Rape Machine

by Randi Masters

  Women are rotten, his father had said.

  He could remember his father telling him to go play with Joey. He could remember other things his father had said but they were only memories of what he'd said. He could remember the movement of his father's lips, the tone of the words in his ears, heavy there as if they were huge objects fallen on soft ground ... Women are rotten.

  He hated the orphanage ó hated it so much he ran away twice and was returned twice. With the gathering of years, he understood exactly what had happened between his mother and John ó exactly what had happened between his father and his mother ó and bitterly understood his father had died an alcoholic because of the thing his mother had done with other men.

  He learned to be good with his fists. Damned good before he left the orphanage because most of the boys who came to the orphanage were tough and you had to beat them or show them you could beat them before they'd stop bothering you. He became so good with his fists that no one bothered him, not even boys older and stronger than himself. Once there were three of them who tried to get him and they hurt him plenty, but in the end he beat all three of them.

  The way the three ganged up on him taught him early that you had to have others on your side. Just for those times when a gang might try to jump you.

  Although he hated all the other boys at the orphanage, he forced himself to act friendly with some of them until he had his own gang.

  He was never beaten. No boy had ever beaten him and no man had ever beaten him. He'd learned early. It's a tough world and you have to be tough to keep everybody from beating you.

  * * *

  He lit another cigar and when he glanced in the rear view mirror, he noticed the neon lights of the Burger King. Not many people eating hamburgers today, he thought, and he saw someone scurry from the building. The rain came harder as if a rain valve had been turned full force and he heard the rapid click-click of high heels on the sidewalk beside his car. It was a girl running along the sidewalk ó the one who'd left the Burger King ó and a fleeting glance told him several things: the girl was young, dark-haired, pretty. She was wearing a white uniform and a slick black raincoat over the uniform. While she ran, attempting to keep her hair dry, she held a folded newspaper above her head.

  As soon as she passed his car, he placed his cigar across the dashboard ashtray and slipped out of the car. He followed the girl, running also, but running in a way that would appear to any observer as if he ran to reach a nearby building; it was not the purposeful gait of a hunter or an attacker.

  But he was shortening the distance between the girl and himself ó slowly shortening the distance until now he could see the girl's legs beneath her slick black raincoat ó see very clearly the white curved calves of her legs as they jounced along the sidewalk before him. He saw also why she was holding a newspaper above her head to keep the rain off her hair ó she had one of those hairdos where the hair had been teased high. No hat or rain cap could have fitted onto that mass of fluffed hair.

  Rain beat against his face and splattered on his shoulders. The rain came harder and he felt his body gradually becoming soaked through all the layers of his clothing. He didn't mind. He'd never minded getting wet. His mother had never bought him a raincoat. Getting soaked completely in a heavy rainfall was always a strange, pleasurable sensation he could never understand ... and yet the sound of heavy rain brought the ghostly voice of his father echoing in his skull: Women are rotten. Women are rotten. Women are rotten. The words and the hate echoing over and over again in his mind, engulfing him with sound and hate ...

  He reached the girl and began to pass her on the sidewalk; both of them trotting side by side through the rain. He saw her pretty face flash a brief smile at him ó for a moment she considered him a comrade in this running-through-the-rain-game and then he flung his arm around her neck, catching her in the crook of his elbow; pulled and hurled her into the alley. She stumbled and her head struck one of the brick walls. He was upon her instantly with a hand to cover her mouth but it was not necessary ó the blow on her forehead had already cost her consciousness.

  Kneeling beside her, he tried to raise her black raincoat above her waist but there was some difficulty so he stood and, grasping her ankles, turned her upside-down and shook her viciously until her raincoat and skirt fell around her chest. He dropped her to the concrete floor of the alley and unzipped his fly, drawing his hardened cock out to stab before the hulk of his body like a thick lance. He dropped to his knees and tore the girl's panties from her body.

  The girl lay on her stomach and, still kneeling in the rain, he studied the soft curves of her buttocks. He separated her legs and, kneeling between them, grasped each of her thighs halfway between her hips and her knees.

  Still holding onto her, he rose and lifted her. Spreading her legs wider, he shoved his cock against the mat of her cunt. He jabbed again and again but could not get it in. He held her up with one hand and used his other hand to guide the tip of his cock between her labia. Returning the hand to her other thigh, he began to fuck her by jerking her body back and forth on the spear of his cock. Because of the odd position, he was unable to get in her completely but she had a good tight cunt and the position pleased him because he had never used it before.

  Standing with her body impaled on his cock, he fucked her by a jerking of his hips combined with brutally jerking her unconscious form. He stared at the whiteness of his cock sliding in and out of the small hairy mat of her cunt and stared at her round white buttocks as the rain beat against them.

  Her face and chest rested against the alley floor, the slick black raincoat and the white uniform fallen and tangled around her arms and chest. He jerked her more violently as the rain poured down on them and he suddenly felt like a king! She was absolutely in his power ó any woman could be absolutely in his power! He could fuck any woman any way he wanted!

  He jerked her limp form faster and faster. His cock burst with fire, a steel rod shattering with the liquid of his come. As he shot his come into her limp body, he heard her moan as she regained consciousness and he knew he would have to kill her. She had seen his face and she had not been under hypnosis. She would remember who raped her, so he had no choice. He raised her legs higher, changing the angle until he held her almost completely upside-down, pulling the softness of her cunt toward him and burying his pulsating prick deeper in it as he shot the last of his come into her.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  She was a tall, slender girl, blonde-haired. She'd been wearing falsies.

  Naked, her breasts were round and well shaped but disappointingly small.

  He'd left the TV in the car outside the motel, deciding not to hypnotize the call girl. The girl had taken the money, undressed, went to the bed, and laid down on it. He studied her naked body as she spread her legs and realized she wanted to get it over with as soon as possible.

  He grinned at her and pointed at the floor in front of him. "Come over here.

  Suck on my cock for a while."

  "You don't need anybody to suck on your cock," she said. "You're ready." Her eyes focused meaningfully on his erect penis.

  "I may not need it, but I want it."

  She sighed. She shifted to a sitting position on the edge of the bed. "Come over here," she suggested. "I don't like to get down on my knees ... it hurts my knees. Okay?"

  He walked to the side of the bed where she sat. She spread her legs so he could stand between them. She leaned forward and kissed the tip of his prick ... opening her mouth and leaning slightly until the knob slid in her mouth.

  He looked down at her as she sucked. She was good at it although she obviously didn't like it. He laughed. "You got the sucking power of a vacuum cleaner!"

  She stopped, glanced up at him. "Ready now?"

  "Naw ... Suck it all up. And swallow it. I like it. I think you're probably better this way." He patted the top of her blonde head.

  For an instant he saw the flash of hate in h
er eyes. Then she closed her eyes and resumed her task. He kept watching the circle of her red lips around his stiff cock and concentrated on the sucking wetness. Leaning to one side to look farther down, he saw the hairy lips of her cunt parted in her excitement, saw the quivering bud of her clit in the pink folds of her flesh. A small wet circle had appeared on the bed sheet, and he knew that she hated sucking cocks but it still excited her. She'd rather be fucked! He felt his cock swelling larger and larger. He tried to hold back, but he spewed into the warm cavern of her mouth.

  While she went to the bathroom, he stretched out on the bed. He'd paid for the whole night and decided he'd make her do it again. As soon as she came out of the bathroom, he said, "Suck it again. You're good."

  She lit a cigarette, puffed on it before she answered. "How come so soon?

  You in a hurry to go somewhere?"

  "Not in a hurry to go! In a hurry to come again!" He chuckled.

  "You're a great comedian. What do you do for a living ... write jokes?"

  "I didn't pay for sarcasm. I paid for you to suck my cock."

  Again he saw the flash of hate in her eyes. "You don't know what you're missing. I could give you a good ride."

  "I don't want a ride. I've had all kinds of rides. Good rides, bad rides, and rides on zombies."

  "Zombies?"

  "Skip it. Come on. Stop puffing on that goddamned cigarette and start puffing on my cock!"

  She knelt above him but with her thighs straddling his prick. She grasped it and held it aimed toward her cunt.

  "I could fuck you," she suggested. "You'd like it." She brushed the head of his slowly hardening prick against the strands of her cunt hair and pressed it against her labia.

  "I don't want to fuck you and I don't want you to fuck me," he growled. "I'm tired of cunts. Christ! What's a cunt? You broads walk around like you got something great between your legs. But what the hell is it? A slit in your skin, that's all. Christ! I could go to a butcher shop and get a piece of meat and cut a slit in it and stick my cock in it and get the same fun!"

  Her face reddened and she trembled in her anger. He felt a tremendous and unexplainable inward satisfaction. In a way this was better than the girls at the tennis court! They'd been zombies! This girl was far from a zombie, she was very much alive and hating his guts every minute but she'd have to do every damned thing he wanted her to do because he'd paid her!

  "I'll bet you forgot how to fuck a girl," she goaded.

  He laughed and seized both her breasts, squeezing until she winced with pain. "I didn't forget! Get started or I'll fuck one of your goddamned ears!"

  She started. This time he made her work harder ó holding back harder so she had to not only double her efforts but also work twice as long. She paused three times to rest but resolutely continued until his sperm flowed.

  "You're good," he complimented. "Damned good. What's your name?"

  "Connie."

  "Connie. I'll remember that. I might ask for you again."

  She rose from the bed and went to her purse. He watched as she removed a pack of cigarettes, lit one. She puffed a cloud of smoke at the ceiling, hate still smoldering in her eyes. "Ask for me again," she said. "Ask for me every day in the week if you want. You know what I'm going to do with all the money I'm making from guys like you?"

  "What?"

  "I'm going to buy a yacht. A real yacht. It won't take much longer and I'll be able to pay cash for it."

  "Yeah? You make a lot of money getting fucked, do you? Bring me that pack of cigars over there, will you?"

  She hesitated before she moved slowly to the bureau and picked up the pack of cigars and lighter, bringing them to him. He unwrapped one of the cigars and ó as he was lighting the cigar ó the word she'd said, the word yacht registered in his mind with more impact.

  A yacht ... a boat was what he needed!

  If he owned a boat, he could use the TV to hypnotize the prettiest goddamn woman he could find, take her out on the boat, way out on the water where no one could hear her scream, break the hypnotic spell ó fuck her, let her scream her goddamn head off. "I've been thinking about buying a boat," he said. "Anyplace around here you can buy a boat?"

  She shrugged her shoulders. "They might have some for sale at the marina at Barnes' Creek."

  "Okay. Maybe I'll go there and buy one. If I buy one, I'll give you a call and you can come there and give me another blow job."

  "I can hardly wait."

  "But I'll give you a ride on the boat too." He looked at her as he waited for the answer. She made no answer, only glancing at him a moment. He knew she thought he was joking. She didn't believe he had enough money to buy a boat. He smoked the cigar and slipped a hand between her thighs, absently poking a finger into her pussy while she smoked her cigarette. A truck went by on the highway outside the motel and when the sound died, there was no other sound in the world.

  She finished her cigarette and crushed it in the ashtray. She placed the ashtray on the bed beside him where he could use it for his cigar ashes. She rose, stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "It must be past midnight," she said. "You ever heard of that stuff they call sleep?"

  "Yeah. I heard of it." He took the cigar from his mouth and studied the length of ash.

  "Shall we get some of that stuff?"

  "As soon as I finish this cigar and as soon as you suck my cock again."

  "Again? A third time?" He noticed that her face whitened at the thought of doing it a third time. He wondered why she hated doing it so much. Most whores were used to it.

  "I never get tired of it," he said.

  "You can't make it a third time!"

  "Want to bet?" He laughed. "No. We can't bet that way, can we, because you wouldn't try as hard!"

  "You can't make it a third time," she persisted.

  "I'll bet I can." He slid a hand beneath his pillow and withdrew his wallet.

  He pulled five one-hundred-dollar bills from it and gave them to her. He returned his wallet to its place beneath the pillow, directly beneath his head.

  She was holding the five one-hundred-dollar bills with both hands, staring at them unbelievingly.

  He said, "You make me come again and the five hundred is yours. A bonus."

  "Hey," she said softly. "This is real money. You must be rich."

  He smiled. The money meant nothing to him. He hadn't done any work since he got the TV set and with it he could get all the money he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He watched as Connie placed the money in her purse and then crouched above him, beginning to suck on his cock again. This third time, so soon after the other two times, would be the hardest of all. She had to suck for five minutes before his prick even started to get hard. He felt the come deep in his body, gathering for the third explosion into her mouth, but he could feel it gathering slowly and almost reluctantly. She grasped his prick beneath her mouth and began to squeeze and jerk but he told her to stop cheating. She obediently removed her hand and kept on working with only her mouth. He watched the beads of sweat gather on her naked body and listened to the sound of her harsh breathing. She was exhausting herself to earn that money and, as he closed his eyes to concentrate on the sensation of her lips and mouth on his cock, he realized that, with a woman like Connie, money was as good as a whip.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Clark sat in the chair by the door and watched Sid and the woman named Helen Kessler. Sid was seemingly emotionless as he scribbled in his notebook, although Mrs. Kessler paused often as she burst into tears. " ... I know she was raped," Mrs. Kessler was saying. "I know it. Debbie isn't the kind of girl to ó "

  Clark leaned forward in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees and entwined his fingers. He felt more and more uncomfortable and was beginning to feel foolish about his request to accompany Sid during the investigation of his wife's attack. Sid had called him on the phone and had told him to meet him here at this address, but had not explained how
this case was related to his wife's.

  His mind drifted to memories of Alma ó sweet memories of how she had been when she was alive; painful memories of the void following her death. His head began to ache and he rubbed his forehead. He listened to only fragments of the conversation between Sid and Mrs. Kessler.

  "When did you first suspect your daughter had been attacked?"

  "After she returned from the courts ó "

  "Courts?"

  "The tennis courts in the recreation area. You can see them from here.

  Debbie has gone there often to play tennis with her friends. We never dreamed ó " Sobbing. "We never dreamed she'd be in any danger there. As soon as she returned today, I thought something was wrong. She looked so ... pale. And she looked as if something horrible had happened. I asked her if anything was wrong and she said no. I told her to go upstairs and wash.