"The Willing Mrs. Talbot" - читать интересную книгу автора (Unckown)

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Chapter 1

They would not be received until eight o'clock. That was typical, she thought. She lay on the bed, gazing at the ornate ceiling above her head, wondering, idly, when the old bastard would install mirrors over the bed.

She knew the son of a bitch peeked in on his guests now and then, for she had discovered, on their last visit, the small hole beside the portrait on the far wall. It had amused her then, but she was growing more irritated, these days.

She sighed and shifted her position, impatiently, on the huge, soft mattress. She could dream of putting it to good use, but knew, grimly, that such an enticing experience as she might imagine was more than likely not to come about.

She could hear the water running in the shower, where her husband was bathing himself, and she wondered for perhaps the hundredth time, why she could not talk him out of skipping this weekend with the clan.

God, she thought, it's going to be unendurable. It was bad enough to have married into the Talbot family, but to have to put up with them over a long weekend, was just to much to ask of a woman.

She smiled to herself, crookedly, then, shaking her head. Now, Maggie, she scolded herself, you didn't try all that hard to talk him out of it, did you? She knew, in her heart, that she hadn't.

Big things were happening, not the least of which, was the fact that E.G. was drawing up his will. She wasn't all that greedy, and could depend on her own wealth if she had to, but she was determined that Dash wasn't going to get cut out of the will by his brother and her scheming sister-in-law.

E.G. looked fondly upon her, she knew. Hell, a lot more than just fondly, she thought with an inner chuckle. The old bastard would like to get into my pants, if he could. Would probably like to do more than that, she added to herself, with a cold shudder.

She was suddenly remembering the dark stories that Dash hinted at now and then. He would not tell her anything more than the fact that the old man had been a harsh disciplinarian.

"He didn't believe in sparing the rod," Dash had told her grimly. "That was about the only thing he didn't believe in."

She had seen the faint traces of scars on his back, shoulders and buttocks, and the long, thin line that ran down his cheek, and often wondered where they had come from. Whenever she mentioned them, he would refuse to talk about it, and that scared her just a little more.

"Let's just say, I had a rocky time growing up," he would tell her, by the torte of his voice, signaling that he wished to cut off all conversation concerning his childhood at that point.

She had met him at a party the Talbot's had given in honor of his first starring role on Broadway. Dashiell Talbot was their second son, tall, dark and wiry, unlike the massive presence his father presented.

She had been impressed with the family, then. For the Talbot's were known the world over as the First Family of the stage. Even then, she had been wary around the father, huge, overpowering Edmund Gorey Talbot, known as E.G.

The man was fierce in his presence, and easily dominated any sphere or circle he entered. His wife Laurel was small and compact, but equally as powerful, in a more subtle fashion. She seemed to be able to temper his force, though of course, bowing to it, always.

As for Talbot's older son, he resembled the father in bulk and features, but not in power. Winston Talbot was a weaker man, and known mainly for the character roles he played in movies and on television. That he was jealous of his younger brother's success and talent was evident to Maggie from the first.

Maggie Bishop had been a struggling young actress then, fighting for the meager parts she was able to get, while trying to keep her legs crossed in the process. She couldn't be had just for the promise of a walk-on, and that gave her a reputation of being a bitch.

But she had been determined not to lay her way to the top, but get there on merit and achievement and had bristled when the rumors flew about why she married young Dashiell Talbot. It seemed that the press and public would believe everything said about her but the truth.

Dash had charmed her from the beginning, never coming on very strong with her, never trying to use her as a toy on his climb to the top. He had treated her with dignity and respect, and she had fallen in love with him for it.

Though he projected an image of daring and power, of sexual fury that could explode at any moment, in reality, she had found him quite shy. He was almost old-fashioned in the way he treated her, never once attempting a pass whatsoever.

They dated in a formal manner that she hadn't observed since she was a girl in high school. Maggie Bishop was no prude, nor a virgin either, but Dashiell Talbot treated her as if she were made of delicate china.

They had finally married just a year ago, and this was their third visit to Talbot Manor. The first two had been uneventful, for E.G. and his wife were starring in a play at that time, leaving she and Dash alone for the better part of the visits.

She could mark her husband's failing passion from the first visit, and it seemed to increase with the, second. Now, as she lay on the bed, her third time in the huge, massive mansion the elder Talbot's called home, she wondered when and if Dash would ever find her attractive again.

Something about returning to this house seemed to cast a pall over her handsome husband. Seemed to make his soul go as cold as ice, his passion wither like a vine in the midst of winter.

She was determined to find the cause of his dwindling of romantic lust. She had no intention of losing his passion for her, any more than giving up his rightful place in E.G.'s will.

The shower suddenly ceased in the bathroom and she sat up on the bed, not bothering to close the robe she was wearing, against her naked body beneath it. At twenty-seven, she had a perfect figure, full-bodied and firm, and she loved to entice her husband with it, whenever she could.

Already, a bit of excitement was trembling in her loins. She wondered if E.G. was spying on them right now, wondered if the old man was gazing through his little peep hole at her ripe, up-lifted breasts. Casually she ran the soft palm of her hand back and forth across her nipples, bringing them to a stiff, taut erection.

She allowed the robe to fall open a little more, and dropped her free hand to her lap. Her mound was covered with the same thick, silken strands of rich, black hair that crowned her head, and she roamed the tips of her fingers idly through the damp thatch of hair, now.

She shivered as she rubbed her fingers against her trembling vaginal lips. The luscious warmth rippled through her loins suddenly, and she groaned as she playfully toyed with the smooth, warm lips.

She leaned against the back of the bed, imagining her fingers to be her husband's hand, and kneaded her pussy mound anxiously, now. She squeezed her big, round breasts with her other hand, and slithered two fingers into her pit, now turning them lovingly against her inner walls.

"Ohh, Dash, Dash, my strong darling," she murmured softly to herself. Her eyes were shut tightly, now and she was trembling with increasing violence. "Umm, yes, my love, ohh, yes, it's so good!"

Her fingers danced in and out of her quivering tunnel, now slicing back and forth against her inner walls with a teasing, passionate force. She had always loved sex when it was good and right for her, and even just the dream of her husband was enough to send the powerful, surging pleasure tearing through her, wildly.

"What the hell are you doing, Maggie?" came a half snarl from in front of her.

She opened her eyes, lazily and smiled, not pausing for a moment in her caressing of her aching pit. "Ummm, just dreaming of you, Dash," she whispered sensuously.

The young man staring at her twisted his face up into a mask of distaste. "Well, for God's sake, knock it off," he said impatiently. "You don't have time to play with yourself, we have to get ready for the old man's party."

Maggie laughed, her voice rich and melodic, sending a stab of painful regret into her, husband's groin. She grinned at him, shaking her head and chuckling softly.

"Well, my dearest," she sighed contentedly. "If you would only give me a hand, here, I could take care of business so quickly!"

"Come on, Maggie," Dashiell Talbot groaned in weariness. "You know I don't like to mess around in this place."

He stepped over to where his wife lay and pulled her hand away from her trembling, enticing mound. He could see the glistening of the thick, creamy love juice that coated the hair of her hillock, and his prick trembled with agony behind his robe.

"Now stop it, baby, I mean it," he whispered in a husky voice. "Winston and Nola are right next door, they might hear you!"

"Ohh, Dash, let them listen," she moaned, reaching up and tugging on the belt to her husband's robe. "Who cares if they hear! They might learn something!"

"She could see her husband's cock, throbbing a bit between his hairy thighs and she giggled as she cupped his balls in her smooth, warm palm. "I can see I've aroused some interest, here," she laughed once more. "No matter what you pretend, my darling! These little nuggets don't lie!"

Growling, Dash pushed her away once more. "God damn it, Maggie, I mean it," he snarled again. "Now get in there and take your shower, I don't want to be late!"

"Ohh, the hell with the God damn party," she hissed back at him. She clutched at his thighs then, pulling her face to his groin. "I want you, Dash, and I need you, right now! What's more important to you, damn it?"

Dashiell Talbot felt his wife's lips against his balls, her sweet, pink tongue lathering the hairy sack, hungrily. He groaned thickly, the pleasure suddenly roaring through his flesh, making his cock grow thick and hard against her cheek.

"Damn you, damn all of you," he moaned, twisting to free himself from his wife's eager grip. "Why can't you leave me alone!"

"I won't leave you alone, darling," Maggie murmured, kissing and licking his shaft, greedily, now. "You are my only love, my true darling, I want you, more than anything else on earth!"

She tried to take his cock in her mouth, now, but he cocked his hand and slapped her hard across the face, knocking her to one side. She gasped with the blow, the impact still stinging in her cheek as he glared down at her.

"I mean it, damn you," he hissed almost breathlessly. "I'm not in the mood for this. It's hard enough being here as it is, without having you pawing all over me!"

"What's the matter with you, Dash?" she growled back at him. "What has gotten into you, lately? Are you afraid of me or something?"

Dashiell Talbot laughed nervously, backing away from the bed, shaking his head. "Of course not, I just don't like being vulgar, that's all," he said, weakly. "I just think there's a time and place for everything."

Maggie Talbot climbed off the bed, now, her cheek warm and still ringing with the memory of his slap. She followed him as he backed away from her, almost as if he were in retreat from her passion.

"Time and place?" she laughed bitterly. "I wonder when that might be, since you haven't found either for the last three months! Ever since that last time we stayed here, you have been cold as ice, now tell me why?"

Dashiell Talbot turned his head to avoid her glaring, demanding gaze. He slipped quickly out of his robe and pulled a pair of under shorts over his hips. "I've been working hard, Maggie, you know that."

"Not that hard, Dash," she countered quickly. "And that's no reason anyway. I work just as hard as you do, and it seems it hasn't dulled my passion, any."

"I don't want to go into it right now, Maggie," he whispered coldly. "I have too much on my mind, damn it."

He reached for his trousers, but the young woman snatched them out of his grip and backed away with them, clutching them behind her back. "You're bullshitting me, Dash," she said coldly. "I want an answer, right now."

The young man was grim as he approached his wife. "Give me my pants, Maggie," he said, his voice full of icy warning. "I mean it, give them to me, now."

The young woman, her heart aching with confusion and lack of understanding as to why her husband ignored her advances, laughed bitterly. "Not until you tell me what's the matter," she said defiantly. "I want to know why you're so turned off to me these days!"

Dashiell Talbot lurched forward, grabbing for the trousers as he hissed at her. "Give them to me, God damn it, before I get mad," he snarled. His fingers merely grabbed the belt buckle and he pulled as she twisted away.

She giggled as the belt slithered loose from the loops of the trousers and dangled to the floor in his hand. "I'm a lot quicker than you are, darling," she whispered in a lush, sensual voice. "You're just going to have to make me happy, unless you want to attend the party in your underwear!"

Dashiell Talbot glared at his wife coldly. His eyes roamed up and down the length of her smooth, lithe frame, feasting on the pink firmness of her nipples trembling against the alabaster background of her luscious breasts. He saw the glistening dampness between her sleek, tapered thighs and the pain struck him once more in his groin.

He flexed his fingers against the belt buckle he held in his hand and lifted it up to the level of his waist. He shook it at her warningly. "I mean it, Maggie," he hissed softly. "Give me those pants or else!"

She laughed once more, the rich sweetness of her chuckle ringing in his ears as she spoke. "Are you threatening me, darling?" she giggled. "I don't believe you would dare do it, I truly don't!"

She spun on her heel and gazed at him, impishly, over one smooth, attractive shoulder. "I love you, my darling, but I'm not afraid of you," she told him, without any meanness in her voice. "You aren't capable of hurting me!"

Savagely, his arm shot back and then forward, cracking the thick, wide surface of his belt against her buttocks. The pain stung deep into the soft, spongy half moons and the force of the blow propelled her forward a few steps.

She gasped in pain, her eyes opening wide as he cocked his arm to hit her again. "Dash… Dash, darling, are you crazy?" she moaned, rubbing her bottom hesitantly with her hand. "That hurt, damn it!"

She screamed as she saw him lashing out with the belt once more, this time crashing the blow hard against her naked shoulders. Once more the pain tore into her flesh, this time hurting twice as badly.

"I'm going to teach you to mock me, damn it," Dashiell Talbot snarled. He advanced on the trembling young woman then, cracking the belt hard against her buttocks once more. "I'm going to show you who's boss around here!"

She had never seen him this wild before. His eyes were blazing with a fury she did not recognize, and his voice was thick and tight, twisted beyond anything she had ever heard from him.

He cracked the belt down hard against her shoulders for a second time, and the force of the blow made her crash against the dresser, screaming in pain. She put up her hand to stop him, but the belt lashed into the base of her spine, this time.

"Ohh, God, stop it, Dash, it hurts," she sobbed, quivering as he lashed at her ripe, trembling buttocks once more. "Jesus, Dash, that's enough, please, that's enough, now, darling!"

He grabbed her by the hair, then and threw her savagely to the floor. She could see his prick bulging against his shorts, making the white of the material undulate as it throbbed behind them.

"You little self-centered bitch," he snarled cruelly. "I'm going to teach you a lesson! I'm going to punish you for defying me, now, damn you!"

Once more he struck her on the shoulders and the pain seared her flesh as if it were the sting of a thousand tiny darts being driven into her. She screamed again and shuddered, twisting helplessly against his hand holding her long, thick hair between his fingers.

"Okay, ohh, Jesus, all right, Dash," she moaned, tossing his trousers at his feet. "You win, darling, really, you win!"

The young man ignored the wadded garment beside his naked foot and laughed cruelly as he twisted his wife's hair in his hand. "No, bitch, you've taunted me too much," he growled at her. "It's time I taught you who your master is, slut!"

He cracked the belt against her bottom once more and she writhed in pain, her poor, defenseless ass quaking with the burning hurt of the blow. She sobbed as he smacked her hard on the back with the belt once again, making her lurch forward under the impact of the blow.

"Don't… don't please, Dash," she moaned, gasping as the pain tore through her even worse than before. "Ohh, God, it hurts, Dash, it hurts too much!"

Dashiell Talbot laughed cruelly then his eyes wide with excitement. Savagely he twisted his wife's head around once more, forcing her to gaze up into his cold, blue eyes, alive with a grinning passion.

"That's right, bitch, it hurts," he cackled, lashing her hard on the shoulders for another time. "It's going to hurt a lot more, before I'm through punishing you!"

Maggie could not believe that her husband was doing this to her. Even as he cracked the belt into her back once more, driving the cruel, thick leather hard against her naked, defenseless flesh, a part of her did not want to believe he was beating her.

Even more so, she could not accept the fact that he seemed to be enjoying it. He laughed as he struck her bottom once more, cackling almost insanely as he brought the tip of the belt down in a ripping slash at the precious, quivering moons.

"Tell me what to do, will you," he snarled viciously, whirling the belt around his head and bringing it down hard against her shoulders. "I tell you what to do!"

He let go of her hair and the young woman tumbled forward onto her face, groaning and gasping as another blow struck. She sobbed with the brutal pain she received and squirmed helplessly on the rug.

"Crawl, you scum, crawl," he hissed at her coldly. "I want to see you crawl across the room to that bed, pig!"

Savagely he lashed into her flesh with the belt now. Each blow stung her to the point of agony, and she desperately made her way on her hands and knees toward the bed on the far side of the room.

Each time he landed a blow, her scream of pain was mingled with the harsh, breathless gasp of his effort He was breathing laboriously, now, his manly chest rising and falling rapidly as he struck the blows.

Maggie wailed in pain as she felt the cruel, thick leather of the belt caressing her tender bottom, and she could feel, already, the welts rising up on her flesh, as her husband methodically beat her, now.

Slowly she made her way across the floor. The belt rose and fell over her husband's head, each vicious stroke more painful than the last. The ugly welts and red lines were dotting her creamy flesh now, marking her unmarred skin in a cruel and horrible manner. He chuckled almost insanely, now, bringing the weapon down on her even harder, as if the visible evidence of his beating made his violent frenzy grow stronger.

His attack grew in intensity, until the young woman could barely move on the carpet. Her whole body felt burned with the effects of the beating, tingling painfully from the memory of the lashing tool.

She sobbed as she, reached the bed, the blows coming quicker, now, forcing her to curl up in a tight ball as he rained them down upon her. She screamed and twisted on the floor, gasping as he struck at her buttocks and thighs with a fierce anger.

"Ohh, God, God, please, please, don't hurt me anymore, Dash," she moaned, twisting wildly as he cracked the belt against her shoulders once more. "Please, darling, whatever you want, just no more, I beg you!"

Dashiell Talbot watched his wife squirming on the floor and his cock pounded behind his shorts. The hot, bubbling passion was stirring in his loins, and the come that filled his ball bag was raging in the tight, hairy sack, now.

"You have a lot to learn, Maggie," he growled at her fiercely. "A lot to learn about this family! We don't like haughty bitches, understand?"

He cracked the belt against her spine, once again and she screamed as she lurched forward onto her face, now. "Yes, Jesus, God, yes, I understand," she sobbed wildly. "Only stop it, Dash, please, please, stop it!"

The young man struck her half a dozen more times, then dropped the belt to his side, gasping for breath, grinning at her viciously. He drove his foot into the softness of her belly and she choked as the wind escaped her lungs.

"Okay, baby, you've been punished enough, I guess," he chuckled cruelly. "Now I guess I ought to reward you, for being such an obedient bitch!"

He reached down once again, grabbing hold of her hair and pulling her, rudely, to a sitting position. "You've had a taste of the discipline you can expect around here," he told her. "Now you can have a taste of the pleasure you can get if you are a good and obedient little slave!"

The words were shocking and horrifying to her, but she did not dare argue with him at this point. She nodded her head, wildly. "Yes, yes, all right, Dash," she groaned, quivering at his feet. "Anything that you say, my darling!"

He laughed in satisfaction and pulled her to a kneeling position in front of him. "You wanted me, didn't you, Maggie?" he hissed, coldly.

She gazed at the hard, thick lump in the front of his shorts and nodded. "Yes, yes, darling, I did," she groaned softly.'

He nodded grimly. "Well, you can have me then, bitch," he snarled. "You can suck me off, if you want me that badly!"

Maggie moaned. She and Dash had often done oral sex together in the past, but never had he commanded her to service him, without giving her the same pleasure in return. He was using her as if she were a common whore, or better yet, a slave, she realized. She sobbed as he tagged hard on her hair, yanking her head back, savagely.

"You said you wanted it, bitch, well take it," he snarled coldly. "Go on, take my prick, you worthless scum and do what you were meant to do!"

Trembling, now, Maggie reached up with both hands and parted the slit in the front of his under shorts. She saw the thick, red head of his cock poking between the folds of the garment and she pulled it out from the confinement of his shorts with the tips of her thumb and forefinger.

Dashiell Talbot groaned as he felt his wife drawing his manhood from his shorts. The

mere touch of her soft, delicate fingers at his flesh sent waves of delicious pleasure rippling through him, and he shuddered with passion as she wrapped her hand around his expanding tool.

"That's it, bitch, get it good and hard," he growled, his own voice horrible and savage to his ears. Memories came flooding back into his mind, things he had seen and done, and the sickness of his past began to overwhelm him, even as the lust and rage he felt raged uncontrollably inside of him, now.

"Work on it, work on it, scum," he snarled at the helpless young woman. "I want to come, come in your mouth, bitch!"

Sobbing, she kneaded and caressed the thick, growing shaft she held in her hand. She squeezed the rod in her tiny fists, and traced a path back and forth along the length of it, with the tips of her other hand's fingers.

Often in the past, she would thrill to the fierce, powerful sensation of his manhood throbbing in her hand. She loved to feel the hot, surging blood tearing through the shaft, making it swell up to almost twice its normal width. She felt a great delight and satisfaction that it was she that could do this to him. But now, she felt no such pleasure or satisfaction.

She moved her lovely, slender digits up and down along the pounding tool, pinching and tugging on his flesh in a familiar fashion. He moaned and shuddered under her caress, feeling the boiling come churning in his balls, wildly, now.

"Come on, come on, work on it, scum," he snarled, pulling on her hair, cruelly. "I need to mouth fuck you, bitch, mouth fuck you, good!"

"Ohh, God, Dash, don't be this way," she moaned, shuddering as a spasm of pain and despair raced through her. "Don't treat me like this, darling!"

Viciously he slapped her across the cheek, now, the blow stinging her into tears, the pain simmering in her cheek long after his hand had left her tender flesh. "Shut up and start licking, bitch," he growled. "Get your lips and tongue on my prick!"

She sobbed, bowing her head submissively, now, pressing the soft, pliant petals of her mouth to his hard, hot meat. She felt him shivering uncontrollably as she ran the tip of her precious spear over the surface of his quaking helmet.

She could smell the manly odor rising from his loins, and it tingled in her nostrils with a delightful scent that she could not deny. She loved how he smelled in passion, and she tried, desperately, to ignore the fact that he was forcing her to do this now.

Why did he have to be so brutal with her, she wondered, as she rode her lovely, stabbing tongue along the length of his prong. Why did he have to beat her and force her to do this?

She nibbled frantically at his cock, now, taking swift, tiny bites of his hot, moist prong as she neared the root of his quaking weapon. Dashiell Talbot moaned thickly, bucking in spasms of delight, as his wife licked and lathered the base of his shaft, hungrily, then.

His balls were pounding feverishly, now and he moaned wildly, pushing her head tightly against his groin. "My balls, you bitch, get to my balls," he moaned. "Come on, come on, suck my balls, now!"

She felt the thick, hot tightness of his sack pounding against her lips and she opened her mouth, then, to accept the taut container inside. Her husband groaned as he felt his wife's lips locking around his flesh, her teeth digging into the meat of his bag as she began to suck on his trapped stones.

She flicked her tongue at his imprisoned balls, now, rolling them back and forth in her mouth, wildly, lashing at the pounding nuts with increasing passion. She tossed the aching balls back and forth against her moist, warm cheeks, and sucked hungrily on them as he rocked her head from left to right between his hands.

"Yeah, baby, yeah, bitch, that's it," he groaned thickly. "Suck good, bitch, suck my balls real good!"

Sobbing, she blew warm currents of air across his flesh and made soft, quiet sounds in her throat. The vibrations they made sent trembling waves of pleasure racing through Dashiell's loins and his legs felt weak with the surging desire pumping through his loins, now.

He rocked back and forth on his heels, moaning as his wife's head moved back and forth against his balls. The throbbing wanting was raging in his flesh now, and come seemed to boil furiously in his tight, aching bag.

Her hand continued to knead and caress his cock while, she sucked on his balls. He felt her fingers, slender and exquisite in texture, racing up and down along his tool, digging the sculptured nails into his flesh as they traveled across his aching manhood. He jerked spasmodically again and again, his prick pounding so badly that it hurt, now.

"Ohh, Jesus, yes, that's it," he groaned, puffing on her hair, anxiously now. "Come on, the prick, get to the prick, damn it!"

Maggie was so intent on pleasing him, both out of fear for his shocking violence and a rich desire borne out of love for him, that she barely understood what he was saying to her, then.

She felt him pulling on her hair, wildly and she gasped as he yanked her head from his balls, pulling her mouth up to the hard, quaking weapon she was holding in her hand. The huge, hot prick crashed against her cheek and she shuddered with the fiery heat she felt burning in the pounding shaft.

"Come on, bitch, suck me now," he, moaned, thrusting his cock against her lips, now. "I need it, baby, need it, now!"

"Yes, ohh, yes, I want to," she sobbed, her mouth opening eagerly to accept the hard, probing shaft. "Ummm, let me suck you, darling, let me suck you hard!"

She relaxed her throat muscles willingly, now, allowing his hard, throbbing weapon to slither effortlessly into her throat. She gagged once and then settled down, feeling the awesome thrill of his prick burying itself in the depths of her warm, most tunnel. Her silken inner walls locked hard around the buried prong, and her lips fastened against the root of his shaft, greedily.

"Ahh, yeah, suck me good, Maggie, make me come," Dashiell Talbot moaned, his voice tortured with lust and despair at what he was doing to his wife. "I've got to come in your mouth, baby, come in your mouth, hard!"

Eagerly, now, the young woman began to ride his shaft in and out of the moist, velvet passage of her throat. She flexed her throat muscles against the plunging shaft, sucking as hard as she could at the same time.

Her husband trembled on his heels, shuddering and moaning as his prick raced back and forth along its chosen path. He felt his wife bearing down on his rod, lathering it with her tongue, and the waves of uncontrollable desire swept through his loins with more power and force than he could have imagined.

It felt as if his whole body was centered in his loins now, as if his flesh had compressed into the tight, hot and burning area that was his balls and cock. Maggie bobbed her head back and forth in a frenzy, now, sucking and licking his plunging tool with savage and hungry passion.

Dashiell groaned as the bubbling, come churned more violently in his bag and the aching need of release surged in the pit of his balls. He thrust forward savagely, burying his prick to the hilt in her mouth once more. "Jesus, that's good, bitch," he moaned thickly, his voice as taut as a drawn bow. "God, I'm going to come, going to come in your mouth so fucking good!"

Maggie moved her lovely lips and perfect teeth back and forth along the prick wildly, now. She could feel it swelling powerfully in her mouth, growing bigger and bigger with every stroke she took. She knew that he would be climaxing at almost any moment and she bore down, on the rod now, eager to taste the fluid of his passion on her tongue as soon as possible.

Suddenly her husband groaned loudly and thrust against her lips, in a shuddering, uncontrollable spasm of relief. He gasped and sobbed, the hot, steaming come spurting from his weapon and filling his wife's mouth to overflowing.

Maggie gulped and swallowed frantically, tasting the, oily bitterness of her husband's seed on her tongue. She felt the hot, smooth spear pumping the fluid into her mouth, and she drank hungrily from the bursting prong as he emptied his loins in her willing throat.

He groaned thickly, as the frantic spasms began to subside in his groin. The last of his aching tremors tore through him, then and he pushed her away, brutally, with a savage mixture of disgust and loathing.

He turned from the young woman who had slipped to the floor, and was now crying softly, and headed for the bathroom once more. He tried to appear angry and uncaring, for deep in Dashiell Talbot's heart was a fierce and agonized despair.

He had come back, all right, come back to a house filled with memory and pain, back to a place of savage violence and lust. Try as he might, he knew he could not escape his destiny here, the forces were too strong, and already he had given into them.

Maggie watched him walk away, the taste of him still on her tongue, the pain of his blows tingling in her sore, battered flesh. She watched him slam the door behind him and she gasped in painful shock and confusion.

What had happened to him, she wondered fearfully. What had come over him? Never had he treated her in such a brutal and savage fashion. She lay on the floor, almost unable to move, realizing, now, that there was more, much more she would have to combat in this house. Dashiell was haunted by the past, and the past was alive now. She would have to overcome it.

She pulled herself up to the bed, trembling with the lingering, constant pain in her body. She gazed at the door, terror racing through her, wondering if she had the power and will to save them both.