After he revived a bit, he had us kiss, orchestrating a long girl-on-girl exhibition that he orchestrated, until he finally recovered enough to get hard again. Anna and I finished the evening on our knees in front of Jon, taking turns sucking him off until he shot all over our faces and naked breasts. He made us lick each other clean with every drop of cum swallowed.
When Jon was done with her, he shooed her off, and she was gone as quickly as the waiter was gone the night before. I didn’t like the way he could use people and then dismiss them so easily, but I knew that Jon would just dismiss my objections if I complained. I knew what kind of man he was, and could have left him any time.
***
The wedding was getting closer, just a few weeks away and tensions were mounting in the entire family. I know I was nervous with the ‘big day’ becoming far more complicated than I would have ever wanted. But who was I to screw with Beverly’s painstaking preparations? I can’t say that Jon was nervous; he would never show that kind of emotion, but his temper had been flaring more than normal.
When I met him at his office just as the rest of the company was going home for the evening, I wasn’t at all surprised that he wanted a quickie before we took off to find something to eat. It was almost expected anymore that sex came before anything else. If it settled his ruffled feathers I was happy to accommodate his need.
What I hadn’t foreseen that afternoon were the two men joining us for the raunchy party, or how Jon, instead of actively participating in the scene, was content to sit back and watch as I was mauled by his companions.
Both were young and buff, one a Latino with a thick cock, the other a light-skinned black man who had hands as smooth as silk. I’d only been in the office for a minute and was waiting for Jon to end a phone conversation, when these two strangers, who had been sitting in Jon’s easy chairs, got up and began running their hands over my body.
I looked at Jon in horror and he just smiled, nodding to indicate this was exactly what he planned. He never said another word as he let them have their way with me. Quickly drawn into their sexy bodies with my hands relishing their youthful muscles and rock hard pricks, I became lost in my own arousal. Their mouths devoured me with a thousand kisses down my back and on my lips, then a pair of lips latching on to the bud of my clitoris brought me to my first orgasm of the evening.
I lay my head back and opened my mouth for a silent scream. I was still aware enough to know that the office outside was not yet empty at that hour.
Although an hour later, I’m not sure if I cared who heard my sensual screams.
It might have been after that first orgasm that I noticed the camera in Jon’s hand, and my fiancé rapidly taking digital images of me with my two young lovers.
My first thought was sheer panic.
“Jon, please,” I gasped and I tried to pull away from the pair.
“C’mon Kristen, it’s no big deal. We’ll look at them later, a little keepsake of the evening. You really are hot.”
The guys paid no attention to my conversation with Jon and just kept on playing with me until even I couldn’t find another excuse for not relinquishing myself to the moment.
Jon continued with the photographs and I got taken to the edge of getting off again. They held me there, teetering on the brink of orgasm, one man’s fingers in my vagina, the other man on the floor, spreading my bottom wide and tonguing my ass. They kept me there for sometime, both being skillful enough to read my body and back off if they thought I was about to explode.
I confess, the fact that Jon was just a few feet away from us clicking off one image after another with his camera provided another level of excitement I’d not yet experienced. Sooo wicked, I thought. What if he posted them to the Internet, let the whole world see what a raunchy slut I was? Even that excited me.
In the back of my mind, I knew he wouldn’t dare do anything that depraved; he had too much to lose. But just the idea was enough to arouse me, an idea I couldn’t shake the entire time the guys were bringing me to orgasm. I had at least three shattering climaxes exploding through my body. Finally, I was too exhausted to stay on my feet and the three of us collapsed to the floor, continuing what had already turned into one heated sexual brawl. My ass was smacked, my nipples pinched, my breasts mauled, though any pain was just another aphrodisiac to send my arousal higher. When the two began fucking me they held nothing back, taking my mouth, my ass, my cunt, then exchanging places and continuing on as if there might be no end in sight.
At some point, Jon stripped off his clothes and joined us; I suppose his friends were getting tired and their testosterone dipping a little low, so he took over until they revived.
The night ended with me lying back on his smooth black coffee table, getting my pussy banged by Jon while my mouth serviced our black friend’s erection one last time.
The young studs eventually slipped out of the office and left Jon and me to ourselves. I remember finally rising from the coffee table and moving toward my fiancé who was recuperating on the sofa. Even though I felt completely drained, I gave him a languid lap dance, while smiling down at his contented face – a look so rare that I couldn’t resist its appeal. As my bottom moved slowly against his groin, his weighty cock began to stir again.
“You think you have it in you?” I challenged him, smiling wickedly.
“We’ll see.”
Only minutes later he had me by the hips with another raging erection deep inside my pussy, soon pounding me with nearly as much fury as we earlier had. This time, with the fucking over, we collapsed together and stayed there until we’d both recovered.
Just ten days before the wedding, those hours of sexual abandon were ones I treasured. Rather than be ashamed of my wanton lust, I tore a page from Jon’s primer on dealing with his wealthy parentage and let it be a way to thumb my nose at those prissy New Englanders. I thought he loved me for matching his depravity, that this was where we came together best. At twenty-one, it seemed enough on which to base a relationship. But what did I know at twenty-one?
“So, a little tension reliever?” I joked as my body was beginning to stir again.
“Did it work?” he asked.
“Oh, I think so.”
“You hungry?” he popped up from the sofa and searched for his clothes while I was getting dressed.
“I’m famished.”
Nothing more was said about the event. We might have snickered a little, cast a few knowing glances at each other from time to time in the next couple of days, but the heavy session of rollicking sex had done as Jon planned, smoothing out the rough edges of our emotions so we could get through the impossible week that lay ahead.
At least that was the illusion we shared until our wedding day.
***
It took some time before I realized how many times I gave in to Jon’s opinions just to keep him from getting edgy and out of sorts. In fact, it really didn’t dawn on me all that clearly until the day of our wedding that I’d completely submerged myself in him. My unrest had been rumbling around me for some days once the soothing effect of the raunchy gangbang in his office had worn off. I became increasingly sensitive to all of my fiancé’s faults. Every time I listened to one of his catty retorts, or saw him level a mean putdown on one of the servants, or demeaningly dismiss his mother, it pushed me a little further away from him – if not physically, then emotionally. Over the course of those final days before the wedding as the family scurried around making the preparations the distance became that much greater.
Unfortunately, I didn’t have much opportunity to think about my concerns until I finally found myself alone on my wedding day in the guesthouse, staring out to the lawn. The Ryder gardens were elegantly dressed up with baskets of flowers, topiaries, white ribbons and a beautiful arbor under which Jon and I would say our vows. And there I was dressed for the occasion in a handmade Armani wedding gown with a big bouffant skirt, a long train and my red hair styled with the beautiful tiara of sparkling diam
onds, making me appear like a fairy queen rather than a real girl.
When I turned from the window, I saw my nosegay of flowers sitting on the couch waiting for me to pick it up and walk out toward my future. This was a pivotal moment in my life, everything would change once the next hour was over. When I pressed my nose into the fragrant pink and white roses, drawing in the wondrous scent, everything looked perfect for that brief moment. But looks can be deceiving. With nothing and no one to interrupt my casually wandering mind, I found the agitation that had been with me for days start to speak. Since early morning when I awoke, I thought the feelings were just wedding jitters and I determinedly pushed them aside. But suddenly, like a pushy old broad, my psyche refused to be ignored any longer. The many instances of Jon’s bad behavior started traipsing through my mind in a lengthy procession of cutting snipes, rude comments and offensive thoughts that he found necessary to speak aloud. It was bad enough what he spewed out on other people, but what was vented on me cut deep.
I might have kidded myself that this was just his natural temperament and it really wasn’t all that bad. But I also knew that he wasn’t going to stop, and the chance that it would get worse would only increase once we were married. Simple common sense told me that there was no way to remake a man’s character once it had been ingrained for so many years.
I’ve always had a fertile mind where all sorts of possibilities seem to materialize before my eyes; even if they are just visions, they seem painfully real. If Jon was this harsh, belittling and cynical now, what would he be like in a year or two? The horror of my vision rose up like a deadly stench and I practically doubled up, choking on the fury with which it suddenly invaded every part of me. I grabbed the window frame to keep from toppling over, and finally took several deep breaths to gather my wits again. The nosegay had fallen to the floor and for some moments I stared at it, waiting to decide if I would pick it up. I waited motionless, my mind had seemed to vacate my body as the next few minutes ticked by.
Then something outside the guesthouse finally startled me into action, and I knew that I had just a few minutes left before I was to walk out and greet the man who would escort me down the aisle. The string quartet was already playing the wedding music and the bridesmaids were lining up ready to walk down the aisle. Fifteen minutes before, I’d asked for a moment alone and they graciously left me to myself. All this meant that I had very little time to disentangle myself from a nightmare, but I did have time. I still had a choice. I wasn’t married yet.
As soon as the soloist began to sing, I kicked into high gear, quickly shedding the Armani wedding gown and tossing on a t-shirt and sweats. I stopped my hasty retreat just long enough to scribble a note, which I left on the small desk in the corner. It wouldn’t be the first thing one would see coming into the room, but it would eventually be found.
“Jon, you don’t want to marry me. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it until now. But I’m really not the woman you want to share your life with. So sorry, Kristen.”
My last dramatic act was to place the nosegay on the pink-scented paper, then with panic gripping me in the gut, I tore out of the guesthouse, glad that my car was parked just a few feet away. That made my escape easy. The car zoomed out of the drive, taking a sharp right down the back entrance to the estate, and avoiding the main drive where I was certain to be noticed. I tried to erase from my mind any thoughts about what happened next. Who came to look for me and found me gone…the look on Jon’s face…would there be shame? A blush of embarrassment? No, I imagine that once it was clear that his fiancée had left, he would stalk off in a quiet rage and remain conveniently indisposed until the titillating truth of my rejection had percolated through his society and some other scandal took its place in the forefront of everyone’s mind.
In the days following my hurried exit from the wedding, I spent a good deal of time speculating how Jon would handle what was certain to have been a surprising blow. Because I heard nothing from him, nor from anyone in the Ryder clan, I assumed they all went about their well-heeled lives with little strain. I was a little surprised that I wasn’t questioned about the tiara that fled with me, though after a few days, I sent it back special delivery. No telling what it might have been worth.
I knew Jon would recoup from the blow – if it was a blow at all. He never fell far, he wouldn’t let himself, so he would certainly bounce back easily. I even banked on the hope that he would have seen the wisdom of my choice. I doubt a man like him could ever be reigned in. Once he felt the freedom he was sure to have missed as a married man, he would continue doing what he did so well – pick up women and take them off to bed.
Those first few days Jon was on my mind a lot as I spent every waking hour in the library, keeping out of sight, and out of cell phone range, so that any temptation to call him could be easily dismissed. Later, after a few weeks passed, thoughts of Jon took a backseat to other matters – like starting law school in the fall and finding a way to cover my expenses. I’d gone from being filthy rich back to dirt poor, and it took a little adjusting. But I believed I could handle that; I had before. Plus, I was a lot more comfortable scraping by. Sometimes I would think of Jon and wonder if I’d made the right choice. But every time I worked that question over in my mind, I came up with the same conclusion: it was the most right thing I’d ever done – even if that decision would haunt me for months.
For all my private musings about my months with Jon, about his character, about the nature of our relationship and the decision to leave him at the alter, not once did I ever imagine that he wouldn’t fully recover. Never once did I think he wasn’t capable of letting me go. Never once did I imagine that Jon Ryder would be out for revenge.
Chapter Three
I thank the demands of law school for keeping me sane in the months after the rape in the woods. Pushing away the feelings had become a constant battle. I was thankful too that I’d been blindfolded for there were no images of the men and the forced sex to filter into my thoughts, although there were still plenty of sensations, the memory of their voices, the touch of their hands, and the recollection of how that touch frightened and condemned me, given the way my body responded. This was certainly enough to deal with. The photograph left at the scene and its terrifying meaning still haunted me. Every day I wondered about Jon Ryder – assuming it was Jon who arranged my imprisonment.
I may never have believed he’d do anything as insane as arrange that rape, but it was certainly not beyond the character of the man I was about to marry, not the far reaches of his twisted psyche. With a little distance from him, I got scared just thinking of what he might have made me do. How far would he have gone to find his pleasure? The adrenalin rush we loved to revel in was a terrific high but where would it have ended – obviously, I had my answer: In a woodsy cabin held captive and taken against my will.
I still didn’t know if the pictures of my night of fornication had been tossed up on the Internet, a thousand me’s traveling through cyberspace in all the permutations of that outrageous sexual incident in his office. It was a frightening prospect, at the same time, it actually turned me on in a perverted sort of way, although I’m not so sure it would have set well with the law school board of trustees or a future employer. I let my imaginings of that slide, but a healthy fear of Jon Ryder remained with me. A wariness I could not afford to lose.
Even as the months went by and I heard nothing from him, he was still like a little demon pecking at my ear, appearing in dreams – nightmares, actually – or sometimes a fleeting shadow that disappeared around the corner. At least law school took me to another city. I kept telling myself that he was surely on to other things. But was I on to other things?
The beat of that terrifying lust still took me away in flights of fantasy and moonlight masturbations in my bed. Times like that, I couldn’t get away from the man. On the darkest, most demeaning nights of my mental depravity I went so far as to imagine myself going to him, falling to my knees and begging him to ta
ke me back just so he would punish me for my sins and make me his slut again. Much as I deplored thoughts like these, they returned, again and again and again.
Even if Jon Ryder were completely through with me, I was not through with him.
What I did to protect myself from my own lurking demons was to dive into my class work, smother myself in the law. I even took a job as a legal secretary so my submersion in the law would be complete. I made my days as busy as I could make them, hoping that eventually the constant fear would pass away.
Weeks, months passed. A year went by, then eighteen months. I actually began to feel
free again with the shadow that followed me less distinct with each passing day. I even got tired of masturbating to those scenes of the cabin, the office and Jon Ryder, and allowed my fantasies the opportunity to roam in other directions. I even accepted a few dates with harmless men my age, although anyone that looked the least bit off center I refused. Older men were strictly off limits. The young ones I was sure I could handle, but any man over twenty-five had a skull and crossbones emblazoned across their forehead.
Life began to take on the possibilities it had before – before Jon, when I was just a struggling student with a scholarship, a heavy load of school work and a demanding job. Dreams of my future became rosier as those months clicked off and I could finally start smiling like I meant it.
***
A cold and rainy night in October, I was making my way from the law library to my apartment, my head turned down against the rain that made my red hair a scraggly mess. I looked at my shoes and the slippery pavement, not straight ahead. But that would have hardly helped; the attack came at me from behind.
One minute my feet were moving forward at a steady clip, the next my body was snatched from the sidewalk by a pair of hard grasping hands and I was pulled deep into an alley where the shadows covered us in a blanket of inky blackness. We turned into a smaller dead-end alley, where the attacker pushed me into the wall behind a diner that had already closed for the night. My stupidity for walking home after midnight; there was not a soul nearby.
Nightmare of Vengeance Page 4