asscrack and nearly touching her cuntlips! She snapped her body again, chewing the pillow and hiding her face in the couch. Betty kept her asscheeks tense, instinctively opening and closing them rhythmically, matching the blows from the belt.
"Damn it, baby, you're one hell of a hot bitch!"
He stopped. Betty was raising her ass up in an attempt to absorb the last of the attack.
"Goddamned hypocrite," he growled, throwing the belt down. "You can tell me you can't take it, then you stick your fuckin' ass up in the air and beg for more!"
Betty blushed under the truth. Brad picked up his belt and rethreaded it through his pant loops. He sat down, the couch sagging under his weight. She could smell his sweat, his excitement next to her. Betty shoved her face further into the pillow.
"You get me real hot, baby, make my prick stand straight up. I remember how your fuckin' mouth felt against my cock. Now we're gonna feel how your ass is."
"What?"
She pushed her body up, nearly standing on her hands and knees before Brad shoved her back down onto the sofa. She could hear his trousers opening, hear the rustling of cloth sliding over flesh. Again the woman tried getting up from the sofa, and again she felt Brad's hands shoving her down. Then he reached around, grabbing one of the pillows in front of her and shoving it under her hips, just below the last rib.
He moved back, kneeling behind her, hooking his fingers around her pelvis and angling her ass up. Betty sobbed with renewed humiliation and terror, feeling cool air blowing up against her asshole. He was going to ass-fuck her! Never, never in her life had a man done this to her! But here it was-about to happen!