"Her lover son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vickers Robert)

CHAPTER NINE

Willie was really getting into this tit-fucking. He enjoyed the feel of the doughy blobs of Joleen's boobs sailing along his cock. He felt his dick stiffen with increasing desire and knew that his orgasm wasn't far off.

The man increased the tempo and pressed brutally hard on Joleen's tits. As he rammed into her and his balls smashed hard against the ivory slopes of her tits, Willie's cock exploded. He blasted shot after gooey shot of jism all over her face.

Willie released the hold on Joleen's tits and leaned back. A thin trickle of his cum dripped onto Joleen's stomach. Willie took his cock in hand and dragged his rigid rod back and forth until the last gobs of jism were wiped from his prick.

He looked at Joleen in satisfaction. She was avidly licking the cum off her face. One glob stuck above her eyebrow. That one was impossible to reach with her tongue.

As she reached up to snare the stray blob with a finger, a voice boomed, "Goddamn! What the fuckin' hell's going on here?"

Joleen cast a frightened look to the doorway. Standing there, suitcase in hand, was Harold.

Her husband had come home three days early.

"Of all the Goddamn things I've ever seen! I come home early to be with my wife and find her with some Goddamn man squatting on her belly and fucking her!"

Willie didn't seem to be overly upset. He calmly slipped off of Joleen and said, his voice controlled and even, "I guess you're Joleen's husband. I wondered what a grade-A prick would look like. Seeing you, I know everything Joleen's said is the gospel truth."

Harold dropped his suitcase and took a swing at Willie.

The naked man danced back, and the blow missed him by scant inches. He taunted Harold, "Come off it, man! You're not going to do anything just because your wife and I've been having a little fun. Don't get yourself hurt, man. You could get a hernia straining like that!"

Harold stepped back, and Joleen could see him working himself into a rage. He'd been in the Air Force and knew all sorts of unarmed combat.

Joleen cried out to Willie, "Better get out of here! He knows judo and all kinds of stuff like that!"

Willie laughed harshly. "Aw, man, you can do better. But this might be the only exercise you get. You certainly don't strain yourself in bed fucking. Unless it's with those sexy little stewardesses, eh?"

Harold launched a straight punch at Willie's neck. The man moved and seemed to pat Harold's clenched fist. The blow missed its target by a considerable distance. Willie slapped Harold. Not hard, but enough to show that he could do anything he wanted to the man.

Harold didn't take the hint. He launched a kick at Willie's stomach. Willie casually grabbed the foot and twisted. Harold sailed through the air and landed in a pile against the wall.

As he was standing up, Willie kicked out. The ball of his foot connected with Harold's stomach. A dull whoosh signaled the air gushing out of the man's lungs. As Harold doubled up, Willie brought his knee up into Harold's face.

There was a dull crunch as cartilage broke. Harold collapsed to the floor with a broken and bleeding nose.

"Man, I told you not to hassle me. That hand-to-hand combat jazz just doesn't make it, you know? Try living out on the street, and you'll learn to fight for keeps." Willie's voice was harsh and biting. It told the beaten man that if he tried anything further, one of them would never get up again.

And Willie had just shown how inept Harold was at fighting.

Harold pulled himself erect, holding his bleeding nose. "Okay, okay." He stumbled to the dresser for support.

Joleen cried out, "A gun! Willie! There's a gun in the drawer!"

It was too late. Harold had opened the top drawer and yanked out a.38 snub-nosed revolver. He had it pointed at Willie. And instantly saw that Willie had a 9mm Browning automatic cocked and aimed at him.

"Don't try it, Harold. I know I'm a damn sight better shot than you are. And I've got fourteen tries to pump your miserable body full of holes. That popgun of yours doesn't even scare me."

Joleen felt like laughing. The scene before her was funny in spite of being so deadly grim. Harlold had his bloody nose and a toy of a gun aimed at Willie. Willie was still naked but had the businesslike automatic aimed at Harold.

They held the pose for a moment, then Harold snarled, "Get the hell out of here, you filthy…"

Willie snapped, "Watch your tongue! I'm leaving."

He gathered his pants and shirt, slipping into his shoes as he picked the other things up. All the time, his gun never wavered from its target on Harold's chest.

Willie backed out of the room and called, "I'll see you later, doll!"

With that, he vanished down the hallway. The sound of the front door slamming punctuated his departure.

Harold turned angrily to Joleen. "Who the fucking hell was that scum? And what were you doing with him?"

Joleen settled back on the bed. "Put that gun away, Harold. It doesn't scare me any more than it did Willie." She was really frightened of the man waving the gun around since she knew he was a lousy shot and very mad. He might just pull the trigger and never know it until it was too late.

Harold tossed the gun aside.

"Thanks. I guess it's pretty obvious what we were doing. How was your trip?"

Harold's face turned an ugly red with anger. He reached out and backhanded Joleen across the face. A red handprint was left on her cheek.

"Goddamn slut! 'How was my trip?' you say. Just like that. Just like you hadn't been cheating on me!"

Joleen held her cheek. She'd never seen Harold this mad and didn't know what he would do or what he was capable of doing. She decided she had better try to calm him down, or he might do something she wouldn't like at all.

"Ah, look, Harold. You're gone so long. Look at it from my point of…"

Harold smashed his hand into her face again. This time he didn't bother to do it flat-handed. He punched her with his fist.

"Whore! Bitch! Scumbag! You're such a slut you sicken me!"

He began to slap her repeatedly. Joleen fell back on the bed and tried to protect herself as best she could. In a few minutes, the rain of blows stopped. Joleen remained curled up on the bed, shaking and sobbing. Tears ran down her face and dampened the bedspread.

How could life be so cruel to her? Why did Harold have to come back from his Goddamn trip three days early?

She thought the man had left her alone. Joleen couldn't have been more wrong.

Harold had gone into the bathroom to stop the flow of blood from his broken nose. He came back into the bedroom with his nose plugged with cotton and a strip of adhesive tape over the bridge.

He silently went to the closet and took out a handful of his neckties. Still without speaking, he went to where Joleen lay cowering on the bed. A mighty slap on the side of her head made her gasp and reach out to stop a second blow.

Harold tapped her hand and quickly looped the tie around her wrist. He knotted the silk and yanked hard on it. When Joleen's arm straightened, Harold fastened the tie to the head of the bed, using a knot that couldn't easily be undone.

"Wh-what are you doing, Harold?"

"Shut up, you disgusting pig! You make me sick!"

Harold slapped her again. When Joleen touched the bruised cheek, Harold took her slender wrist and rapidly tied another of his neckties around it.

He dragged her out so that he could fasten the tie to the other side of the headboard. Joleen tried to kick him. This only played into his hands.

He grabbed one flailing foot and soon had it fastened securely at one end of the bed. It was child's play to capture the other foot and tie it the same way.

Joleen was fled spreadeagle to the bed. Naked and exposed, her face bruised and one eye beginning to blacken from where her husband had punched her, she was a sorry sight.

Harold looked at her without the slightest trace of pity in his harsh black eyes.

"Why are you d-doing this t-to me? Why?" Joleen pleaded, knowing her words were falling on deaf ears.

Harold sneered but didn't answer. He removed the broad leather belt from his waist and doubled the strap. He slapped it against his palm serveral times to test the feel of its impact.

When Joleen saw what Harold intended to do to her, she began to scream as loudly as she could.

As quick as a flash, Harold was next to her, stuffing his handkerchief into his wife's mouth. He took another of his neckties and fastened the silk band around Joleen's head to keep the gag in place.

"Now, slut. Scream all you want. And I hope you choke to death after what you've done to me!"

Harold raised his arm, and the broad belt slapped across Joleen's tensed stomach with a dull whack!

She groaned, but the gag prevented the slightest sound from escaping her lips. Harold began to beat her. Methodically and thoroughly, he continued to swing the belt and land it on her body. She was soon covered with a checkerboard of red welts from the belt.

"How's it feel to suffer, bitch? This is nothing compared to what you've made me feel!"

Harold went to a wooden chair and picked it up. He raised it over his head and, for a horrifying second, Joleen thought he meant to smash it into her. Instead, he broke the chair against the dresser. He picked up two of the broken rungs from the legs and brought them over to the bed and the bound woman.

Harold coldly informed the bound Joleen, "I don't think I got those bindings tight enough. You don't look like you are enjoying them at all!" Harold took one of the pieces of wood and slowly looped one of the ties binding Joleen's legs around the rung. He began to spin the wood and tighten the bond. He repeated the action on the tie on Joleen's other ankle.

Harold pulled so tight that his wife's joints began to pop and crack. She silently screamed her agony into the gag in her mouth. It was like being drawn and quartered.

Seeing her ass lift off the bed and hang suspended in the air due to the incredible tension of his crude torture rack, Harold declared, "Now I can really begin to punish you!"

He brought the belt down again and again on her white body. The once flawless expanse of her skin now was criss-crossed with ugly red welts and the beginnings of blood blisters. Once, Joleen passed out from the pain. A pitcher of icy water revived her to more pain. When her husband began beating her cunt with the broad black leather belt, Joleen thought she was going to die.

Harold stopped to rest. He looked at the battered body of his wife stretched out over the bed. He said, his voice coming in harsh, panting tones, "I never thought you'd do a thing like this to me. I've given you everything. And how do you repay me? You find some hood and let him fuck you. You probably begged him to fuck you! You're nothing but a Goddamn whore!"

Joleen thought that Harold didn't know the half of the situation. Yes, she'd begged Willie for his cock. Yes, she'd begged him to fuck her. She'd done everything to seduce the man. And why the hell not? Harold was never around. And she was seeing a new side of her husband that hadn't been revealed to her before.

Joleen hoped that Harold Jensen would burn in hell for what he was doing to her!

"Your slimy hole probably drew him like garbage does flies. Here's something for your filthy cunt!"

Harold rammed a leg from the chair into Joleen's snatch. Drawn and stretched as she was on the bed, her cunt was tightly compressed. The pain of the varnished wood along her unlubricated cunt made her pass out again.

When she regained consciousness, Harold was beating her with the belt with renewed urgency. There wasn't a single square inch of her body that wasn't marked. When he brought the belt down across her tits, she tried to scream. When she saw that her muffled moans were only egging him on, she vowed to remain as silent as she could possibly be.

The pain was excruciating in her shoulders and hips from where he had tightened the ties binding her. She silently wished for one of them to break, but the material was too tough. Joleen would have to endure the torture awhile longer.

She'd try to take whatever he did to her in complete silence.

Harold soon changed when he saw the more placid attitude his wife was trying to maintain. He became furious. He brutally twisted the chair leg he had crammed up her cunt. Joleen bit down on the handkerchief in her mouth. She almost choked but did not utter a single sound.

Harold's wrath grew. "I'm going to show you what it's like to have a real man fuck you! I'm going to fuck you until you'll wish you could beg me to stop! But I won't! I'll keep fucking your foul, stinking cunt until I feel like stopping!"

He stripped off his bloodied shirt and tossed it aside. His trousers followed. Joleen saw that her husband had a hard-on. She didn't have to be a mind reader to guess that his cock had been stiff since the start of this painful episode with her. He apparently got off in a big way on sadism.

If Joleen could have had any wish in the world, she'd have wished for that big gun of Willie's. He had said it held fourteen shots. She would have enjoyed putting each and every round into Harold's bloated belly. She would have laughed as he quivered and kicked out his death agonies.

It would have been fitting punishment for what he was doing to her.

But she knew that she wouldn't get the chance and resigned herself to her fate. Harold stood over her on the bed. His prick danced in front of his body. He held it like a knife as he dropped to his knees and savagely gabbed at her cunt.

"This is what you wanted from him, isn't it?"

Harold squeezed down powerfully on Joleen's snatch to indicate what he meant, as if she didn't already know. She tried to keep from gasping, but she failed. He had her by the most sensitive part of her body. And the bastard knew it!

"I've decided to let you enjoy this for a while." Harold bent forward and guided his cock into Joleen's cunt. With a mighty surge of his hips, Harold rocketed forward.

His cock zinged up the woman's ungreased cunt. She felt as if he were tearing her apart as her inner tissues tried to stop the huge invader. Harold laughed cruelly, then began to really fuck her dry cunt. Each time he thrust into her it was excruciatingly painful for Joleen.

In spite of herself, Joleen felt her cunt begin to flow. The cunt juices soon gushed out to protect her. In some way she didn't even begin to understand, she wanted Harold to fuck her. But not like this. She didn't want to betray her need for cock in such an obvious and blatant way.

And yet she did. Harold noticed her flowing cunt instantly.

"Damn! You are one hell of a slut!"

He began to fuck her with wild abandon. His prick seared along her cunt and made her writhe with the sensations battering at her mind. Her entire body was a giant raw nerve end, and now Harold was starting to really fuck her. Joleen thought she would lose her mind from the intense pain – and pleasure – that seeped through her body.

She tried to forget all the pain from the welts on her body. Joleen's universe was filled with a red haze of agony, but there was a way she could get even with Harold.

If she enjoyed the punishment he was inflicting on her body, enjoy the living hell out of it, he might stop. It was apparent his goal was to hurt her. He wanted to humiliate her in the worst way possible. Robbed of that pleasure, he'd quit.

Joleen continued to moan. But she concentrated on the pleasure of Harold's puny cock inside her cunt. Her pussy was now well oiled in self-defense against his inconsiderate fucking. The woman tried to imagine it was Willie fucking her; that Harold didn't even exist in her world of pleasure.

Harold mumbled, "You're a real pig!"

He continued to fuck her cunt with slow, deliberate strokes, hoping to intensify the pain in her body. Harold thought that anyone so mistreated wduld have to hurt if they were beaten, had a chair leg shoved up their cunt, and were then fucked.

Joleen's determination prevented him from realizing his goal. He felt his cock begin to burn. His balls slapped mercilessly into her ass with every stroke. He felt the internal pressure building in his body. And Joleen only moaned in contentment.

Furious, Harold pistoned in and out of the woman's cunt with violent force. He fucked her with all the pent-up emotion he felt. She had cheated on him. He wanted to discipline her. He rammed his prick into her cunt as hard and deep as he could.

Still, his wife seemed to enjoy it. Her hips began to wiggle a bit; she seemed to be asking for more.

Harold was not able to hold back his jism any longer. He blasted his spunk with mindless fury into her tortured cunt. Joleen didn't feel anything but the throb of Harold's cock jerking and spurting off inside her. She knew, however, that he had blown his wad a lot sooner than he had intended. Joleen could tell by the crazed look in her husband's eyes that he had intended for this to go on for a long, long time. He wanted to make her suffer, and she refused.

Joleen refused to let Harold reach her. She built a mental wall around herself to shut out the pain. Humiliation meant nothing to her now. She was not going to let him degrade her further.

Harold snarled, "You liked that! You like being fucked and beaten! You dirty animal!"

Harold stood on the bed, his feet braced between Joleen's widespread legs. From his superior height, he looked down at his wife in contempt. She was as bound and helpless as she could have ever been. Joleen saw the white cum oozing off Harold's cock and dripping onto the bed.

If she had been able, she would have laughed at him. He was a ridiculous and pitiful sight.

Harold Jensen seemed to sense the amusement from the gleam in her eyes. He knew how she had thwarted his plans for revenge on her body. With obvious malice, Harold took his cock in hand and coldly told her, "You're subhuman. You're the lowest scumbag that ever existed. You're not fit for anything. You're not even fit for me to piss on!"

Joleen's eyes widened in horror. She saw the hole at the end of Harold's cock expand.

The woman screwed her eyes shut and tried to avoid the hot stream of piss that splashed and splattered on her face. The smelly piss warmly trickled down her face, over her lips, even spurted up her nose.

Joleen snorted and cleared the horrible liquid from her nostrils. But the stench remained. She tried to shake her head and get some of the piss off. She could tell it wouldn't work that easily. In a few seconds, her hair was drenched.

Harold laughed harshly.

"Is that more to your liking, bitch?"

She peered out from under one eyelid and saw Harold pull out a pocket knife from his trouser pocket. The puny penknife looked as big as a machete to her. He opened it and advanced on her. She watched the gleam of the silver blade with complete fascination. It seemed to hypnotize her. As badly as she wanted to look away, to cower from that wicked knife, she couldn't.

He stood over her and shoved the thin blade up inside one nostril. He wiggled it around a few times, enjoying the look of tenor on her face. The amusement in her eyes had changed to stark honor. Even through the gag, she managed to mutter, "NO!"

"So! The whore doesn't like the pretty knife."

With a motion too fast for her to see, Harold slipped the knife away from her nose and slashed the silk tie binding her left wrist.

"Slut!" was all he said. He dressed and left without another word to his bound and gagged wife.

Joleen managed to loosen her other bonds and was soon free. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, trembling and sick in reaction to what had happened to her. Finally, the stench of the piss was too great for Joleen to endure any longer. She rushed to the bathroom and heaved her guts out.

The first spell of vomiting past, the pain from her body began to take its toll. She vomited again, this time with the dry heaves.

The woman was drained physically and mentally after puking out her guts. Like some zombie, she turned on the water in the shower and slipped into the tub. The jet of hot water hurt as it washed over her body. But she didn't care. The pain wasn't any worse than the beatings Harold had given her.

When the piss was washed from her hair and her body had become one giant, dull ache, an intense hatred flowed into her mind. She wanted to get rid of Harold for what he had gone. She would do anything to get even.

Joleen didn't know how or when. She just knew that she would get even with that bastard.

Harold Jensen had created a monster.