The Abduction of Veronica X

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  She threw her head back and gasped; the fit was tight.

  Still he fucked her there. “This what you want, hon?” he wondered aloud and sarcastically.

  Her numb mind couldn’t form a reply.

  “Is it? Tell me,” her husband insisted.

  It was do or die now. Emerson would not be dissuaded and she knew that. Still she struggled and her face screwed up in a terrible grimace, “Please, Emerson, no.”

  “But you don’t mean that, wife, do you?” His fingers continued to probe her darkness, ruthless and sure of their quest.

  “Emerson, please!”

  “No, you tell me the truth.” He pumped her ass with two fingers, the other two free to fondle her vagina. The effect brought the sensation he roused in her toward an undeniable peak.

  “Oh…gawd…” her breathing erratic and heavy, her mind nearly convinced. She was about to come in spite of herself. That is until Emerson lowered her from the edge and turned to his friends.

  “She needs a cock in her ass. How about it, Bo?”

  The man looked on in shock, although he was furtively rubbing his crotch beneath the pillow that covered his lap.

  “Don’t look so weirded out. It’s what she wants. Can’t you see it?” To Emerson it was obvious. Bent and spread over the table, Daphne’s body moved erotically on his hand, unconsciously communicating the very thing her mind fought to convey.

  “Hey, man…” Bo shook his head, as if to say, no way.

  “Tell him, honey,” Emerson whispered, with his voice turning oddly sweet. “You want Bo to fuck you in the ass, right?”

  Emerson’s fingers moved more vigorously again, short-circuiting the last of her protests with the desire he raised.

  “My wife deserves the rebuke after rebuking me. Remind her just what a slutty piece of ass she is. Come on, Bo, look at this ass. All you gotta do is stick it to her and satisfy us all.”

  Zack nudged him in the ribs, to which, Bo’s mouth then curled into a smile.

  He rose to his feet and sauntered toward the table.

  “Think of it as your revenge,” Emerson prompted him. “Ever had a wife before?” Wife was said with some disdain. But not enough to jar Daphne loose from the lust that needed its fulfillment.

  Bo half cocked his head as he looked down on the pair. His hulking body towered over Emerson’s and there was a strange, knowing look in his eye—like maybe he just wanted this over. Perhaps he wanted to placate Emerson more than he wanted to do his wife. But then, maybe he wanted to do the wife.

  Bo took the reins of Daphne’s body, as Emerson’s fingers slipped from her body and he stepped aside. Settling in behind the bobbing punished ass, Bo unzipped his pants and set free his straining cock. Taking a pink cheek in each hand, he parted the two cheeks wide showing the target of both their lust and then shoved the hard head of his dick into the puckering hole. A fat eight inches of Bo slid past her tight sphincter muscles with little effort; Emerson’s going over had seen to that.

  Daphne seethed beneath him, but that was all, at least to start.

  “Yeah, that’s it,” Emerson gloated on the sidelines. He’d stepped further away to watch.

  “Hey, Bo, fuck that sweet ass!” Zack called to him. He’d be going nowhere now.

  A man of Bo’s size could have a hard time fucking without being brutal. But he, like Daphne, like Emerson and Zack looking on, were beyond the point of gentility, or tenderness. No one wanted it sweet. They wanted to hear the woman groan, hear her screams whether from anguish or elation, and as he vigorously thrust his member into her bowels, she gave them what they wanted.

  “Oh, my, yes, yes, yes…” her voice got louder. Then she just sucked in air, before another refrain of heated exclamations began. “Ooo,” she wiggled her fanny on the fat cock, face contorting.

  The brute banged her hard. Daphne’s small body was like a doll in his hands, completely captured and under his control. She was nothing but a hole, a piece of meat, a little beast, who with every gyration sent the fucker behind her into greater spasmodic rapture. Unconscious of himself by now, his baser instincts engaged. Some bitterness toward women showed in the way he suddenly backed off from his first eager thrusts and decided to take his time—time to slap her ass until it was stinging hot again, time for his fingers to bite into her flesh, time for a hand to find a nipple beneath her torso and pinch until she winced with pain. Bo let himself free for several minutes while Daphne suffered and their tiny audience silently applauded.

  “Oh! You’re good, Bo!” Emerson was pleased in his sick sort of way. “Stick it to her harder, guy. Just think, you’re fucking your best friend’s wife.”

  Emerson seemed to take some perverse pleasure in this fact, but the comment seemed to change Bo’s spirit, as if his conscience suddenly kicked in. He stopped the fooling round, the slapping, the pinching, and focused on the fucking alone, driving his point home.

  Daphne banged against the edge of the table, controlling nothing now, but her own response to the man’s use of her ass. The table edge cut into her groin, her legs ached, her mind was as battered as her body. But all thought of rebellion had died minutes before.

  In a flash, a sudden thunder seemed to crash through the room. Bo came, groaning, thrusting, finally just holding Daphne’s hair in his one hand and her ass in the other, while great jets of cum ejaculated into her rectum.

  Wild colors floated before her closed eyes. The pain was more than pain. Her body swelled within itself, then a swoosh of sensation tore through her belly—and she experienced that other kind of come, the anal kind. The rasping pleasure took hold of her being and sent her for several minutes into a sweet and insensible bliss.

  By the time Daphne revived, Bo had withdrawn from her, leaving her dripping and the ache in her less fierce. With her legs too weak to hold her, she started to slump to the floor, but Bo caught her and handed her over to her husband, where she tried to hide inside the protection of his arms.

  “You little slut,” he whispered in her ear—just for her to hear.

  “I’m so ashamed of myself,” she whispered back.

  “Hell, there’s nothing to be ashamed of,” he reassured her. This time his voice was loud enough for the boys to hear. “Nothing to be ashamed of, is there Zack? Bo?”

  She didn’t know how Bo responded, but Zack was not one to let his feelings go unnoticed.

  “Daph, I only wish it had been me. You will do me next time, won’t you?”

  She blushed, and buried her head in Emerson’s chest, refusing to look at her voyeuring friend. Pants down, she was still an awesome sight. Although the blush on her ass had faded some, there were enough bruising marks left from the spoon to leave the evidence of the spanking for several days.

  “Hey, don’t tell me you didn’t come, that you didn’t love it. That would be a lie.” Emerson made her look at him.

  “Can I just go get cleaned up?” she asked weakly.

  “Sure, babe, just remember the facts.” His eyes narrowed. “You got that?”

  “Yes.” Her voice was small and bewildered.

  This night was the beginning of understanding. Daphne gained a greater awareness of Emerson and what it would take to please him as a wife. Although she never imagined that her life would include this kind of depravity, it really wasn’t so bad if she focused on the sexual outcome. That was something she would secretly savor.

  She would soon learn that the depravity her husband relished had just begun.

  Emerson sent her to the bedroom with a patronizing smack on the butt. Exhausted now, she sat forlornly on the bed and listened through the door, as her husband told their friends rather arrogantly, “She needed breaking in.”

  Zack replied in character, “As it should be, man. You can’t let them think they have something on you. A woman’s place is to serve.”

  He said it slightly tongue-in-cheek and they laughed at the joke. But behind the laughter was the obvious fact that Emerson and Zack took the remar
k for real.

  No one knew what Bo thought; he never did say much.

  Chapter Three

  Daphne

  Penelope was next in line to be broken in. Even Bo, good old, big-hearted, big-dicked Bo was excited about seeing our shameless girlfriend grovel for a sexual outcome in front of them all. A few weeks after I was initiated, she arrived at the Writer’s Club late. This wasn’t unusual, sort of a power struggle with Emerson. In the 60’s most women, unless they were Betty Freidan, were still too unsure of their power to buck a man when he wanted his way. We’d been trained in subservience. Oh, we could argue points, but we were normally the ones who acquiesced in the end. Perhaps a wife could wheedle her way around her husband, but I was too young then, too fresh and too much in awe of Emerson to do any wheedling.

  I knew when Penelope arrived ten minutes after the hour that Emerson would jump right on her; he’d been in a pissy mood all day, so I’d deliberately stayed clear of him. I’d hope that Penny would have the good sense to put her prima donna persona aside and apologize for being tardy. I knew Emerson was tired of her bitchy attitude.

  Unfortunately, Penelope being Penelope had little problem tangling with men. As if expecting a confrontation, she stood, hands on hips in front of him and stared him down like I never could.

  ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ She pointed her finger in his direction like an enraged mother.

  I was planning a retreat that very instant, not wanting to get in the middle of the fireworks. But that would have pissed Emerson off even more.

  He walked right up close to Penny, going eye to eye, the big blue color staring into her cinnamon brown. He smiled, which surprised us all. What was behind the smile wasn’t so sweet, however, as if he had it all planned in advance, he nodded at Zack who came up to her from behind—poor Kathy Ann could hardly stay in her seat. She was horribly jealous and almost in a panic—but she did stay put, since she wasn’t about to leave while Zack was playing with her competition.

  Zack reached for Penny’s hands and clamped them in a pair of handcuffs. Obviously, the move was a shock.

  ‘If you scream, you’ll be gagged,’ Emerson informed her.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she shouted, trying to wriggle away.

  ‘Call it the Writer’s Club initiation, darling; Daphne had hers a few weeks back. I suppose she told you about it.’

  ‘She told me nothing,’ Penny sputtered. My, she was livid. Surprisingly, she did little to struggle free—not that it would have done much good. She looked at me accusingly.

  I had to shrug. I knew I’d be in big trouble with Emerson if I made any objection—my own feminist arguments had been shot down with a firm rebuke—and much more. And by then, I could feel the heat between my legs rising. The body memory of my own initiation was having a field day with my present lust. Although she was a friend, Penelope was the kind of woman other women like to see taken down. Maybe that’s what kept Kathy Ann from making trouble; she probably enjoyed it as much as anyone.

  ‘She told you nothing? Really?’

  Emerson looked at me. ‘Tell her, wife.’

  I didn’t dare not. For the next few minutes, she heard the gruesome details of my initiation, while staring at me wide-eyed. Meanwhile, Zack unzipped her skirt and pulled it to the floor. His hand was in her crotch from behind, while Emerson’s began assaulting her in front. I don’t know what made her go from livid to limp and wanting, but she was there in seconds. Faster than I had been. She always said she had a quick trigger when it came to getting off and this small stimulation was all she seemed to need.

  Sadie

  She what? Orgasmed just like that?

  Daphne

  No, it wasn’t that easy, or that quick. But she would have been there any second. While Emerson kept her physically involved, Zack managed to undo the handcuffs and cuff her from the front. Then Emerson strung her up to a plant hook in the ceiling. The two then stripped her down as much as possible and continued to play with her until she was on the verge of letting go. She’d struggle, you know, grunt and groan as if she should be hating it. But you could tell what she wanted. I think it even became a show for her; she let those of us who were looking on see what a slut she could be. Not that we didn’t already know; she was damned proud of herself as a sexual tease.

  The big surprise was the finale when Bo got up and lumbered toward her. Her eyes were closed so she didn’t know he was even there—I’m sure she was dreaming of Zack. But to her eventual surprise, Bo stuffed her from the front while Emerson took her from the rear. She was squealing when she opened her eye to see what was going on. But if she squealed too much, Emerson slapped her ass real hard. Oh, the energy between them was savage, and it kept changing. She’d resist and Emerson would drive her hard. Then she’d relent and Bo would suddenly turn brutal. She’d switch again, hating the way they molded her desire for their use. One minute she loved the fuck; the next she would have slapped their faces.

  The two both got off in her, while her body danced like a puppet’s, pulled from one orgasm to the next. She was ‘goddamming’ for at least ten minutes. So much, I thought the neighbors would be banging on the doors to keep it down. I guess they were away that night. Her voice drops almost as if she’s out of breath.

  Then she just hung there. Every spark of sass had been whipped from her body. I can still see it. Her little white blouse unbuttoned and dangling to the sides, her pink bra pushed up over her breasts, making them look strangely distorted, while the buds, the nipples were still red from being twisted and pinched. They glared into the room as remnants of her spent anger. She was naked the rest of the way down with sweat dripping from between her legs and down her flushed face.

  Emerson looked at me and saw the desire in my eyes. ‘Go on,’ he said, ‘clean up her crotch with your tongue.’ There was no argument in me. This seemed like the only thing to do. So there was I was, slavishly dousing my face in the combined juices of Bo, Penelope, and my husband, drinking their fervor into me and making it mine. Penny got off again on my tongue, while my face was washed with her cum. Then a hand was in my crotch, where someone knelt behind me. I purposely didn’t look back. I don’t know if I was afraid. I hoped it was Emerson, but feared it was not. I kept working Penny, more zealously than I suppose I’d planned—all because of the hand that was forcing my cum from me. I grunted like a little beast, for the second time indicted by my own degeneracy. ‘Cum, wife.’ It was Emerson’s voice; turning his words into an order I was forced to obey, or else. That brought its own shiver. I know sometimes I believed I was controlled by a madman, but I loved the feel of his domination; it bit into my psyche, into the core of it where these base desires still linger.

  I was not exactly jealous of Emerson’s attention to other women, but I was scared of him, and how easily he could shame me.

  She sighs and sinks back in her chair after some seconds

  Sadie sounding breathless as she continues with the next obvious question

  You intimated that Kathy Ann also had an initiation of the same sort?

  Daphne

  An initiation, yes. But not exactly like mine and Penelope’s. No one thought that Kathy Ann would stay in the club long enough to get her session with the boys. She always seemed one step away from complete hysteria. But after stripping Penelope of her haughty disposition, at least for that one night, the three men had forged a silent pact that would define the nature of their relationship with the women of the Writer’s Club—no matter who they were. They weren’t about to let Kathy Ann come along for the ride without her own show of barefaced lust. Zack, knowing his power over her, used that power well, getting in his vile night of debauchery without her hardly realizing that it happened—until too late.

  The night began with some hard drinking and a couple of joints. Normally Emerson rejected drugs or even alcohol as a cop-out to serious creativity, but then he’d get high and all his fancy ideas would fly right out the window. We were giggly drunk, st
umbling into the woods. Emerson was all over me, and kissing Penny. Kathy Ann was really tight with Zack and loving it. She was radiant that night with her flawless skin and a mane of long brown hair glowing in the moonlight. She was dreamy and sweet with the most charming smile when she wasn’t wracked by jealousy. You might call her plump now, but then she was simply voluptuous, with the kind of curvaceous form and flesh you want to dive inside.

  No one paid much attention to what was happening between Zack and Kathy Ann, until she started to squeal like stuck pig. He had her pinned to a tree, making out, heavy petting, hands everywhere while she laughed and winced, and tried, though not very convincingly, to push him off. She loved every second of his attention, and right in front of us, in front of Penny especially. She always worried that Penny wanted Zack, but that was utterly ridiculous—Zack more than once referred to Penelope as a ball-busting bitch.

  That night in the woods, as Zack had Kathy Ann pinned to the tree, he started stripping off her clothes, and she started to scream. He slapped her face to shut her up, warning her. Not slapping real hard, but enough to put her on notice. She looked stricken at first. Her eyes filled with tears, then her lips broke into a devilish smile as her body began to move with obvious arousal. Zack wasn’t content until he stripped her naked. I remember still how her white skin stood out like a light inside the dark woods. Emerson and Bo moved in on either side of her and pulled her hands behind her, roping them behind a tree. For a time, Zack was very gentle with her. He ran a calming hand through her hair, then leaned in to her lips as if to kiss away her fear. ‘Nothing’s gonna happen to you, baby, that you won’t love.’

  Zack could be most persuasive.

  The tree was prickly behind her, enough to leave deep scratches in her milky flesh.

  Then Zack brought out this hulky dildo—I have no idea where he got it. He made her lick the surface wet before he shoved it into her cunt. She seemed to faint right then with pleasure. Desire she couldn’t stave off took the reins of her body and rode her hard from there. Zack was with her the entire time, for the most part soothing her with his hands and loving words, but even so, her initiation was probably the toughest of the three.