“Oh, Susanna, don’t you cry for me,” Stone sang out at her, surprising himself, both by the cruelty of his jest and the degree that he had shed his inhibitions. Before tonight, he had never sung aloud to another person. Finding himself capable of singing was more surprising than finding himself capable of rape.
She did not reply.
“You had enough, yet?” he asked.
She shook her head resolutely and whispered, “More.”
“More?”
“I can take more,” she replied. “I can take whatever you can do to me.” She was confident that he could not achieve another erection this soon after sodomizing her, but was determined that he would rape her again as soon as he was able. She only hoped that he was finished with her back door – getting fucked up the asshole a second time tonight would break her. But if he forced her, she would allow herself to be broken, regardless. She would never ask for mercy and, as the evening progressed, he was slipping into the role that she had assigned to him. His reluctance to use force was rapidly evaporating.
When she challenged him to continue abusing her, she failed to realize that he did not have to be erect to take pleasure from her.
“Get over here,” he ordered.
She did not move. “Make me,” she whispered.
“As you wish.” She heard the creak of a chair as he rose, then his footsteps on the tile floor. She saw his slipper-clad right foot step in front of her face. Some distant part of her mind noted that he wore slippers at home, even when he was sodomizing a virgin. How ironically civilized. Chair legs scraped across the floor and wood creaked as he re-seated himself at her head.
“Get up here,” he snarled, but did not wait for her to obey. He grabbed her hair at the side of her head and pulled her up to his waist. She grabbed at his wrist and scrambled to her knees, only to reduce the pain from being pulled by the hair, not because she wanted to help him. He pressed her face into his crotch. His pants and boxers were nowhere to be seen. She did not know if he had removed them before he had sodomized her or afterward. He said, “Lick me. Suck me clean,” as he pressed her mouth against his limp, dirty cock.
She was repelled by the olio of margarine, semen, and blood that was pressing against her lips. There was probably shit mixed in, too, but she could neither taste nor smell any evidence of it and was glad that she had thought to evacuate her bowel and wash herself before coming here, in anticipation of what would be done to her.
She would have told him to “make her” again, but realized that he could only force her to use her mouth by beating her into submission. Unlike her cunt and asshole, a mouth could not be used without cooperation. A real rapist could use the threat of severe bodily harm or death to force cooperation, Stone could not. She would only have her mouth penetrated if she allowed it.
It was time for her to prove to him that she had been sincere when she had given him access to her entire body to be used as he wished. She told herself that cooperation at this point would not be considered fornication. Really, this was just an extension of the anal rape. It helped that it was happening almost immediately after.
But that logic did not make the act any easier. She reluctantly pushed her tongue against his limp dick and gave it a little lick. His dick tasted as bad as it smelled. She suppressed a gag.
“You can do better than that. I want to see a little gusto here. Some genuine enthusiasm.” He released her hair to give her freedom of movement.
She wet her tongue and licked again. And then again. As she licked the wrinkled skin on the underside, she was licking it clean. As she licked the nauseating taste away, she found his cock more palatable. When she moved to the side, his limp dick flopped away from her oral ministrations, so she had to reach up and grab it with her hand to steady it.
She had never held a man’s cock in her hand before and she took a little time to explore him with her fingers. When she pushed his foreskin back, she uncovered the head and went to work on it with as much enthusiasm as she could muster; there was a ridge around the head and a depression on the other side that had collected more material than anywhere else. She forced herself to suck it clean, swallowing every chunky little crumb of drying cum and coagulating blood.
This was more nauseating than anything that she could have imagined. This was the epitome of degeneracy. This was the degradation that offended her sensibilities beyond description. This was exactly what she desired.
When she had cleaned him as much as possible, she tipped her head back and looked up at his foul face, leering down at her.
“That feels good. Don’t stop until I tell you to.” He pushed her head back into his crotch. She began licking and sucking again.
And a miracle happened. Though it had been less than ten minutes since he had finished plowing her asshole, he began to swell again.
As she continued sucking valiantly, he grew hard. His cock engorged with fresh blood until it filled her mouth completely. She had to stretch her jaw wide to admit him at all; she could only fit the head and first inch of his shaft into her mouth without gagging.
He did not care; with his hands still on the back of her head, he pushed her hard onto him.
When he forced his cock so far that the head pressed against the back of her throat, she began to gag again. This was not the disgusted gagging caused by a bad taste, but was a hard-wired physiological reflex that she could not repress. But when she gagged and heaved against him, he was only stimulated more and forced himself deeper into her throat. He snarled, “Swallow me and keep swallowing.” She forced her throat to make swallowing motions, but it only helped slightly. Now he wrapped both hands in her hair again and began lunging in and out of her mouth in a steady rhythm by raising his hips out of the chair and yanking her head down on him at the same time. She gasped for air on the out strokes and gagged uncontrollably on the in strokes. She feared that she was going to choke to death; if not directly by his cock blocking her airway, then indirectly by vomiting and being forced to aspirate it. Having her virginity torn away by force had been devastating, having her asshole raped had been excruciating, but having her mouth raped was life-threatening.
She struggled against him, but he was relentless. She tried to gain her feet, but he held her down. She pounded his legs with her fists but he did not care. She choked and screamed and cried and he kept thrusting into her over and over for so long that she was beginning to lose consciousness. Finally, mercifully, he managed to come into her throat. He arched his back, screamed, ground her head into his crotch, and dribbled thin watery jism into her throat in a series of weak contractions. Cumming for the third time in less than two hours was hardly a cataclysmic event; she had licked more semen off his cock after her ass-fucking than she was getting injected into her mouth now.
But it was still an orgasm. It still counted. Her mouth was virgin no longer; she had been fully abused in every orifice. She had already passed the basic milestone and still had more than twelve hours to accumulate as much additional abuse as possible.
He released her head and she fell back to the floor, gasping for air.
She felt so bad in every way, physically and emotionally, that she was astounded to hear the man looming over her say, quietly and sincerely, “You are so good.”
She whispered, “More.”
He laughed aloud. “Not until we’ve both had some rest. Come on up to bed.”
“Make me,” she whispered.
“Yeah, right,” he chuckled and reached down to give her a hand and pull her to her feet.
When she stood, he looked down at her, naked from the waist up and commented, “Before you leave tomorrow, we’re going to have to do something with your tits. They’re too amazing to ignore.”
She looked down at her naked chest. She had good tits. She was proud of them and used them to attract male television viewers and hold their attention. She knew exactly how the right blouse and bra would look modest and chaste but subtly make her tits thrust forward in perfect
definition; how she could stand and walk so that her tits would move and heave with promises that would never be fulfilled. She could hypnotize a man with her tits and break his heart in two. But she had no idea how her tits could be used to give sexual gratification to a man.
“Take off the rest of your clothes. I want to enjoy your beauty.”
She shrugged. “If you want them off, you can tear them off. Nobody is stopping you.” Her voice was banal, matter of fact; she was too tired of being brutalized to care about a little thing like being naked.
He grabbed her waistband and yanked it apart. Her hips jerked toward him from the force of his action. Two buttons went spinning across the room, a seam parted with a loud tear, and he was left holding the ruins of her skirt. She was left with her golden bush framed by the straps of her white garter belt.
He gave her garter belt the same treatment, then pushed her stockings down to her ankles, one at a time, letting his hand caress the length of each leg.
She had to step out of the feet of the stockings to render herself completely nude for his lecherous inspection.
It was the first time in her life that she had ever been nude in the presence of a man. Even as an infant, her father had stayed out of the room when her mother had bathed and changed her. She realized, wryly, that she had been fucked and sodomized before any man had seen her naked body. This was not the traditional order of events in a young woman’s maturation.
Stone spent a long time looking at her before he finally led her upstairs. She was more beautiful in person than she had been in his imagination. That she was forcing him to despoil her only made her that much more beautiful in his eyes.
Every part of her ached as she followed him up the staircase to his bedroom. Not only was her vulva bruised, her anus abraded, and her jaw stiff, but the muscles in her back, legs and arms had been stretched and strained. She felt the drying fluids caked on her inner thighs and the margarine streaked through the hair on the left side of her head. She wanted to spend an hour soaking in a warm tub. She wanted it so badly that she would take satisfaction in denying herself the pleasure if it were offered. She would allow herself no relief of any kind until noon tomorrow when her ordeal was over.
She need not have worried – Stone offered nothing. He merely escorted her to his bed, shucked his shirt and socks, crawled between the sheets, and rolled over, leaving her to tuck herself into the other side. She had told him to be selfish and he was following her instructions to the letter.
Judging by the change in his breathing, he fell asleep within minutes. Despite her pain, despite her unfamiliarity with her surroundings, despite her mistrust of the man that she was permitting to abuse her, physical and emotional exhaustion soon took her into the same place.
Susanna was awakened by someone pushing on her shoulder. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar darkness and she was disoriented for a minute, not remembering where she was. She became aware of the pain throbbing in her ass from its violation first and then she became aware that Stone waking her up. “What’s wrong?” she mumbled.
“Nothing’s wrong. I've got a stiffy and you’re going to take care of it.”
“What?” she asked, still half asleep.
“Roll over and get on your knees, head down.”
“What?” The green glow of the numerals on the digital clock said 3:30. No wonder it was still dark.
“Come on. We don’t have all night.”
Actually, she thought as she began to clear the sleep from her head, we do have all night. All night is exactly what we’ve got. She did not want to be raped again. Except, she thought, getting raped again is exactly what I want. I begged for this. So she rolled over, tucked her knees under her hips and raised her sore ass high in the air.
As soon as she felt the fresh sting of cool air on her abused asshole, she thought, It’s my ass. He’s going to rape my poor asshole again. I don’t think I can take it.
But he left her asshole alone. He forced her legs apart wide so that he could kneel between them, and, without ceremony, thrust his stiff cock into her cunt. The raw edges of her torn hymen were painfully sensitive, but that was not the worst. There was some moisture still in her from the previous evening’s fuck fest, but she was not lubricated well enough to accommodate his cock comfortably. It felt like he was rubbing her inside raw when he began pulling out and slamming back into her as deeply as he could.
She bunched the corner of her pillow into her mouth and chewed on it to keep from screaming.
After a couple of minutes of lunging and pounding, she had secreted enough lubrication to give her some ease.
She laid her head on the sheets and let herself be used. What did it matter? What was a little doggy-style fucking after her asshole had been ripped out to a new size and her tonsils roto-rootered last night?
Eventually, he pulsed, squirted, withdrew, turned out the lights, and went back to sleep. He had not said a single word to her after ordering her to present her rump to him. Now, lying in the dark, his cum again leaking from between her cunt lips, she understood that a new humiliation had been added to her account. Being used as nothing more than a convenient hole without the slightest acknowledgement of her humanity was more degrading than anything she had yet experienced.
* * *
Things looked different in the morning light. She awoke in an empty bed to bright sunlight and the smell of bacon and eggs.
Her crotch was too sore, front and back, to walk with any grace. She waddled to the on-suite bath, relieved her bladder, and drank deeply directly from the faucet. She did not wash herself. Looking in the mirror, she was satisfied to see that she looked as bad as she felt. Her hair was a tangled, greasy mess from sweat and butter; her eyes were red and puffy from crying; her face was streaked with dirt from lying on floors. Looking down at herself, she could see the dried blood crusted between her legs. From head to foot, she looked like a woman who had been abused beyond her limits. Soap and water were out of the question; they would destroy the mask that she had endured so much pain and humiliation to acquire. A clock in the bathroom said that it was almost ten, so she had to endure this for only two more hours.
She would use the remaining hours of her ordeal to good advantage.
In the movies, a woman always wraps a sheet about her to preserve her modesty when she gets out of bed. Real women disdain such foolish artifice. She limped down stairs, naked as a babe, to find that Stone had folded and stacked her ruined clothes, shoes on top, next to her overnight bag.
Stone looked cheerful as he buttered toast. When he saw her, he said, “There’s a robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. You can wear that after you clean yourself up. I’ll keep your breakfast warm until you get back.”
“No sense putting on a robe if I just have to take it off again right away,” she croaked.
“Why would you have to take it off again?” His voice conveyed genuine puzzlement.
“It’s easier to rape me if I’m naked, isn’t it?”
“You can’t want more.” He sounded dismayed.
“I want more. It’s not noon yet.”
“I’m too tired,” he admitted.
“So what? I’ll do whatever I have to do to get you aroused again.” She put her hands under her breasts and lifted them slightly. “You said that you wanted to use my tits. How would you do that?”
He looked at the lovely young round tits that she was offering to him and sighed. “I would spread lubricant on them, maybe baby oil or K-Y jelly, or even cooking oil if that’s all I had. You would press them together to form a cleavage and I’d rub my penis between them until I ejaculated. If I were fresh enough, I might be able to ejaculate hard enough to hit your face.”
“Okay. You got any baby oil?”
“No. I can’t do that. I’m worn out after everything we did last night. Your breasts are beautiful enough to make me weak with desire, but tit-fucking wouldn’t give me enough stimulation to get me off this morning. If we had starte
d out with that last night, there would have been no problem, but not now.”
That was a problem. If he needed strong stimulation this morning, then she would have to take him up her ass again; that was her tightest hole. Her asshole ached when she thought about being penetrated there again, but she would do it anyway. She would endure anything for the greater glory of God. “Well, you’re going to have to rape me at least once more before I leave. One for the road, so to speak.”
“I might manage that if you really want it.”
“I do.” Her aching body did not want to be touched again, but she had needs that her body did not understand.
“Well, then, you better eat a good breakfast because you’ll need your strength.”
“I already have all the strength that I need. But you go ahead.” She smiled grimly. “I need you to be as strong as you can be.”
He raised an eyebrow. The woman was a glutton for punishment.
As she watched him eat, her mouth watered. It wouldn’t hurt to eat just one egg and a couple of rashers of bacon. Then she reminded herself that that was exactly the point. Depriving herself of food would hurt and that was her goal. When she left the house, she would look like she was hurting because she really would be. Her exit was too important for her to trust her acting skills, even as experienced on the stage as she was. She would deliver the real goods.
Between bites, Stone wanted to talk. “I’ve been trying to understand you. Why are you doing this?”
“Not eating?”
“This whole thing. Coming here, letting me have sex with you. No, not just letting me have sex, forcing me to use you as crudely as possible. Is this your idea of an S and M game? Is this fulfilling some kind of fantasy for you? Losing your virginity in the worst possible way?”
She nodded. “I’m a masochist. Surely that’s obvious to you. I’ve fantasized about being hurt and abused since I was a child. This is as much abuse as I can take in reality, but in my fantasies, I’ve been tortured to death in more horrible ways than you could possibly imagine. But you should have expected that. I was raised as a religious fundamentalist.”
Punish Me, Please Me Page 4