[ 178 ]
She walks back to the bed, dangling the manacles above Frank’s face—the stainless steel glinting blue in the diffuse light of late afternoon filtering through the motel’s thin drapes. She stares into the grey-blue wells of the detective’s eyes. They are dark-circled, the pupils a scrimshawed webwork of enflamed veins that betray his obsession & his sleepless nights. She sees the hate & anger he hopes to slake in the slow burn fury of S.E.X.
“Okay, Big Man,” Cherry taunts, her voice a cooing whisper tight with need yet unfulfilled. Her gaze drifts downward to his jutting erection, “—now you get to prove just how tough you really are…”
She climbs back into the sack, cuddling up to Frank, rubbing her furry mons against his aching penis, teasing him, kissing the huge bruise on his chest, rolling over ’til she faces away from him, pressing the lush globes of her buttocks back against his groin & belly, crushing the dark crevice between her wriggling ass cheeks hard against his throbbing stiffness & the forest of wiry hairs sprouting from his pubic mound… Her skin down there feels so hot so smooth so slick, like oiled sealskin warmed by a raging hearth.
She kneels up, waggling her sensuous backside in his face.
“Handcuff me.” She says.
“Wwwhat?” Frank mumbles. “No way, Lady, that’s sicko stuff—”
[ 179 ]
“The scene that ensued thereafter was the sexual equivalent of a ‘feeding frenzy’ of human sharks. Skull Man claimed lead position in the gang rape that now seemed eminent…stimulated beyond any bounds of reason by the sight of the young girl held captive by the two women & forced to grovel & squirm astride the grotesquely obese cop, he threw himself upon her even as the man beneath her groaned & spasmed in the first throes of release. He wasted no time in formalities. He merely pushed her face-downwards with her belly rubbing against the fat man’s gut, tugging the child-sized penis from where it was lodged in her backside, her bottom cheeks now waving seductively before him. I suppose originally he may have intended to simply enter her vagina via the most expedient route, from the rear, dog-style, as he might better ease himself at length into her untried depths from that point of vantage… But Skull Man’s gaze now fixed upon her obscenely exposed derrière. Grasping her slender hips in his bony hands, he thrust his brutal ramrod forward, entering her already-anointed anus with slow yet unyielding determination. Gently at first. Then, as the disproportion of their sexual parts hindered his progress, ever more savagely… This time she experienced no pleasure. This was Vlad-like impalement. She writhed & shrieked in torment. But she was a helpless captive of his unnatural lust…”
[ 180 ]
“So it’s kinky? So what? This is my little game. You want to get off, Big Man…? Then you play it my way: You’re the Vice Cop, & I’m this little teenage-jailbait hooker you just busted; you find out I’m a runaway, & you promise to pay me & let me loose if I’ll do anything you want…” She peeps around at him, her head cocked pertly, her face flushed from the heat of her admittedly perverse desires, her red hair glows like tendrils of flame flowing across the bronzed curve of her shoulders & upper back. His words may protest, but his blue-grey eyes prove their falsehood—there is a new fire raging out of control, his suppressed hate & anger fueling the wildfire blaze.
Once more Cherry bows her head in mock submission.
“You’ve already made me suck you off. You’ve already screwed me missionary-style. But now you wanna get rough. Real rough. No more Mr. Niceguy. No. Now you’re Mr. Hardguy. Mr. Rough Trade himself… You handcuff me—” she pauses for a moment, waiting for him to make his move, letting her words sink in, “I said, YOU FUCKING HANDCUFF ME, GOT IT, MR. HARDGUY…?”
Frank feels a flaming fishhook in his backbrain, tugging back the trapdoor, letting loose the serpents of subconscious, the serpents of seductive Evil wriggling down there inside the darkness… He lifts the manacles from where they lie upon the crumpled, sweat-soaked sheets. The metal burns like dry ice like cold fire in his palm. He can feel them cauterize his flesh where they make contact. He can see blue wisps of smoke or steam rising from the chill fire of their curves. Now he is caught up in the game. Now he is a willing player.
“Okay, You Little Bitch-Slut,” he snarls, “now you’re goin’ to pay for sellin’ your hot little ass… & gettin’ caught!”
He grasps her wrists. Painfully. Clicks the joining halves into place. The sound echoes through the room, magnified & maddening. A sound distorted beyond reason. Now she is his. He looks down at her, kneeling submissively, her face buried in the pillow, her ass thrust lewdly in the air, wrists clamped & chained in subjugation. Mr. Hardguy’s helpless captive. The sense of POWER rushes up his spine, buzzing, swelling his pounding head, threatening to burst the limits of his cranium, threatening to spill forth in a wildfire of raging BLUE.
[ 181 ]
“—When Skull Man finally finished in her, far from being through with his assault upon her innocence, he merely withdrew his spent but still stiff & rearing member, guiding it down the dark cleft between her buttocks ’til the swollen purple head of the thing nudged against the hairless furrow of her Vaseline-slicked vulva, nuzzling past the tight little lips, into the mouth of her yet-virgin vagina. Mother & Aunt Babs & his fellow blue meanies, already circled ’round to enjoy the former spectacle, now cheered him on as he assayed to penetrate her in the ‘normal’ fashion… His renewed attack upon her immature charms drew further wails & protestations from Little Kathie begging him to stop. But plead & struggle as she might, he, of course, proved her cruel & unrelenting master. He took her dog-style, ramming his huge penis all the way into the secret & heretofore unexplored depths of her vaginal vault, bursting her hymen, rendering her slit a bloody mess as he penetrated her to the hilt…”
[ 182 ]
“Spank me,” Cherry tells him, “I’ve been bad. Very bad! I need to be punished, Mr. Po-lice-man! I need you to tan my bottom! Spank me! Spank me like Daddy always did…”
He kneels up behind the redhead, his gaze fixed on the lush, tempting swell of her upturned rump. His huge right hand unknots from tensely clenched fist into cupped palm, he draws it back, waiting in slow deliberation, the execution of her requested punishment threatening, taunting her with the harsh promise of the sudden jolts of pain she craves. His hand lashes downward, striking the soft, yielding flesh of her proffered backside, the slap ripping the air like a thunderclap in the hushed silence, drawing a long, low, throaty moan… “Oooooohhhhh, yes, Mr. Po-lice-man, yes, Daddy, hurt me hurt me hurt mmmeeeee…” Cherry mewls in delighted torment.
If Frank could see her face, he would see her pouting lips parted in an excited “O” of pure pleasure, the tip of her pink tongue darting wetly across their scarlet flower-petal pucker, panting in shallow, rasping gasps of unhinged desire, cheeks brightly flushed.
But, instead, he sees only her gloriously rounded bottom, jiggling from the force of his blow, the red welt of his huge handprint marking the creamy whiteness of her abbreviated bikini-line glowing in the half-light against the rich bronze of deep tan… Again & again & again his hand draws back, descends, striking with resounding slaps of white-hot torment, raising welts on the tender flesh, raising lewd moans & strings of obscenities pleading for him always to “hurt me hurt me, please, I’ve been so naughty, Daddy, punish me…”
Every man wishes to be a tyrant when he fornicates, the infamous quote by the Marquis de Sade flickers through Frank’s throbbing brain in letters of trailing blue flame. Never before had he grasped the mind-swirling profoundness of those words. Their true meaning hits him in a visionary rush of REVELATION.
“You asked for it, You Hot-Cunt Little Fucking Bitch! I’ll teach you to sell your ass to strangers! I’ll teach you to strut your fuckin’ stuff in front of me, & wiggle & jiggle your little tushie in my face, You Fucking Little Jailbait Whore, I’ll teach you how t’ fucking fuck! Ever do it dog-style…?”
[ 183 ]
“—& when he had done
his thing with her, he offered her to the others, lifting her from atop the monstrous human altar of her virgin sacrifice, rolling her over on her back with her legs thrown wide to better display the savaged aftermath of the heinous rape. That they took their turns with her I know. But of it I saw nothing else for quite some time…”
[ 184 ]
They are locked in the roles of their demented game, keying off each other’s comments, playing it out line-for-line, caught up in the heat of their sick fantasy of a sadistic Fascist-Pig-Vice-Cop brutalizing a wayward teenage girl:
“NO! NO! Pllllleeeasssse! NO!” Cherry begs, the voice of outraged almost-innocence, “Not like that! I’ve never done it that way before! It seems so dirty, like an animal! Let me over on my back, I’ll spread for you, Mister—I promise! Just pppllleeeassse, don’t make me do it that way! You can stick it up my little pussy that way, or you can jack off all over my belly & my titties, or you can do it between by boobies or in my mouth again! I’ll swallow all of it this time, I promise!
“I’ll even tell you about the time when I was a freshman in high school & these older guys from the football squad sneaked into the girls’ locker room & caught me & my friend Mindy with all our clothes off in the shower, & they whipped us with wet towels & threw us down on the tiles of the water-flooded stall & felt us up all over & pushed their fingers up our pussies & our bottoms, & then they…they…gangbanged us…”
[ 185 ]
“—In the background, masking the commotion, Fats Waller tickled & tormented the ivories through rendition after rendition of ‘Ain’t Misbehavin’,’ jangling away on the Victrola.
“Skull Man forced Me to fellate him ’til his erection raged once more. Of it, I recall vividly a taste like stale shrimp & nutmeg, & the familiar saltiness & chlorine-bleach tang of semen. He took Me down as he had the girl, penetrating Me anally. Somewhere inside My screams & the tearing agony, The Great Night opened up to Me & made Me one with it, transforming Me from mortal flesh into a child-God of pure Hate & Vengeance…the others now followed Skull Man’s example. One held Me down on My hands & knees while the other pig-prick buggered Me. You see why I hate those fucking blue meanies, Bible Boy…? At the age of four they used Me like a jail punk, & I was ‘forced to pull a train’ for all of them in turn, while My drunken mother & her slut-friend stood by, cheering on My anal-assailants…”
[ 186 ]
What is she, some kind of fucking mindreader…? Frank thinks, it wasn’t quite like that, but close enough to touch a hidden nerve:
He has been ashamed of it for years, buried it away in some mnemonic lockbox or closet or dam of the subconscious, but now it boils forth not in shame but in a furied rush of awakened sick desire. Something he’s never confided in anyone before. Never. Not even Judy Lynn. But now, something breaks loose. The lid pops. The door swings open. The sluice gate gives way. The pent-up anger & the pain & all those sleepless nights & the need to at long last confess his dirty, festering secret. The Hero’s transcendence through this ritual purging himself of the mortal weakness of the flesh…? The lure of absolution…? Or simply the wild panpipes of desire conjuring forth the Serpent from its pit of nesting in hidden depths of darkness…?
A long, low groan of torment wells from deep within Frank’s chest, & Cherry senses she has grasped a touchstone charged with immense potential. & her body quivers with near-orgasmic intensity with the knowledge of this power she now wields…
The words spill out, unbidden: “There’s this thing that happened, Cherry. It was in high school. I’ve never told anyone. But I have to… I was a junior, a tackle on the varsity team. Yeah, a BMOC with all the hot-pants cheerleaders & hangers-on & all that shit. I got plenty of pussy. Plenty. At the drive-in, mostly, in the backseat of Daddy’s borrowed Buick…
“But this one night, me & my pals were drunk. More beer than we could handle. Buddy Nash said he had a great idea. He didn’t say what at first. He just said it was a chance too good to miss. There were eight of us guys. We all packed into Dale Hewlitt’s Chevy, & Buddy told Dale where to drive. We pulled up in the alley next to a house I sure didn’t recognize. At that point Buddy finally told us what this hot deal was: this girlfriend of his little sister’s was babysitting over there; the parents wouldn’t be home until early the next morning, & this girl, Lois, he said was a real hot-ass little slut. He said he’d made this date with her, & she’d agreed she’d put out for him & maybe a couple of his football friends…”
[ 187 ]
“—But as for My fellow victim, the girl, Kathie…? Her suffering would not last out the long night of torment. No. She, too, The Great Night claimed. As sacrificial victim. Perhaps one or more did rape her. Before him. I shall never know. Nor care. But, in any case, obsessed beyond any boundaries of reason with the desire to have the girl again (this time as he had initially intended—‘straight,’ up the ‘birth canal’ of her immature, battered vagina…), the mammoth pig bastard bullied his way past the onlookers & waiting ravishers & climbed between her thighs, mounting the fragile rise of her belly, a fashion, considering his enormous bulk, dangerous to even a full-grown woman.
“She shrieked once more as the weight of his flesh sank down upon her. His first thrusts were met by an ear-splitting scream & a splintering of bone like dry twigs trampled underfoot…
“Yes, You Bible Hawking Cocksucker, she died. Just one more little martyr with no cause to celebrate, save the passing over into Eternal Hell, another slave to service her slayer in the final Paradi(c)e. I know you shall never believe this, but I could see her soul exiting the clay of flesh, BLUE so BLUE it caused My eyes to burn, Yes, even as I-the-child knelt upon the floor, My own flesh shrieking from the torment of sodomy those pig-fuck-cocksuckers forced Me to endure, even then I opened My mouth & I summoned that BLUE lifeforce to enter Me, & it bade My calling, & I swallowed it into Myself & made it one with Me…”
[ 188 ]
“We’ve all looked around at each other—there sure as shit were more than a couple, any way you figured.
“‘Fuck it, the more the merrier,’ Buddy said. ‘I told you she’s a slut! The more cock she gets, the better she’ll dig it, right?’
“Now, Buddy had this reputation for being a bit crazy, & I didn’t know his sister or how old her girlfriend might be. Dale did. He started to ask, ‘ain’t she a little young f’r us…?’ But Buddy cut him off. ‘She’s a slut… Who the fuck cares how old she is if she likes to spread her legs?’
“Some of us did care. I know I did. But we were drunk. & there was peer pressure—none of us wanted to seem like some kind of chickenshit or faggot.
“‘Awww, fuck it’ Bob Ellsworth said, ‘You guys know the saying, “a hard cock knows no conscience,” who the fuck cares as long as we all get a nice tight little piece of ass…?’
“Buddy whispered something into Dale’s ear, then went around to the front door. He disappeared for a while. Dale looked at his watch in the light of the streetlamp. He gestured for us to follow him. He led us around to the back door. He tried the knob: it was unlocked. He put his finger to his lips to signal silence, & then let the whole troupe in. Man, were we all in for a big surprise…”
Frank is lost in his monologue, & Cherry rolls over onto her right side, pivoting on the crumpled sheets until she faces toward him. She curls up like a contented kitten, hanging on his every word, her wrists still cuffed in mock servitude to his role of Brutal Dominating Male. She reaches out, so gently he does not consciously register her contact. She cradles him, two-handed, stroking his fiercely throbbing cock with feather-soft caresses, teasing on the wavelengths of the subliminal.
“They were in the living room: it wasn’t just Buddy & this young chick we sneaked in on. No. It was Buddy playing ‘Doctor’ or some other kind of strip game with this kid Lois & his own sister, Missie, & neither of these girls could’ve been a day over twelve…
“They had their blouses off, & were showing him their titties—Lois was stacked pretty go
od for her age, but Missie’s were only tiny pointed cones with pink, stiff, rubbery little nipples. Yeah, I felt guilty peepin’ in on them like that. I knew they were way too young for us t’ be messin’ around with, Cherry, y’ know, but somehow I just couldn’t stop myself, even though I knew how wrong it was. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the lure of the forbidden. Or maybe just plain cat-incautious youthful curiosity about anything you’ve never seen or heard or tried…but maybe wondered…”
Duet for the Devil Page 34