But gradually, between her anguished shrieks and Al's pistoning huge rod, a strange pleasure began to infect her ravaged asshole. It was as if the intense pleasure in her holly sucking cunt and the sheer white-hot torture in her helpless anus were merging, fusing into one uttering wave of pain-bliss.
Sheila Jensen, the beautiful middle-class perfect wife and mother of Rockville, had suddenly discovered she could no longer tell the difference between torture and ecstasy. For the nakedly helpless housewife, at this moment they were the same. Her wails became softer as his grunts became louder, until the entire bedroom was a din of lewd moans and groans. "Good – mmmmmm! – good cunt!" Al groaned, fucking her madly pulsating pussy with increasing lust. He twisted the whip-handle once or twice into her impaled asshole to make her shriek in surprise, but he was too intent on enjoying her hot luscious slit, madly quivering on his cock, to care about tormenting her any more.
"Ooooooooo, yes, oh you bastard, yes, fuck me, hurt me, tear it up!" Sheila sobbed, beyond any shame or humility. The tearing, blazing sensations in her gorged pussy and asshole made everything else in the world a pale shadow at that moment.
And then the manacled housewife was coming, having the most shattering orgasm of her life. His boiling juices were spurting deep into her tingling pussy, while her churning bowels were stinging furiously from the whip butt. Like a searing fire out of control, her entire insides were exploding with raw hot sex-thrills.
Minutes after he withdrew his limp prick, Sheila continued to shudder her ravaged ass in spasms on the whip-handle, as if pleading for more. When he suddenly tore it out, she let out one final scream. Then her perspiring naked lushness collapsed on the bed in a heap of exhaustion and fulfillment.
He unchained and released her then. Moving in a state of numb shock, Sheila got dressed. Only once did he speak to her before she left for her own house next door. "Kneel down and kiss my cock before you go," he ordered. "With reverence, understand?"
Humbly, Sheila did as she was ordered. The taste of her own passionate pussy-juices clung to it, giving her an eerie, dreamlike feeling as she lapped it up.
When she got back to her own house, she was deeply relieved to find no one else had come home yet. She went up to her bedroom, sobbing in a heap on the bed. Over and over one word spun in her mind maddeningly.
Why? Why would she let herself be so cruelly tortured and debased? How could any man, brute or animal, be allowed to treat her like that? Her sensuously trembling body shook like a leaf in a storm, as she asked herself the same question over and over again.
Deep down she knew the answer, and finally had to admit it to herself. She'd started out just looking for variety, for a few bizarre new thrills. And she'd gotten far more than she bargained for or could handle. As much as the hulking brute revolted her, she knew she'd have to go back for more.
Sheila Jensen had been sexually awakened in some depraved way she couldn't understand. She liked being bound, raped in the mouth and vagina and her tenderly painful asshole. She liked being whipped, because in some inexplicable way it excited her more than anything else in her life. It made her feel like a totally helpless sex-slave.
But how could she break free of the cruel, totally insensitive creep next door? There had to be a way out.
An idea came to her, the faintest of hopes, but she clung to it fat dear life.
Maybe – just maybe – she could get all the satisfaction she needed and play it safe at the same time. If only she didn't have such a loving, wholesome family! Sweet, faithful Mark who never looked at another woman. Young, clean-cut Jack who couldn't dream of the depravity his mother was willingly submitting to. And trusting Marsha.
Sweet Marsha, undoubtedly still a virgin. Thank God for that! sighed Sheila as she got up. Her plump ass felt like pound hamburger, while the taste of Al's boiling semen still lingered in her mouth. Tears stung her eyes as she stared out the bedroom window, at the quiet, tree-shaded street.
The ripe-breasted housewife went downstairs to start dinner, but the phone rang first. She talked for a few minutes, baffled, but then hung up with a resigned sigh. Apparently her husband, Mark, wanted to talk something over seriously with their daughter, Marsha. They would be at the cabin up at the lake for a few hours.
Sheila wondered what the talk could possibly be about. If she knew what actually would happen, her beautiful, shimmering black hair would probably turn a stark-white on the spot.
CHAPTER FOUR
At three-thirty that afternoon, Anne Hawkins, dressed, without makeup, and with her hair coiled, the town music teacher was once again plainly prudely up in a bun. Her student scheduled for that time was Julie. Knoll, the pretty blonde girl that lived directly across the street.
The only thing Anne knew about the girl was that her father was a crude specimen, her mother a mouse, and that the cute adolescent had absolutely no interest in piano. She dutifully went through her piano lessons like a mechanical player, just to please her parents.
It was hard for Anne to concentrate all that day. Her wild, obscene encounter with Jack Jensen the night before had left her in sort of a daze, extremely horny and quite confused. All she was certain of was that the gnawing hunger in her hot loins made it damned near impossible to concentrate on anything.
Julie showed up at three-thirty promptly. She was, Anne realized, very lovely in her blossoming youth. Her pert, plump tits bounced seductively beneath her T-shirt every time she moved, and there was no denying the girl would be a lush beauty when she grew up. Once even the jealous woman thought that Jack might have screwed her, since he was her next-door neighbor, flashed through her mind. And there was a telltale blush to the young blonde's cheeks that convinced the tall brunette that Julie was definitely having an affair with someone. Probably some silly boy at school.
Julie went through her first ten minutes of piano scales with horrifying effect, making the music teacher wince.
"Look, honey," Anne finally told her with a sigh, "there's no sense in going on. Your mind isn't on your lessons today. Since you've still got about forty-five minutes to go, you can either go home or just sit here and gossip with me."
The sexy little blonde smiled at her gratefully. "You're right, Miss Hawkins. I can't concentrate worth a damn." Julie's cute face reddened. "The fact is, well, I've got love problems, see? You know how it is."
The lush brunette didn't know how it was, since she had sex problems instead. But she may as well play psychiatrist for the girl. After all, she was irresistibly lovely, and all Anne would do was think about fingerfucking if Julie left her alone. A sudden impulse prompted Anne.
"If you want to tell me all about it, Julie, go right ahead," Anne said, thinking it was a schoolgirl crush. "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"How about wine or something like that? Beer?"
"Would your father approve?" the brunette asked, smiling. Everyone knew her father was a complete brutal bastard, the neighborhood terror.
"Don't worry about him," Julie retorted, waving a hand scornfully. "Everybody in school smokes grass, Miss Hawkins. You know that."
Smiling, Anne went into the kitchen and poured two glasses of sherry. Nice girl, Julie. Very pretty really, with the most darling breasts and buttocks. Bright, too. Sexy, too, Anne thought with a faint tingle in her lips. Such smooth, silken skin and legs…
They chatted small talk for a minute while Julie nervously gulped her wine. The blonde was beginning to feel daringly audacious about her fantastic affair with Jack's father. There were times, fact, when she could barely keep from confessing it to other girls at school. They were dummies, of course, and would blab it around. But there was something so sweet and sympathetic about Miss Hawkins, so adult, Julie began to feel safe about telling her. Especially halfway through her second glass of wine.