The Sex Trap
Page 8
Having no classes that afternoon until four, she parked the car in the garage, locked up, and followed the brick pathway to the back door. She opened the lock with her key and punched the code in to turn off the alarm, her thoughts preoccupied with what might be good for dinner tonight, and of a paper she had due next week in a psych class.
The door exploded open behind her, hitting the wall with such force that Miranda jumped a few inches in the air .She whirled around and saw Aaron Marberry filling the doorway to her kitchen.
“Hi, cunt! Did you miss me? Because I sure missed you…and that sweet pussy of yours!”
Miranda took a deep breath, gauging the distance from where she stood to the chef’s knife set in its butcher-block holder on the nearby kitchen counter. She glared at him, sidling toward the counter, and said, making her voice as calm and fearless as she could manage, “I’ll make you a deal, Aaron. You get the fuck out of here right now and stay away from me, and I won’t report you’re being here to the cops and get your scroungy ass thrown back in the clink, okay?”
Aaron nodded, as if thinking that offer over, and then scowled, growling, “Thaaas right nice of you, since it was you who got me tossed in the can in the first place, you bitch!”
Miranda’s eyes shot open wider but she said nothing. She moved a little closer to the knives.
“Oh, yeah! I done found out all about it, cunt,” he murmured, his malevolent eyes so full of anger at that moment that he looked as if he could chew broken glass and not feel it. “When I got out last week, I looked up an old buddy of mine from the joint who was livin’ in town, here. He was nice enough to let me stay with him and his girlfriend, who—it turns out--works down at the police station, answering the phones and filin’ and such. Just for kicks, I had her pull my file.”
Aaron stepped forward, murder in his eye. “See, she read where someone dropped a dime on me right before I got popped. Wasn’t no random cop stop, like I’d thought, my taillight just happenin’ to attract that prowl car’s attention? No, as it happens; some lying old bitch told the cops that I was the local candyman for the high school, sellin’ weed to the juvies right off campus. Gave ‘em my fuckin’ plate number and told ‘em my light was out…it was all right there in the fuckin’ file report!”
He came closer and she moved away slowly, not wanting to spook him any more than he was already, toward the counter where the knives were. The familiar smell of him--stale cigarettes, beer-breath, and old marijuana smoke along with his body odor and cheap cologne—made her stomach turn over as he got nearer to her.
“I only know one person who might do that, Randa,” he added, his eyes assuming that crazy, I’m going to kill you look that she remembered so well and still had the occasional nightmare about.
He looked around the gourmet kitchen, with its shiny, expensive toys, and nodded. Stepping right up in front of her, he muttered, “I see now why you done it. Why share with old Aaron when you could get it all for yourself, usin’ what’s between those long, pretty legs of yours?”
Glancing down, he noticed the dazzling engagement ring on her left hand, along with the spectacular tennis bracelet that she wore almost every day, and proceeded to go totally berserk.
“You fuckin’ snatch!” he bellowed, reaching for her with both hands. “We’ll see how much he wants to marry you after I tell him what a sleazy skank you really are!”
Miranda lashed out with her right foot, kicked Aaron squarely in the nuts with as much force as she could muster and then lunged for the knives. She nearly had her right hand on a big butcher knife when she felt his grip around her hair and was yanked backward.
“You’d try to stab me, you fuckin’ miserable cunt?” he screamed, slapping her across the left cheek with his open left hand.
Stars whirled around in front of Miranda’s eyes and her ears rang. She jerked her head forward, attempting to tear her hair free of his grasp, but he had her too firmly in his steely grip.
“Cunt,” he growled, knotting his left hand into a fist and hammering it into her kidney.
Pain, the like of which Miranda had never felt before, arced through her body. She gasped for breath and Aaron let go of her hair so that he could drive his right fist into her back on the other side.
She whimpered and went to her knees, unable to stand up anymore. He slapped her head hard with his open right hand, driving her headfirst into the doors below the kitchen sink. She felt his hand tighten around her hair again as she bounced off the doors, and then she was abruptly yanked to her feet once more.
“You best come with me, pussy,” he murmured in her ear, jerking her toward the dining room. “We got us some heavy-duty fuckin’ to do before I tear that pretty little head of yours off and piss down your neck hole!”
Aaron spun her around and threw a left fist into her solar plexus, stepping into it as he held her in place with his right hand’s grip on her hair. Miranda wanted to scream at the intensity of the pain, but she had no breath. He let go of her and she wobbled on her feet, her head spinning, desperately trying to get a breath. He snapped a right jab to her chin and everything went dark.
* * * *
“This here’s a real nice bed,” Aaron’s voice woke her.
She was naked, on her back, in the middle of her bed; the one she shared with Liam every night in the master bedroom. Aaron was standing next to it, naked as she was, his average-sized cock hard and throbbing as he looked down on her. She glanced over the edge of the bed and saw the nice outfit she had worn that day lying in shreds on the carpet.
Hatred so powerful that it made her shiver pulsed through Miranda. She knew in that instant what she had to do…what she was going to do.
She took mental inventory: did she really have it in her to do what she was planning?
God, I hope so, because this bastard deserves it.
Reaching somewhere deep inside herself, she attempted to re-establish contact with that brassy, sassy girl she’d been at sixteen; the one who could sidle up to a stranger in a truck stop and offer to blow him in exchange for a cross-country ride. Right now, she needed that Miranda, not the one she had worked so hard to become: her recently acquired abilities to wax erudite about variations on the concept of courtly love in Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales were not going to save her from Aaron.
“So, are you really going to fuck me?”
He grinned, grabbed his hard dick in his fist, and waggled it at her. “Don’t it look like I am?”
“Oh, okay. It’s just that I’m a little surprised by that,” she said, desperately trying to seem confident and bold. She was terrified of Aaron’s passion for violence and his truly nasty temper.
“I just got out of the can,” he glared at her. “Ain’t had no pussy in forever. Why wouldn’t I want to fuck you, you dumb bitch?”
“I just figured you might be more into the receiving end of cock nowadays, babe.”
“W-What?” he gasped, not quite believing what he’d just heard.
“You know me, sweetie,” she went on twisting the knife she’d just verbally driven into his guts. “I love a big one up the ass more than most girls…I just wondered if you’d gotten to like it too, enough to give up cunt for?”
“You fuckin’ bitch!” he screamed, finally getting what she was inferring about his manhood. “You sayin’ I took it up the ass while I was in the joint?”
“Every night, I bet.” She laughed up at him. “I can just picture you crying like a baby for those big old muscle boys to leave your poor little asshole alone, didn’t you, sugar? Or was your mouth too full of cock all the time to be able to beg much?”
Aaron screamed like a crazy man and pounced on her. She screamed as well, in terror, and tried to struggle away from him, but he held her easily in place with his strong, short body, beating her with his right fist as he pushed her down onto the bed with his left palm.
“Cunt! Whore! Miserable fuckin’ slut!” he gasped, smacking her in the gut, the tits, the face, cutting her l
ip with his hard fist.
She turned her head away, crying; braced herself for his next onslaught, and taunted him further. She hissed up at him, “That’s right; hit a defenseless woman, you pussy! A real man would be fucking me already, not beating on me, you asshole!”
Raising her battered head up off the mattress, she spat blood into his face and yelled, “I bet they fucked you in the butt until you couldn’t walk…you sawed off little man-pussy, you!”
Aaron, beside himself with rage, started choking her with both hands, he stopped after a moment and, reaching down with his right hand, centered his hard prick in her dry-as-a-bone vagina and shoved hard. She screamed as his dick tore into her, smiling inside.
That’s right, moron, she thought triumphantly while he ripped into her dry sheath. Dump a big load in me and tear my cunny up while you’re doing it! That’s what I need the rape kit to show…
* * * *
“Oh, oh, God, it’s so good!” she sighed convincingly in his ear forty minutes later, just before he came in her for the second time. “Oh, I’d forgotten what a stud you are, baby!”
Shocked by the gradual turn around in her attitude, Aaron pushed back up off her, so that he could look down at her battered, pretty face as he fucked her. She smiled, as best she could manage, through her puffy eyes and her split lip, and said, “You were always the best, babe! Your cock is like magic in my hot little puss, you know that.”
“Ohhhhhhhh! Oh, take it, you bitch!” he gasped, going off inside her again. “Goddamn, but you got a sweet cunt, Randa, you little slut!”
She groaned as if she was coming right along with him and clenched her well- trained vaginal muscles a couple of times to help convince him that she was orgasming. Holding on to his neck tight, she drove upward with her hips, draining his shriveling dick into her, moaning with faked pleasure.
“God, what a man you are, sweetie,” she whispered adoringly in his ear. “So much come for your little Randa!”
He sighed with satisfaction and pulled his now limp prick out of her juicy folds, grinning down proudly at her. Nodding his agreement to what she’d just said, he promised her, “And there’s a lot more where that came from. Like I said, I ain’t had a woman in months and months.”
She gave him what she hoped was a seductive smile, loathing this bastard with all her heart and whispered, “You up for a little ass to go along with your pussy, stud?”
Aaron beamed and winked at her, saying, “You know I am.”
She rolled over onto her side and moved slowly toward the side of the bed, her ribs, kidneys, guts…virtually everything throbbing from his earlier blows. Easing off the bed, trying not to wince too much, she turned and smiled at him eagerly.
“There’s some petroleum jelly in the bathroom of the guest bedroom, where I was sleeping when I first got here,” she told him, grinning as if she couldn’t wait to get it so that he could fuck her in the ass. “Let me get it real quick and then I’ll suck that big cock of yours real nice until it’s good and hard again and you can do me up the ass, okay, baby?”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” he smiled, rubbing his belly contentedly and leaning back onto the pillow like the lord of the manor. “Hurry up and fetch it.”
Miranda trotted naked out of the room, down the hall, right past the guest bedroom door, and down to Liam’s study. She tore open the top drawer to his desk, retrieved the small key in the pencil tray, the one that fit his gun case, and ran over to the case. Her fingers trembling with fear, she opened it, took out the double-barreled sixteen-gauge that Liam had bought for her to shoot trap with and broke it open, grabbing two shells out of the open box next to the gun.
Snapping the action closed, she thumbed both hammers back and turned around. She trotted back down the hallway and ran into the master bedroom through the open door.
Seeing the shotgun, Aaron sprung out of the bed, his hands going up in front of him defensively. He suddenly looked terrified, the whites of his eyes up above his raised hands as big as two quarters.
“Randa! Babydoll…you don’t wanna’ do this!” he pleaded.
“Wanna’ bet?” she whispered, remembering his hard, unrelenting fists on her body and her poor face earlier. “Good-bye, asshole!”
The shotgun was loaded with trap rounds, not buckshot, but she was standing close enough to Aaron that the light shot didn’t have time to spread out much before it tore into his head and upper chest. The blast from both barrels fired simultaneously lifted him off his feet and hurtled his body against the window behind it, sending it and the drapes he instinctively grabbed at spilling out the window casing and down onto the brick patio a floor below. Aaron landed in a bloody heap, swathed in the drapes, right next to Liam’s gas barbeque.
Chapter Ten
No charges were ever filed against Miranda. With the results of the physician’s exam and the state of her battered body, the district attorney declined to have her detained even for one night after the initial light questioning by the police was complete.
As a matter of fact, the cops clearly thought she was a heroine, treating her deferentially, keeping the reporters away from her, and whisking her out the back of the hospital when the examination and the doctors’ treatment and their questions were over with.
On the way home in Liam’s Jag that night, Miranda stared absently out the window, her left hand over near his pant leg, where he could reach down and hold it as they drove home. The big sedan was an automatic, so once it was in drive, he didn’t need his right hand to drive the car; he squeezed her hand lightly all the way from the hospital to home.
“We’ll sleep in the guest bedroom tonight,” he suggested, turning into their driveway. “I have people coming in the morning to replace the window in our room and repaint the wall and put up new drapes.”
“Maybe that would be best, darling,” she said softly, turning to face him. “I’ll be fine with our room as soon as it’s fixed and all of the…all of the things that will remind me of what happened are gone.”
“Of course, dear,” he patted her hand, pulling into the garage. “I’m going to have a man out tomorrow to take a look at upgrading the alarm system too, so nothing like this will ever happen again.”
She shook her head. “Don’t bother. It wasn’t the alarm’s fault. I wasn’t paying attention.”
She looked out the window and went on, adding, “He came out of nowhere—the cops said he had probably made his way up the drive while I was putting the car in the garage, and then he crouched down in the bushes around the side of the house, and when I opened the door with my key, he popped out when my back was turned and…and you know the rest.”
“I’ll have the gardeners trim those bushes back or rip them out and plant smaller ones,” Liam said.
“He would have gotten to me anyway, babe,” she said softly. “He was crazy, and he wanted to hurt me, that’s all.”
He nodded and got out of the car, coming around to her side to open the door for her and escort her into the house. She walked as though she were in a fog, the events of the day swirling around in her head.
I murdered Aaron, there’s no getting around that, she told herself bleakly, walking up the back steps to the house. But it had to be done. He was no rocket scientist, but if he hadn’t killed me, he would have eventually figured out that I’d pay anything he asked to keep him from telling Liam and the rest of my new friends about…what I was before…
Once inside the kitchen, she leaned against the counter, looking at the butcher knife in its hardwood holder. She wondered if she would have been quick enough to kill Aaron with it, had she gotten to it.
Touching her face and wincing at the pain, she thought to herself that it sure would have been less painful for her to have done it that way. Egging him on, getting the violent idiot to beat her up--so that she’d have these nice bruises and cuts to show Liam and the police and to justify her shooting him had worked--but he had sure beaten the crap out of her in the process!
She went over to a tall three-legged stool by the counter and climbed up on it. She whispered to Liam, “So I’m just going to sit here and have a nice cocktail or two and watch you fix dinner tonight and relax. I have a paper I should be working on and some reading I should do, but in view of the day I’ve had, I’m sure my teachers will understand my being a few days late with all of that.”
“They’d better.” Liam went over, and made them both a drink from the small cache of bottles he kept on a kitchen shelf for just such occasions. “Or I’ll be forced to have a word with them.”
* * * *
“God, I’m sorry, darling!” Liam apologized profusely. “What must you think of me? Getting like this after what’s happened to you today!”
Miranda laughed softly. They were lying in the guest bed, cuddling. They both had pajamas on, for a change, but Liam’s impressive cock had just risen up against the covers as she snuggled into him, her breasts up against his chest.
“I think you’re a normal man, with normal reactions, darling,” she smiled at his obvious unease at springing a boner right now, with her pussy temporarily out of commission and her lips split so badly that it had two small butterfly bandages holding the damaged surfaces together, ruling out a blowjob.
She looked up into his kind, embarrassed face and wasn’t sorry a bit that she’d killed Aaron today. She admitted to herself in that moment that she would have killed a dozen Aarons to keep Liam in the dark about her awful past sins, to keep her wonderful life with this wonderful man intact.