Chapter 8
Never in his whole life had Arthur Webb felt so happy and contented. This was partly due to the fact that he had so openly defied Thelma by leaving the house without a word. But the most important reason for his happiness was the lovely blonde who lay beside him.
They were nude together, lying in the bed, resting after a wild session of passionate love-making. Terry's wide blue eyes were examining him while her hand moved playfully upon his chest. Arthur held one of her breasts gently, stroking with his fingers, teasing the nipple to hardness.
He rubbed the satiny flesh while lazy feelings of contentment swept over him. Gradually his animal lust was reviving, his hunger for her was returning.
"I love that-" she murmured.
Her fingers suddenly turned into claws that dug at his chest. She took a deep breath, which raised the lush globe that he held in his hand. When she exhaled, she uttered a drawn-out sigh.
Arthur was caught up by a sudden crazy need to express the way he felt about her. Bending his head, he kissed the breast he was holding. He ran his lips along the upper curve, then closed his mouth over the protruding nib. He felt the stirring of her desire as he kissed it tenderly.
All at once she was in his arms, her body arching as it pressed against his. Their naked flesh crushed together as if they had become one. He raised his head and kissed her full on the mouth. Her tongue was there, thrusting urgently, while she uttered soft murmurs of delight.
"I love you, Terry-" he whispered, before he was quite aware of what he was saying.
But it was true, and he was glad that he had spoken the thought aloud. It was another indication of the boldness which had become a part of his nature a boldness which Terry had revived with the offering of her passionate young body.
"Do you really?" she whispered.
Arthur looked into her eyes, and for a moment he was not certain that what he saw was pleasure or amusement. He was being serious, and he could not bare to think that she might mock him.
"It's true-" he murmured. "If only my wife...."
As he spoke the word, wife it left a bitter taste in his mouth. If only Terry instead of Thelma were his wife ... if only there were some way to escape Thelma...
"I'm glad you love me, Arthur. Even though you do have a wife. But you see how impossible that makes everything-"
"You love me too?" he asked, holding her tighter.
Her hands twined behind his neck, drawing his face closer to hers. The soft pressure of her lips started the tingling again in his bloodstream.
"I want to-" she whispered. "But I'm afraid...."
"Afraid of what?" he asked.
"We could never marry-" Her blue eyes clouded as tiny tears formed. "And anyhow you don't even know me yet. You don't know what I'm really like-"
"Of course I do-" he protested. "How could two people be more intimate?"
"No, Arthur there's another side to my nature, a side that craves strange things. If you should be unable to satisfy these lusts. . . "
She buried her head against his neck, and he could feel her trembling. His hands slid down the smooth curve of her back, began to caress her hips. She responded electrically and began to nip his flesh with her teeth.
When she raised her head, there was an animal expression of hunger in her eyes. Her nostrils were flared, for her breathing had become harsh panting gasps.
"Bite me that way, Arthur-" she pleaded. "Bite until I scream. I want you to hurt me-"
He stared at her in surprise. Was this what she meant by strange lusts? Did she want to feel pain? If so, she was entirely the opposite of Thelma, who took great delight in inflicting pain on others.
Arthur uttered a cry and sank his teeth in the pale flesh of her neck.
Terry came alive at once. She tossed beneath him, arching her body, giving herself up to the torment which she seemed to crave. He felt her breasts flatten against his ribs as he lay above her.
"Harder-" she cried.
And he did as she asked.
His teeth sank into her tender flesh so hard that he knew he would leave a bruise. But still she begged for more while her arms clung to him with wild desperation.
Then without warning she shoved against his face, pulling out of his embrace. She rolled off the bed and stood up. Her lovely golden hair lay tangled about her face, which was feverish with excitement.
"Lie there, darling-" she gasped. "I'll be back in a moment. There's something I want to show you."
Sliding the closet door, she took out a suitcase, which she opened on the floor. Arthur was amazed when she stood up holding a strange object made of brown rubber. Terry spread the top, and he saw that it was a girdle.
She stepped into it and slid it up her slim legs. As the girdle reached the flare of her thighs it clamped tightly and had to be forced upward. She wriggled her hips as she worked the girdle into place.
Then she turned around to give him a view from the rear. Arthur's mouth fell open, for there was an opening in the back of the girdle which left her buttocks exposed. The twin globes were bunched and squeezed together by the pressure of the surrounding rubber.
"What is that for?" he gasped.
"You'll see, darling-" Terry replied, giving him a wan smile. "There's more to come. This is only part of the costume. Watch-"
Leaning over, she took another object from the suitcase, and this too was made of the same brown rubber. When she spread it open and fitted it across her breasts, Arthur saw that it was a brassiere.
But what a strange kind of bra! He had never seen anything like it. There were openings in the cups which allowed her breasts to protrude part way. The round pink circlets and the hard nipples squeezed out in elongated cones, while the rest of her breasts were encased in the tightly clinging rubber.
"Now I'm ready-"
There was a strange wild look in Terry's eyes as she reached once more into the suitcase. This time she brought out a short piece of rubber hose which was about a quarter of an inch in diameter. Arthur saw that she was trembling with excitement as she walked toward the bed.
"Here, Arthur-" she said, holding out the hose to him. "I want you to whip me. I'm your slave, and you must punish me. And then-"
She bit the full curve of her lower lip as a strange, powerful emotion took away her ability to speak. Her eyes grew wide with anticipation.
For nearly a minute Arthur was too startled to do more than hold the piece of hose. But then slowly he began to warm up to the idea. There was something very exciting in the thought of ravishing her this way, of flogging her pale lovely body with the length of rubber.
Suddenly he too was quaking all over with a weird erotic craving. This was something entirely new to him for in his relationship with Thelma the roles had always been reversed. She had been the one to punish, and he the one who unwillingly had to bear the pain and humiliation.
"Whip me everywhere, Arthur-" she begged, sobbing with expectation. "My breasts everywhere."
She closed her eyes and stood before him, waiting in terror for him to strike.
All at once Arthur's eyes grew hard, for he was caught up by a strange new emotion. He felt a brutal need to hear her scream in pain, to whip her into submission and then to make love to her with a violence which he had never displayed before.
Reaching out, he caught her by the hair and dragged her toward the bed. He shoved her onto her back and leaned over her strangely clad body. His eyes were fixed on the conical peaks of her breasts, which were pushed up by the surrounding rubber of her bra.
Terry stared up at him wildly as he raised him arm. And then he brought it down, leaning all of his weight into the blow. The rubber struck solidly, curving across both mounds, leaving a vivid red mark.
Screaming, she arched up from the bed. Her body began to shiver in torment, but she did not try to roll away or cover herself as the next blow descended.
Arthur felt the rubber hose bite into tender flesh, leaving cruel welts on her pale skin. The throbbing nipples were a bright, glowing red. Terry writhed breathlessly upon the bed, her hands clawing the sheets.
Time after time Arthur struck down at her, growing more excited with each lash of the cruel rubber. His face was soon streaming with sweat. His whole body glowed with the wild, unnatural pleasure he was experiencing.
Terry stared at her naked, exposed breasts, a look of horror in her eyes as each lash of the hose turned her flesh to a glowing pink.
At last she began to sob, as though she had taken all the torment she could bear. But instead of trying to resist, she rolled over on the bed, offering her bare bottom to the same scourging torture.
Arthur paused to catch his breath. His gaze was drawn to the two rounded globes of her buttocks which were heaped up by the surrounding rubber girdle.
He lashed down with his arm, bending the rubber hose across her tender flesh. A bright red welt formed on the pale whiteness of her skin. Then another and another. He continued to flog her, and each pained cry only increased the intensity of his sadistic delirium.
Terry's body writhed, twisting away from the painful torture. Yet she was not really attempting to escape. Above the shrill sound of her cries, he heard the rasp of her breathing.
Something brutal in Arthur's nature fed on the terror of her pained cries, which she tried to muffle with the pillow. He became aware of a kinship with Terry a mutual sharing of dark, animal cravings. She hungered for torture, and he longed to do violence up to a point. He would not harm her permanently.
The truth was, they were perfectly suited to each other. Just as he and Thelma were poorly matched.
Not once had Terry pleaded with him to stop, so he continued to flog her while she tossed feverishly upon the mattress. Impulsively he flailed her tender flesh, aiming at her legs below the corset. Each blow drove a shock through her aching body, caused her to scream in pain.
And still he beat her, until he no longer possessed the strength to raise his arm.
His body was streaming with sweat, his heart pounding from the exertion. As he stood over Terry's inflamed, quivering body, he let the hose fall to the floor. His fingers no longer had the power to grip it.
Realizing that the torture had stopped at last, Terry rolled over onto her back. Her lovely face was wet with the tears that had streamed from her eyes.
"Take me now, darling-" she murmured, lifting up her open arms to him.
Arthur trembled with his own aroused hunger. The sight of her flushed body squeezed by the imprisoning rubber bra and girdle caused a twisting in his guts.
With a lustful cry he dropped upon her soft yielding body, which was burning hot from the fierce flogging. Terry wailed and clung to him, drawing him down upon her restless thighs.
Arthur was surrounded by the clinging warmth of her body. With unfulfilled violence he lunged at her, driving cries of sheer delight from her gaping mouth.
Arching her back, Terry reached up to receive his passion, her hips churning wildly, shamelessly. Her whole body rocked and squirmed in a frenzied rhythm of lust, while Arthur hammered at her like a demented beast. She had released the animal in him by giving her body like a sacrificial offering. She had released in him brute cravings which had lain dormant for many years.
Driven by the blind fury of his passion, he sank his teeth in her neck. Terry uttered a ragged cry and clawed at his back with sharp nails. Her body lifted up beneath his, churning and thrusting. Her legs scissored tighter around his waist, clinging to him in a fiery embrace while her hips swiveled rapidly.
Then Arthur felt a quaking in the depths of her body, and it ignited the fuse within him. Together they lifted up and over the summit. A series of violent jolts shot along his spine, tearing him apart, leaving him stunned and gasping for breath.
There was a blissful smile on Terry's lips as she fell back exhausted upon the bed. Her arms released him. But still he clung to her as he lay upon the incredible softness of her body. He did not want to let her out of his embrace. Something new had come into his life, and Terry had brought it to him.
He was aware of a new power, a stronger love than he had ever known. At last he had become the conquering male. And Terry had given herself to him, allowed herself to be overwhelmed by his manhood. This was what he had been seeking for so long. And now at last he had found it ...
He had dozed off, he did not know for how long. But when he awoke he discovered that somehow their bodies had become untangled. Terry lay facing away from him, her shoulders rising and falling with the gentle breathing of sleep.
Arthur felt an almost overpowering urge to waken her, to take her in his arms and cover her lovely face with kisses. But there would be time enough for that when she woke up. He would not disturb her now.
As he looked at her hair, which lay in golden profusion upon the pillow, he felt a warm glow fill his chest.
He loved her, and there was no denying it. Never before had he experienced such blissful contentment. The truth was that he had never really been in love before. Anything even remotely tender which he had once felt for Thelma could not be called love.
And through the years she had destroyed what little affection he had felt, along with his own self-respect.
He hated Thelma with a passion. More so now that he had found Terry. For Thelma stood in the way of his happiness. So long as Thelma was there, he could never have Terry in the only way which really mattered.
As his wife.
He would have to be content to see her now and then, when he could manage to evade Thelma's prying eyes. And if Thelma should ever find out then he would no longer be able to see Terry at all.
But Thelma mustn't find out.
Arthur shook his head bitterly, for he knew that sooner or later Thelma would learn all about Terry. She was probably suspicious already, for he had been away from home for several hours. Oh, yes Thelma would find out.
Arthur experienced a tightness in his throat as he gazed upon the pale-smooth beauty of Terry's body. He closed his eyes and remembered the intimate splendor of her thighs, the sweetness of her kisses.
How could he think of giving her up? He wanted her for his own all the time.
Every night he wanted to feel her presence beside him in the bed, to experience the intimate pressure of her arms around his neck, the greedy clinging of her body as they made love together.
But all that was impossible, because Thelma was in the way. She would always be in the way unless somehow she ceased to exist.
Arthur felt a sudden chill sweep along his backbone. He shivered from the horror of a fleeting thought. What if he should somehow iind a way to get rid of Thelma? Then all of his troubles would be over.
But of course that was impossible, and he knew it. He would never dare even contemplate murder. And yet, he might be willing to go through with it, if there were some fool-proof way in which it could be accomplished.
Suddenly he rolled off the bed and paced nervously across the floor. This was dangerous thinking. He could not permit himself even to speculate about such a thing. He had to drop the idea now, before it began to take root.
Passing through the bedroom door, he walked into the living room. As he stood looking out the window at his own apartment house across the way, he could hear the light sound of Terry's snoring.
He was turning away when something caught his interest. A pair of binoculars lay on an easy chair which had been turned to face the window. A vague smile spread on his lips. So Terry too had taken up the fad. Obviously she had used the binoculars to spy on the dwellers in his apartment.
He wondered if she had ever seen him, as he had so often watched her.
He raised the binoculars and peered across until he had located the windows of his apartment. It was easy enough to find because of the vase of flowers Thelma had placed on the cocktail table.
For nearly a minute he watched, but Thelma did not appear. No doubt she had given up waiting for him to return and gone somewhere herself.
Swinging the binoculars slowly, he began to scan the rows of windows, searching curiously for the kind of activity which he knew went on in his own apartment building just as it did in all the others. The people who lived there were just as human as they were anywhere else.
However, in the daytime there seemed to be a lack of activity. Many people were away, the majority of them probably at work. Still now and then he did see a human or two in some of the apartments, most of them engaged in harmless and uninteresting pursuits.
Then through one of the lower windows he discovered a torrid scene that was taking place on a bed.
He adjusted the eyepieces to bring the image into sharper focus. A woman lay on the bed, clad in leather garments much like the corset and other paraphernalia which Thelma wore. Her face was half hidden by her tangled dark hair. She was writhing in delirious torment, for the other woman was kneeling above her, clasping her waist, caressing her in the most sensual, erotic manner.
Arthur felt his blood tingling in his veins as he gazed raptly at the wanton scene. Then all at once he caught his breath and gasped aloud.
The woman had raised her head to look down at the other, and Arthur saw that she was his wife!
For a moment he could not believe his eyes. And yet why wasn't it possible? Knowing Thelma, he should realize that she was capable of any kind of deception.
Arthur ground his teeth together fiercely. It was even possible that she had been deceiving him this way for years. And all the while she had been so watchful and suspicious of him. She would scourge him with the viciousness of her tongue if he even dared glance at another woman.
Damn her!
She had made his life miserable for years, and yet she did not hesitate to seek her own pleasures in any way she felt inclined. Even with a woman!
An angry scowl clouded his face. He did not feel the least twinge of jealousy toward the other woman. How could you feel jealous of a wife you despised? What really made him boil was the knowledge that she could indulge herself in the most erotic kind of sexuality, yet if she learned that he too had a lover she would explode with fury.
There was no justice in this world. Perhaps a man should create his own justice...
Arthur continued to watch through the binoculars, stunned by the sight of his own wife making love. He saw her hands reach down in a fit of passion and caress the other woman's face. Then a strage thing happened. The light-colored wig the woman was wearing slipped off her head to reveal the hair style and face of a man!
It was true! A man dressed as a woman was making voluptuous love to his wife! This was even more fantastic. Suddenly he had become aware of how completely depraved his wife really was. And this monstrous bitch dared to rule his life!
Fierce hatred, like a blazing torch, ignited in his chest. He clenched his hands tightly, squeezing the binoculars. In that instant he knew that Thelma would die. He did not yet know how it would happen only that it was inevitable. Somehow she was going to meet the fate she deserved. He would see that she did.