"Stepdaughter in bondage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Ron)

CHAPTER THREE

He got out of his shorts, leaving his body entirely naked. I guess if the circumstances had been a lot different I might have enjoyed the sight of him, all tare and hard-muscled. But it wasn't that kind of night. I mean, this afternoon my mother had died, and it wasn't quite twelve o'clock midnight and her husband had me tied to my bed, helpless, nothing but a toy to work out his warped passions on. I struggled against the rubber cord binding my wrists, struggled till it hurt, and my tied-up leg moved fitfully, impotently. The panties in my mouth tasted funny – of talcum and sweat and strange girl-like things I could only identify in a very general way. I coughed and tried to spit them out but that was a useless gesture too.

Tony sat down on the edge of the bed, one of his hands sliding down over my tits where they thrust out of my torn nightie. And if I was impotent, he damned sure wasn't. His stiff cock thrust up like a dagger, a long thick dagger whose hilt was bidden by a swirl of tight curling black hairs. The knob of his cock looked bigger than before, and the color had deepened to a livid, bruised kind of purple. Moisture was leaking from him, coating his cockhead with a filmy sheen, and I wanted to swallow the huge lump of fear in my throat but I couldn't, for I'd have strangled on the panties Tony had crammed into my mouth. There would be no screams to disturb the night's peace in our quiet neighborhood. I wondered how many other times the bastard had set about raping a woman. He seemed to have the whole routine down pat.

Go limp! I told myself. Lie here like a Goddamned piece of cloth. He can stick that big dick into me, and he can make me cry, but I'm gonna be a dishrag underneath him. If he's looking for a good hot fuck, he'd better look to his own fist, because it's gonna seem mighty attractive after a few minutes on top of me. Clamping my teeth down on the panties in my mouth, I willed my body to relax. Totally. I would not move. I would not whimper. I'd play dead.

"I'm sorry it has to be this way, Becky," he said, leering, and I knew he wasn't sorry at all. He seemed to get a thrill out of seeing me all tied and gagged and helpless, out of feeling my tits when I couldn't make him stop. His fingers slid again and again over my fear-hardened nipples. He pinched them, pulled them, teased them like a farmer looking for a full milk bucket on a cold frosty morning. I tried not to react, but I couldn't be entirely true to myself. The more he pulled and tweaked, the more my belly jerked, the more my boobs jiggled in his hands. And that only made him squeeze me and pinch me the harder.

Tony had ripped the gown open, ruined it completely, but I still had on the panties. He seemed to take note of that interesting fact, and his hands slid reluctantly downward from my tits, onto the lacy elastic waistband of the pants. He slipped his thumbs inside, fixed his eyes on mine in such a determined stare that I had to lower my eyelids in a puny self-defense. Just as I did, he began to pull on my panties. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see his face the first time he got a clear peek at my cunt.

"Goddamn these things," he said, fumbling with the panties. He had big hands and suddenly, he was ripping the pants just as he'd ripped the nightgown, splitting them in half with a long, agonizing rrnnppp sound. I went scarlet. I could feel the tingles of the deep blush that spread across my face, because I knew he was looking at me, down there, at the small dark patch of hair, shaped like a neat little V, flossing my crotch. Only two other males had ever seen that part of me, and I wasn't sure if one of them counted, because the time Bucky and I did it, the lights were all off and neither of us could see much of anything.

Well, right now the overhead light was blazing down on me and I knew Tony was getting an eyeful. A big eyeful. I heard my stepfather make little licking sounds, and then his fingers crept into my bush.

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNN!" I groaned, lifting up from the bed I was tied onto. He had his fingers in my pubic hair, pulling, twisting, as if he meant to rip it off my mons in one big jerk. I couldn't lie still for something like that, could I? No matter how limp I'd resolved to be.

And as suddenly as he had begun to abuse me, his hand grew softer, gentle, almost. He had both hands on me by then, his thumbs resting on the inner curves of my thighs, eight fingers planted amid my curly black hairs. They stroked me caressingly, rubbing till I was warm. I couldn't fight the warm feeling that spread across my groin. It was coming from somewhere deep inside me, somewhere I couldn't reach with my mind, somewhere I couldn't control.

His fingers pushed up the rather puffy lips of my slit, squeezed them together. I could feel a moisture building within the tight little cleft, and it was something else I could not stop. Puffing, humming, whistling occasionally, but not saying an audible word, Tony rubbed me till my cunt was squishy-wet, and then he spread me. I remember thinking at the time that it was much gentler, that spreading, than it had been when Bucky's or Norman's cocks went into me those other nights. There was a tightness in my chest, somewhere behind my throbbing tits, and it stuck in place there. I couldn't have swallowed it down or coughed it up, not even if those panties hadn't been gagging my mouth so effectively.

He pulled a little harder, and my pussy winked open. I knew what he was seeing, though my eyes were still shut tight. I'd looked at myself a few times with the aid of a small hand mirror. So I knew how my snatch looked, once the snug fuzz-covered lips were parted. It was a slick-looking deep pink, just inside the gates, and the hole and as much of the tube as I could get a look at were a deeper color, almost blood-red, very moist and slippery to look at, even more slippery to feel. I knew that from having a finger inside me on a great many occasions. And I gasped around the muffler of panties, because a finger was in me now, and it wasn't my finger because one of my hands was tied to the bedpost with an electric cord, the other bound with nylon stocking.

"Mmmmmmmpppppppppphhhhhhhh!" I gurgled and moaned, but Tony's finger pressed into me, thrusting deep, deeper, oh God! He had it all the way inside me, and it was a long enough finger. His knuckles ground against the mouth of my cunt and his fingertip wiggled around and around till my head spun just like his fingertip was spinning and I felt as if I were going to pop out. The juice was running like a river from my twat, sticky and squishy, I could hear it squishing each time his finger squiggled around. My stupid Goddamned pussy didn't have sense enough to know that it wasn't my finger playing the old favorite game inside me. It was an alien, it was somebody who had no business there.

I could sense that his face was very close to mine. I could feel his whiskey-laden breath, for one thins but even without the alcohol fumes I'd have known.

"Sweet little Becky's not a good girl," he announced in a husky whisper, his lips only inches from my nose. "Where did her cherry go? Has somebody been dipping into your well? Some of those boys from school, maybe? Do you let them fuck you and you won't let me? Is that how it is, Becky? Well, Becky, you just don't know what you've been missing. But I'll show you. I don't mind if somebody's already done the dirty work. I hate to get blood all over my cock, even if it is from a pretty little pussy like yours. Bet you haven't found any schoolboys with a prick as big as mine, have you, Becky? Hmmmmm?" He kept calling me "Becky", over and over, Goddamn him! He knew how I hated it.

Tony leaned a little closer and he started to sloppy-kiss me, all over my face. I'd been sloppy-kissed before, a couple of times, but never by anyone who was reeking with booze the way Tony was. The fumes made my head giddy and I thought my brain was growing numb. He kept his hand busy on my cunt, squeezing it, massaging it with his hard fist, making more and more juice leak out of me till I couldn't help wondering where the stuff was coming from. I was wetter than I'd ever been, outside of the bathroom, and each fresh pinch of his fist seemed to make me wetter still.

His lips moved down my face, down my neck, onto my tits. He started to suck. His teeth were sharp and gnawing and it hurt. I opened my eyes and my head started to shake from side to side, but I couldn't move enough to shake him off me. He sucked until my nipples were throbbing and there were red teethmarks in the white caps of my tits, and his hand was still between my legs, listing my pussy actively. And I kept pissing out my juice, till the entire room smelled outrageously like a wet cat. If I could smell it so strongly, so much more vivid and noticeable than Tony's whiskey breath, then he could smell it too, and he must know.

One of my legs was unbound, for all the good that did. I tried to bring it shut, to push him from my cunt. Instead, I wound up clasping him, my leg tight across his hand, increasing? Hundred fold the pressure of his fist on my cunt. I must have squeezed him that way ten or fifteen times before I realized what I was doing and flung my leg free, out of harm's reach. But even as it slinked away, across the bed, I found myself wishing I could bring it back, squeeze him just one more time. My clitoris ached and my cunt was a swamp of passion. I asked myself, What is happening? What is happening to me?

Tony's mouth was on my bellybutton while all this was going on. He got his tongue into my navel and rimmed it round and round, bringing out quivery responses I had never felt before, and I wondered where my self-resolve had gone. My body wasn't limp at all. Each time his tongue licked into me, each time his fist squeezed my pussy, I found myself bucking, lurching upward against the pressure of the bonds that held me to the bed. My ankle mid both wrists hurt like hell but it didn't seem to stop me. I just kept bucking and jolting.

The next part happened pretty fast. One moment he was sucking my bellybutton and listing my snatch, and the next moment, it seemed, he was lying on me. Not heavy, the way Norman had lain on me when we did it on the couch. He was propping himself up with one arm so that his body didn't crush down on mine, and the only place we really touched was at the bellies. I could feel his cock, hard and hot between us, and it felt gigantic. I knew he was going to fuck me with it, and I knew it was going to rip me apart when he stuffed it inside. I was too small, too tight. I started shaking my head frantically, and I made gurgly sounds as drool spilled from my mouth around the gag of stuffed-in panties. My eyeballs were swollen and bulging, ready to pop out of their sockets and I could feel sweat running across my blush-scarlet forehead, out of my hair, stinging its way into my eyes. I blinked hard, and tears welled and bubbled, rolling at last down my cheeks. Some of them got into my mouth, adding saltiness to the strange taste of my panties.

Tony was above me, dominant, powerful, possessive. He leaned to one side throwing all his weight onto one elbow, and with his other hand he reached down into the area where our bo dies touched. His groin lifted from mine and I felt his cock move downward. His hand was guiding it, and the heated knob slid through my pubic hairs.

"Feel it?" he said. "It's a privilege to be fucked by this cock, baby. I have a spare that I use on scaggy twat – like your old lady. She never got what I have ready for you, Becky honey. And she never knew the difference. I tell you, kid, once you've been bitten by this tool, you'll never be satisfied with the average rod again. And the next time I fuck you, Becky, I won't have to tie you down. If I know anything about women – and I Goddamned sure do, bet your sweet lithe ass – you'll be the one tying me down. Let me tickle you with it. Do you like that? I know it's hard for you to talk, but I don't want you screaming your guts out the first time I make you come. You'll want to scream, too, Becky baby. You'll want to howl like a coyote and tell everybody in the world what a stud you've lucked onto. I'm all yours now, little girl. Your mama's gone and you can be my woman now. Feel it? I'm oozing it down your slice. And you've got an oozy gash, too. Just like you've pissed on yourself. You didn't piss on yourself, did you? Of course you didn't, Becky. You're just hot and bothered, itching to have this cock inside you. Bet your belly's on fire, dying to have a taste of my cum, huh? Me you on fire? Does this make you hotter?"

He stoked me again, and I couldn't lie still. My body erupted into a series of twitches and convulsions beneath him and it was almost like coming. Oh, God, I thought, what is he turning me into? I feel like an animal! My mother is dead and my stepfather is raping me, and all I can think of is, God, my pussy aches and aches.

"Don't have to wait any longer, Becky." Why did he keep calling me Becky? Because he knew I couldn't stand it? Because it made me twitch and shake with anger and with something besides, something far beyond anger? I sucked in my belly and at almost the same instant Tony pressed the head of his cock against my tight slit.

I thought my eyes were going to spring out of my head. It was an incredibly big, incredibly hard cock that gouged at my pussy. I'd thought Bucky and Norman were well hung, but I didn't know what hung was. Not till Tony began to work his rod into me. He'd have made two Normans, one and a half Bucky's, for sure, and my pussylips stretched wider and wider, staining, ready to tear, as he screwed the tip of his meat into my too-small hole. I closed my eyes and still I could see only red. My body was one huge pain and, down there, at my cunt, the pain was at its most intense and concentrated.

I wanted to scream but I couldn't. And I knew what he meant. It would have sounded like feeding time at the lion cages and everyone in this end of Reckardsville would have come running to investigate the disturbance.

Tony shoved again, and this time he got somewhere. He got half his cock inside me. It was like losing my cherry, only it hurt a hell of a lot more. I gnawed like a rat at the panties crammed into my mouth and I thought I could feel them starting to slip down my throat. I'm going to strangle, I thought madly. I'm already strangling!

But it was the tightness from my twat, pushed up my body, not a constriction in my throat. It's funny how feelings can get rearranged when your brain is too busy to keep it all straight. But now – now I could tell what was happening, and I almost wished I had been strangling on the panties. It felt as if a fencepost were being fed into my twat and I couldn't tell how much of the wetness in my crotch was pussy juice and how much of it was the blood from my ruined pussy. I tried to scoot up the bed, away from Tony, but he kept pushing and pushing.

He was in me! I felt his groin slam hard against mine and my guts were being pushed out of place, they had nowhere to go but up my windpipe, thanks to the huge mass of cock buried in me, and it was really buried. I could feel his nuts shaking in the crack of my ass, hard nuts, rocking nuts, swishing from side to side, making me itch everytime, everyplace they touched me. I couldn't keep my body still. I began to writhe and twist and shake and tremble and my tits were on fire and my pussy was ablaze. In about thirty seconds my body would be one hell of a warring, raging fire and maybe it would burn Tony to a cinder, which was no less than he deserved, the son of a bitch. If it destroyed me too, well, I couldn't complain, for I was damaged goods in the worst way.

And if I thought the insertion was bad, I didn't know what bad could be until he pulled half his dick out of me and then shoved it home again. It felt as if he were fucking right to the bottom of my throat. I could swear the end of his dick was coming up, tickling the back of my tongue. I went "Gawwwwwwkkkk!" I almost swallowed those Goddamned panties in one gulp.

"Hold still, Becky," I heard Tony say, and I couldn't miss hearing the note of triumph in his voice. All his dirty dreams were coming true. "If you hold still, you can really feel it."

And with that he started to fuck me, in-out, in-out, in-out, like a machine, fucking me so hard, so fast, so masterfully I didn't have time to be anything more than a slave of his passions. My body shook and vibrated each time he plunged home, I sobbed each time he pulled out, and I gasped as best I could with each fresh stab of his fat, hard cock. Oh, God, I had never felt anything like this before hr my life, never dreamed that I could feel anything like this!

I mean, here I was, tied up like a hog for butchering, any my stepfather was fucking the living hell out of me, not half an hour after we'd left the funeral parlor and my mother's closed coffin. I was trembling like a leaf under him, my body twitching, my pussy as wet as if I'd just been for a long, long swim. I couldn't find the brain center which controlled that muscle reaction. I couldn't stop my leg from creeping slowly toward Tony's body, my heel from beginning to slide curiously up and down his straining, hard-muscled cock.

The touch of me seemed to please him. "That's right, Becky," he said. "You know who's boss in this house, don't you, little girl? And you don't even have to call me daddy. Just keep moving, the way you're doing right now. And keep your legs spread wide."

By that time my free leg was slum closely twined around his body and I was stroking the backs of his thighs and calves, bringing my foot up to nudge the cheeks of Tony's ass. It seemed to drive him deeper into me, and it hurt, but my body seemed to crave the pain, the degradation. I strained at my bonds, and I struggled to breathe around the panties he'd gagged me with, but my body was responding magically under Tony and I had no more control over myself. I had been fucked by two different boys and both times and wondered what all the excitement was about. It had been unsatisfying, fairly messy, nowhere as good as I could do myself with a carefully snaked finger.

Well, this time I knew. And as Tony kept on fucking me I found myself recalling the moans and little cries I'd once heard Mom making in the night. Oh, God, if I hadn't been choked off, I'd have been moaning myself. He was a stud, no two ways about it. He fucked me like a man who knew his business and no matter how I fought, no matter how limp I tried to make my body go, I could not keep myself from responding. I think that was the moment when I really became a woman, and not just a girl with a cute face and a nice set of tits. Each stroke of his hammering, driving dick brought my orgasm closer and closer, and I knew I was going to have an orgasm. Every pore of my body sucked in erotic arousal and my belly did convulsions inside me. When I came it was going to be fantastic, no matter what the circumstances. I knew that, knew it to my never-ending shame and self-disgust.

God, I felt so helpless.

There was nothing I could do, so I didn't do anything. Except lie there and shiver and shake every time Tony's driving prick bit into my newly-awakened pussy. I had been fucked before, I told myself. It isn't anything new. But it was. I had never been fucked like this before, and I had never really been screwed at all. Not until Tony tied me to my bed and raped me, the night my mother died.

"I can feel it," he whispered into my face, and he kissed me hard on the mouth, slobbering all over my lips. His drool flowed into my mouth and, added to the panties clogging it already, came close to strangling me. For real, this time I gagged and gasped and tried to fight him but was too busy lurching and bucking toward a come that would blow off the top of my head. "You're gonna come," he said, smacking loose. "You're gonna come like a river, sticky pussy eating my rod. Your mother never came like you're gonna come, Becky. Let it go, baby, let it go! You want to come, so COME!"

His voice rose by degrees as he spoke, beginning as a whisper and hitting a high, almost shrill note when he ordered me to come. Something in his voice seemed to set me off like a blasting cap and I just exploded. One moment I was twitching and tensing, every nerve in my body stretched to the fraying point, and the next moment I was raw and rocking and shivery-fluid beneath Tony. He kept on fucking but I couldn't really feel it. Not now. I was vaguely aware of his dick continuing to punch up my pussy, but most of my attention was concentrated on the mad, blinding release of all my body energy.

Oh, God, how I strained at those nylon and rubber restraints that kept me fastened down! I wanted to shake and roll all over the bed. I wanted to wrap my arms around him, God help me, and hug him like a bear as he screwed in and out of my churning pussy. I'd never known an orgasm like that one. Stars exploded behind my tight-shut eyelids, and when I opened my eyes, the stars kept on exploding all around the room. I couldn't see Tony, couldn't remember that my stepfather was raping me while I was a fettered prisoner. All I knew was that I was coming, and it was the mast shattering come I had ever known in my life. I didn't even have time to think of the degradation that had become total. I orgasmed and orgasmed and orgasmed and if my pussy had been wet before, it was totally liquid now, great pools of hot juice drowning his cock as it continued to fuck in and out of me. My free leg was tight around him, and I held him fast, binding him to me the way I was bound to the bed.

I wasn't even aware of his own climax till it was well underway. It struck me all of a sudden that he wasn't thrusting in and out now, that he was lying hard and heavy upon me, like a lead weight, his cock jammed in me to its fullest. Sometime, between the contractions and shudders of my own come, I grew slowly aware that Tony's dick was jerking and shaking inside me, and I remembered, with effort, that Norman had done much the same thing the time I screwed him on our couch.

But, oh, my God, I hadn't felt this way when Norman fucked me, nor when Bucky did it to me! It hadn't been this intense, this shattering, even when I fingered myself to delicious sweet orgasms in the privacy of bed or bathroom. I groaned deliriously, ecstatically, and, as the convulsions of my body gradually slowed and slackened, Tony pried my lips open and pulled the panties out of my mouth. They were sopping wet now and I missed their tangy flavor as soon as it was gone. "Oh, Jeeeeeeesussssss!" It was all I could say.

Tony humped against me until his cock was empty. My reactions were returning to normalcy, slowly, very slowly, and I found myself looking up into his face as he finished dumping his load. My God, I thought, have I – have I really done this? His face was smug and triumphant and I realized how shameful my own must look – or would, when I had a chance to let the right emotions take over my body once more.

"How was that?" he said, rising up onto his knees. He had to fight my leg loose. I reacted slowly, too slowly, pulling my leg back after he'd already unclamped it from around his body.

His cock dragged out of my slit, and it was red and coated in creamy moisture, some of which spilled onto my belly and into my bush as he towered above me. He stayed there on his knees, panting, and his cock began to go soft as I looked down in horror, seeing the instrument and the juice that had ruined me. I wanted to sink into a bathtub and never come out. I didn't think I could ever cleanse my body of the horrid things he had done to me. But he hadn't done it alone. If I had only obeyed my first instinct, if I'd stayed limp and unresponsive. And I hadn't. I had contributed to my own shame – not freely, but with greedy, cunty enthusiasm. There was probably a circle in hell reserved for people like me, a circle very near the flames.

"Did you like it?" he said with a grin. He reached down, touched my belly where his jism had spilled onto it. "You don't have to answer. Nobody fakes an orgasm with Tony Roland. They don't have to fake it. Not when they're getting the best. And Becky, baby, you have had the best."

"Don't call me Becky," I said, tensely.

He pinched one of my nipples. It hurt like hell. My tits ached after the fuck Tony had dished out and his fingers only accentuated that ache. "Don't be hostile," he said. "This is no time for hostility, Becky. The way I see it, you're the woman of the house now. So you might as well move your things into our bedroom tomorrow sometime. You're not going to school are you? I mean with your mother dead and all? Just throw her things out of the dresser – whatever you don't want to keep. But I don't think any her clothes would took good oh you, baby. She had it all down here." He pinched at my waist, which was trim and tight and narrow, and his fingers slid down onto one hip. "You don't have any problems in that department. You oughta be good for another twenty or thirty years, easy. And after you've had it from me for a while, you could take the championship, easy. You're already pretty good. If Rocky had been as good as you, he'd have whipped the champ's ass, first round. Let me feel those tits again. I'm gonna like having them in bed with me every night. Mmmm, every night, baby."

"You sonofabitch," I growled. "You Goddamned sonofabitch!"

He laughed, and his finger trailed lazily down my chest, down my belly, into my pubic V. For a moment his finger toyed with my slit, and then he plunged it into me. I was sore from the fucking he'd given me and I screamed shrilly. Tony leaned forward fast, clamped his hand over my mouth. "Don't wake up the neighbors, baby. We wouldn't want them to know what a hot stud you've got for a stepdaddy, would we, Becky? Why, if word got out, you'd probably have to stand in line waiting for your turn, all those neighbor women lined up for a shot at old Dick, here." He worked his finger in my pussy with a vicious twist, then pulled it out, brought it up to my face. "Taste," he said. "You're gonna be sucking my dick a hell of a lot and I want you to know what my cum tastes like on your tongue. But just remember – you can't have any mote of it tonight. I have to keep up my strength. Tomorrow, though. Open your mouth, Becky honey. Open your mouth big and wide."

I didn't open my mouth but that seemed not to matter. Tony got his finger pushed between my lips and he worked at my teeth until they parted grudgingly, and his cummy finger stabbed into me.

He pushed my cheeks with the fingers of his other hand and made me suck him. The taste was all right, not as bad is some of the girls' locker room talk at school had led me to believe. Kinda salty, not really sweet but not really bitter, either.

Tony drew his finger out. "That's just a taste," he said. "I want you to diddle yourself tonight thinking about what it's gonna feel like when my dick blasts off down your throat. Your mother could suck a cock pretty good, for an old lady, I mean, but I know in my gut that you're gonna be a lot better. Those sweet little lips of yours – mmmmm!! I can hardly wait to feel 'em wrapped around my prick sucking and sucking till I shoot you full of seed. Are you on the pill? No? And you been fucking around all this time with no protection?"

"I haven't been fucking around," I snarled.

"Your pussy says different, Becky baby. Somebody's been in your little goodie-box. Well, from now on, it's mine, and don't you forget it. Buddy on the shift has a girlfriend who works for a doctor. I'll get you a prescription, because I like your tummy just the way it is. And the world doesn't need another Tony Roland. Christ, there wouldn't be enough women for two of us to fuck!"

"You're a bastard," I said. "A real bastard. Do you know that?"

Tony cupped my chin in his hand and he looked down at me thoughtfully. Then he slapped me very hard, first on the left cheek, then on the right. I knew I'd been hit. My face stung and my eyes were full of tears. I tensed in my bondage.

"One more to grow on," he said, and he hit me again. The tears rolled down my cheeks. "Now, Becky," he went on, "this is a lesson I hope I don't have to repeat. You're a smart girl. You oughta be able to appreciate the situation, now that it's changed the way it has. And as long as you're a good little smart girl and spread your legs the way I tell you, when I tell you, everything's gonna be hunky-dory around the house. Isn't it?" He drew back his hand and I nodded quickly.

"Okay. What would you like to do now? Take a bath? Douche your twat? Let me untie you. Sorry I had to be so rough, but some women take a little convincing. It's gonna be okay from now on, right?" I nodded again, but I don't think he noticed, because he was busy untying me. When I was free, I sat up, rubbing my wrists and the ankle that had been bound, trying to get the circulation flowing freely once more. My body was still aching from the orgasm I had gone through and I felt the most overriding sense of shame imaginable. I wanted to go to the bathroom, find a razor blade, and cut my wrists. But I didn't have the courage.

"If you want a little more," Tony said, "you know where. I sleep. Well, don't bother to knock. Just come on in."

He went out the door, not bothering to pick up his discarded clothes, just walking naked with his limp but still sizable cock swinging from thigh to thigh.

Somehow I dragged myself off the bed, and into the bathroom. I took off the ruined nightie and the ripped matching panties and filled the tub. A shower wouldn't be enough to cleanse me, and even a bath couldn't wash out my mind. I sank into the hot water, full of bubbles that smelled sweet and virginal, like fresh lilacs, and I tried to figure out where that awful person had come from, the one who sprang so suddenly from the corners of my brain when Tony was raping me. The person who had made me come like I came. I hated her, whoever she was, wherever she had come from. I bated her as much as I hated Tony Roland. I tried to think about my mother, but she was already growing fuzzy in my mind. I tried to remember her voice and I couldn't. That made me cry. For her, for myself, too. I didn't think I'd ever stop crying.

But I did, finally, and the water was growing cold, the bubbles all flat, when I stepped out of the tub and dried myself off. I wrapped up in the towel and went down the hall. Tony's door was open and he was lying naked on his bed, asleep. A cigarette smoldered in the ashtray on his nightstand. I tried to imagine what it would be like, living with him, going through this same thing every day, every night, until he tired of me. If he tired of me. My legs got weak and I had to brace myself against the wall.

I went into my bedroom. Sleep? I didn't think I could ever sleep, ever again. I wasn't sure I even wanted to. Tony could steal in while I was asleep, rape me again. And maybe this next time he wouldn't have to tie me down first. Maybe I'd remember the fantastic supercharged intensity of that unwanted organ, maybe I'd open my arms and legs and pussy to him freely, willingly.

"Oh. God, not that," I said in a small voice. "Anything but that!"

I went hastily to my dresser, dropping the towel on the way. I had a small canvas bag that used to carry my gym outfits in. It wasn't very big but it would hold a couple changes of underwear, and extra pair of jeans, maybe a shirt or two. I didn't even bother with bra and panties, just slipped my body into a sweatshirt and the first pair of denims I could grab up. Shoes, and my fall coat. How much in my purse? Twenty dollars. Not much, but all I had. I couldn't ask Tony for the money to run away, could I?

I went out the door and again I saw him lying there asleep. Like a baby, probably dreaming of what he'd done to me, of the way he'd degraded me – and my mother. Oh, oh, God, I hated him! I set the bag down and I tiptoed into his room. For a moment I stood beside the bed, looking at him. I looked around the room.

The ashtray. Yet I picked it up, tossing his burnt-down cigarette to the floor. It was an old-fashioned glass ashtray, heavy enough to double as a paperweight. Even if they caught me, I told myself, no jury in the world would ever convict me for this. I lifted the ashtray and brought it down on his forehead. Five, six, seven times. He stiffened on the bed and blood oozed through the wound I had made, and then his breathing went shallow and his head rolled to one side.

I gasped. I'd never killed anyone before. I dropped the ashtray onto the floor and ran out of the room, out of the house. Unless I were dead or a prisoner, I would never come back here again. Never! I hurried down the street, not looking, back, and my heels were on fire. I was running away from Tony, running away from the person I had stirred to life inside me.