It made him sick and yet it excited him, too, to think that a woman could be degraded that much, that a man or men could have total and absolute power over her, forcing her to do anything, to say anything, no limits whatsoever. What if he took Mandy’s clothes away and humbled her? What if she had to spend a night outside and got hungry and desperate enough to beg or even to rummage through garbage for edible scraps? And what if when he finally rescued her, she knew forever more she would have to please and obey him totally and without question or he might do it to her again?
“I have to go to the bathroom.” He rose hastily, excusing himself, the semen in his cock on the verge of surging free.
“Don’t be long,” Lorenzo counseled. “The feature acts are due up next.”
Blake grit his teeth. If this were all preliminary, what would the main show be like? “I won’t,” he forced a smile. “Don’t worry.”
***
The diner was off the interstate, part of a large, sprawling complex of gas stations, hourly motels, showers and souvenir stands. It was a twenty-four-hour-a-day place, fluorescent lighted, peopled by an endless stream of tired truckers and overwrought tourists. It was hardly Tom Rains’ first choice of a place to have an intimate conversation, but Pamela was insistent
“I don’t want to be alone,” she explained, justifying her sudden reversal on wanting to go to a quiet place.
He felt that he was a cad, treating her to such paltry fare, especially in light of what he’d done to her—disgracing and practically raping her—but she seemed ecstatic over her chicken fried steak and iced tea. He let her eat in peace, watching her devour the meal like she hadn’t seen food in a week. For his part, he picked at the open-faced roast beef sandwich on sponge bread wishing it were something, anything else.
Mostly he wanted to be holding Pamela in his arms, comforting her, making it all better. But she was so edgy tonight, and he could hardly get near her. That was his fault, too. It was a miracle she’d even agreed to meet him. Truthfully, if she wished to, she could pursue the matter legally, hitting him with a harassment charge.
“Pamela,” he finally broke the silence. “We have to put our relationship back on the right footing—and by relationship, I mean our professional association.”
Pamela looked up, swallowing a mouthful. Tom tried to maintain eye contact. Her obvious lack of a bra was driving him crazy.
“Tom,” she drew a deep breath, tenting her nipples. “You were right about me all along.”
“Oh?” He wanted to tear her shirt off her body, he wanted to put her over his knee, he wanted to love her and punish her and…
“I’m not what I seem, Tom. I’m not Pamela Haley. I’m Pamela Haley Renfrew.”
It took a moment for the name to register. “The Pamela Renfrew?”
“The one and only,” she nodded soberly. “America’s darling, missing heiress. The story of the year seven years ago.”
He paused to let it all sink in. “So you weren’t…”
“Murdered? No,” she smiled grimly. “Obviously not. Though I was abducted, and that’s where the complicated part comes in. I was sold as a sex slave, Tom. For two years I was a piece of property, used and abused for the pleasure of whatever men my master chose to give me to.”
Tom felt the blood drain from his face. This pretty, sexy woman across from him, so together and poised, so elegant and refined had been made into a…a...the word wouldn’t even form in his mind. “My god,” he whispered fiercely, taking her hand. “You poor thing. It must have been horrible.”
Pamela snatched it back. “It doesn’t work like that, Tom.” Her head was down, glaring at her plate. “He did things to me—Lorenzo, my master—he got inside my head, he…”
“He what?” Tom blurted, wanting her to say it, whatever it was so they could deal with it and move on. “Did he brainwash you? Is that it? Because you can get counseling, if you haven’t already thought of it.”
She laughed, the sound dry and humorless. “You don’t get counseling for this sort of thing. Not in the world we live in. The truth is, he made me enjoy it.” Her blue eyes were back on his, moist and open. “That’s right, Tom, I grew to need it, to love it, even. The worse I was abused, the harder I came.”
The blood pounded in the principal’s head. For some reason he could not get the images out of his head, of sexy, bright eyed Pamela, her younger self, loving abuse, enjoying her service as a sex slave, doing things on command. Fucking and sucking and…and whatever else one did to a slave. Anything and everything. Whips, chains, beatings, deprivation, humiliation, total power over her every movement, her every thought and breath. It was almost more than he could bear, it made him want to get up and run away, or else to reach across and shake her up, to put some sense in her head, her pretty little slave’s head.
“But you got away,” he insisted, breaking the train of his wicked thoughts. “You—you’re different now. Something had to have changed.”
She couldn’t hold up to his penetrating, expectant eyes. He could see that she wanted to please him, more than anything, but she was like a reed, bending in the wind. “I—I—yes…” she shook her head, perplexed. “I mean…”
“No. Not another word,” he put his finger over her lips. “You don’t owe me any explanations. It’s all in the past, that’s all that matters. We move forward now.”
“Yes,” she replied, smiling for him. “We move forward.”
Tom stifled his frown. He wasn’t at all convinced that she was convinced. But what more could she be hiding? Everyone had things in their pasts they regretted, things they had done that if they could do all over, they’d make it go another way, take another road. In his case, he would have hopped a train or flown a plane or dug a tunnel to China to have avoided being at Old Man Watkin’s barn, the night of the 31st of October, 1984—Halloween—at half past eleven as the boys first began to gather around their willing victim.
They were eighteen at the time, seniors in high school. Sex was a dream for most of them, an option available to only the lucky few. Not many kids were sexually active in those days. Danielle Moore was one of them. She had a reputation for playing with the boys, anytime, anywhere. Her father was a drunkard on disability. Her body was petite and curvy, and she had outstanding breasts and pretty brown eyes. Tom’s buddies Hank and Will were the ones who went to get her, offering her a night of fun in the abandoned barn; a chance to blow her previous stunts out of the water, setting a personal record for number of fucks in one night.
There were about a dozen guys when the pickup pulled up with the girl inside. Danielle had on jeans and a t-shirt, covered by a denim jacket. “Let’s get it on,” she challenged, taking one look at the horny, drooling young men.
They took her inside where she disrobed. Hank and Will told her to do it good and slow and it seemed to excite her when they started barking orders, telling her how to pose herself.
Her eyes were smoldering by the time she was down to her bra and panties. It was cold in the barn and her skin was covered in goose pimples. “You got a blanket or something to do this on?” she asked.
“No, bitch,” Hank told her, something shifting in his voice. “We don’t.”
“We’re gonna do you on the ground,” rasped Will, picking up on the power exchange. “On the hay. Is that a problem?”
“No,” Danielle licked her lips, soft and sexy. “It’s not.”
“Let’s tie her,” one of the boys whispered somewhere in the back.
Danielle looked like she was going to swoon. Tom felt sorry for her, because she seemed so alone and so cold, but he couldn’t deny his throbbing cock. He wanted to take her—moreover he wanted to see how far they could push her first.
“Give me the bra, slut,” Hank held out his hand.
Danielle reached behind her back, unsnapping the cotton bra and bearing her proud but vulnerable young breasts. Just eighteen years old, but already held and squeezed by so many.
Hank stayed where
he was, making her come forward. She did so meekly, her bare feet swishing over the hay. Hank snatched the white garment from her hand.
“Turn around,” he said gruffly. “Hands behind your back.”
The girl gave a little shudder as he cinched her wrists tight, imprisoning her with her own undergarment. How small she seemed now, how pale.
“Take a good look,” Hank spun her back around to face the barn full of boys. They’d all opened their flies, Tom included and started stroking their thick, pulsing cocks. “You’re gonna satisfy each one of those dicks—over and over and over. Shit, I can come four times a night just by myself. How about the rest of you?”
Numbers were shouted out, some real, some fanciful, each representing a small fraction of the number of times Danielle would actually offer up her body before the night was over.
“Who’s first?” Will wanted to know.
“Let the slut choose!” someone suggested.
“Good idea.” Hank shoved Danielle to her knees. “Crawl to the dick you want in you first.”
“How can she choose without a taste test?”
There was laughter now, followed by a chant, “Taste test! Taste test!”
“Go on,” Hank shoved her forward onto her face. “Lick them all, then choose.”
Danielle had to struggle back to her knees. There were pieces of hay stuck to her chest and in her hair and she was flushed with excitement. The nipples were engorged, and for the first time in his young life, Tommy Rains was looking at a female in deep sexual arousal. Taking his place in the line, ramrod straight, a pornographic review of soldiers facing the excited girl, he waited for his caress.
Danielle took her time, reverencing each spear of flesh. She was licking like she knew what she was doing, which re-enforced in everyone’s mind what a slut she was. Each young man groaned for her and none of them wanted to let her go. But Hank was insistent that she keep moving. The testosterone was pumping so thick by the time she got to the end, Tom was half afraid they would rush on her and tear her to pieces.
“You,” said the bound girl, looking at Tom. “I want you first.”
There were howls round the moonlit, wood slatted barn as Tom was given manly slaps and good-natured pokes and jibes in the ribs. Hank, who was more than a little jealous, pushed Danielle down to the ground with his boot, pressing her back down hard into the hay. “Go kiss his feet then, you little whore!”
A couple of the boys balked at the rough treatment, but Hank told them to shut up, that the bitch was his to do with what he wanted.
Tiny, lithe Danielle was forced to wriggle, propelling herself as best she could with her feet and shoulder along the barn floor. Tom’s mouth was dry. He was glued to the spot. He shook his head, knowing it was wrong but at the same time he was mesmerized by the sight of the bound helpless girl, so sexy and desirable, forced to abase herself like this in front of all these males, like an animal…like a slave.
He couldn’t feel the little lapping tongue through the top of his dusty shoe, but he could see her down there. His cock hurt so bad he wanted to explode.
“Suck him off now, Danielle. Swallow his cum.”
Danielle got back up on her knees, her body slick with sweat, her skin covered in hay and dust as she sought to obey Hank’s orders.
“Take it deep, cunt,” Hank coached, his hands working at his belt to remove it from the loops.
It seemed strange to Tom that the girl should be subjugating herself to him while obeying Hank. It was like being in a dream. A kind of fog was hanging over the place as he steadied himself on her frail shoulders. Danielle was sucking him in earnest, her red lipped mouth like a vacuum hose as she sought to bring him to fulfillment. She had a long night ahead…a dozen or more dicks, times two, maybe three and she didn’t need to waste time.
Tom clenched his teeth, shuddering. He’d never been in a girl’s mouth, much less filled it with his jism and he was scared to death. Naked, tied Danielle wasn’t going anywhere, and when the time came she deep throated him, pulling him to the hilt.
He cried out to the rafters, his voice stirring a family of bats in the upper loft of the long neglected structure.
“Drink it, bitch, every drop,” Hank said cruelly, rubbing in the fact that Danielle had lost her say in the matter, her freedom for the night.
Giving her no time to rest, he grabbed her by the back of her hair. “Pick another one, slut. Pick another dick.”
The boys were circling round her. Tom staggered back, sick to his stomach. He vomited outside, under the cold, silent stars. Inside he could hear the chanting, “Go, go, go.” Daring to look in through the open doorway a few minutes later he saw Danielle was on her back now, Billy Turner on top of her, pummeling away with his cock. Her legs were wide apart on either side of him, and her hands were still bound behind her back. Billy was grunting, practically frothing at the mouth as he readied himself to shoot off. A line of saliva ran from the corner of his mouth down to her defenseless tits.
“Oh, yeah,” he growled, his hands squeezing her breasts, his ass shaking in the air. “That’s it, whore. Take it, you little cunt.”
Danielle took the load in silence. Nor did she react a moment later when Hank short-circuited her right to choose, calling for Ralph Embery to take Billy’s place of domination over her body.
Two more followed with Danielle totally passive and then Hank intervened, sounding pissed. “She ain’t reacting enough. “I’d say this meat needs tenderizing.”
There was a hook from the ceiling, a left over from the barn’s beef cattle days. Jury-rigging some ropes, they tied her arms over her head, stringing her up on tiptoes. Hank had been dying to use his belt and now he had his chance. Danielle moved beautifully under the leather, like she was born to kiss it with her soft skin. Hank strapped her thoroughly, front and rear, inducing closed eyed gyrations and piteous, aroused moans that made Tom hard all over again.
He was ashamed of himself; he knew he should be trying to intervene, or else go for the sheriff, but there was just something so right, so perfect about seeing her like this. He knew he could never have sex with her or touch her after this, but he couldn’t walk away, either. He told himself he was there to protect her, to make sure they didn’t go too far. But how much was too far—for him or her? Letting her take a thorough belt beating that left her skin red and welted? Seeing her put on all fours in the dust so two of them at a time could fuck her from front and back? Watching her service penis after penis, taking wad after wad into her stomach and cunt and even her tight little asshole? Or what about seeing them circle up round her when they were all finally done two hours later so they could drain their excess fluid, bathing her prone, near lifeless body in hot, steamy urine?
“Now you know,” said Hank to her as the boys pulled their clothes back together. “What we do with little sluts who like fucking too much.”
“You still here?” Will laughed, passing Tom at the doorway. “Good, you can drive her home.”
Which is exactly what Tom did, helping the exhausted, sexually sated girl to her feet and back out to the well where she could clean up. The water was like ice and she whimpered as he sponged her down. She looked so good to him, like a wet little rag doll standing there on the grass under the stars, he just had to have her. Danielle put up no resistance as he lowered her freshly scrubbed body for one final fuck. He emptied himself satisfyingly, delivering a most copious load of semen. She wasn’t screaming and writhing anymore the way she had when they’d used her fresh from her whipping, wet and eager, but he felt a closeness, a bond he couldn’t put into words.
They didn’t exchange a word the whole way back over the dirt road to the rusty, beat up trailer she lived in with her father and two younger brothers. It was well after four in the morning by this point and he could hear the father screaming the minute she opened the creaking screen door. A single cry from the girl told him the man was hitting her. He got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, knowing her and t
he others were responsible for whatever trouble she was getting into. For a split second he thought of trying to help, but instead he just drove off into the frosty night and never spoke to her again.
The next day she came in with a black eye from her old man and told everyone she’d fallen down some stairs. Two days later, the trailer was gone; the father had moved away, taking the daughter in tow. It had taken Tom the better part of two years to shake the gnawing guilt and even then he was reluctant as hell to ever go near a woman again. Other than a few blind dates and well-meaning mismatches, which never seemed to lead to anything, he’d led the life of a monk.
And now here he was, a mature man, sitting across from a girl who’d been through hell, a girl not so very different from Danielle, in temper and experience, not to mention the intelligent determination behind her very female eyes.
“Tom,” Pamela exclaimed, looking genuinely puzzled. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I saw a ghost.”
“If I’m making you unhappy…” She looked ready to bolt.
“No.” His hand over hers stilled her instantly. He’d come down hard on her, almost a slap. She was straight backed now, alert.
“I don’t want you to go,” he said fiercely.
“You can’t want me to stay, either,” she sniffled. “You don’t know what I’m like.” The tear thing seemed to be catching. “I haven’t scratched the surface of how bad I am, how treacherous. I should tell you more…until you hate me. Or maybe you can just drop me somewhere.”
“I won’t hear of it.” Tom was on his feet, grabbing the bill. “I know all I need to know. And if I want to take you somewhere right now and neck like a teenager. That’s my prerogative.”
The surprise and joy on her face seemed genuine enough. Tom had little trouble leading the woman out to the parking lot and to his car. It had rained while they were inside and as his feet sprang through the shallow puddles, he felt ten years younger.
“Things are going to change,” he promised, clenching her little hand tightly in his. “I can feel it.”
Punishing Pamela Page 9