"How you feeling?" he asked, untying her bonds.
"Go 'way," she muttered. "It's Sunday."
He chuckled and said, "No, Laura. It's only Saturday, and it's a beautiful day, and it's time to wake up."
She opened her lovely eyes and frowned at him for a few moments, and then recognition came and her cheeks reddened and her expression grew sullen. "I was hoping it was all a nightmare."
"It's a dream come true for me," he said, and tried to help her sit up.
She pushed him away and sat up by herself, with her knees hugged against her breasts. Looking down at the stain she'd made on the tangled sheet, she blushed anew.
"Feel like, a shower first or a Bloody Mary?" he asked.
"Neither, if it's with you."
"You can go into the bathroom by yourself, and take a drink in with you."
Her stomach was growling to have anything put in it, but she said, "I don't want your damned drink."
"Then take a shower," he said, and taking her hand, drew her from the bed.
She put up token resistance all the way, and then it was a great relief to be alone in the bathroom. She looked for razor blades first, although she didn't think she'd have the nerve to kill herself, and found that he shaved with an electric razor. She relieved herself and showered for a long time, and drank the shower water as she did. It didn't appease her hunger and she was irritated at her stomach for being so demanding at a time like this. She thought about just staying in there, but he'd break the door down. She wondered how, long she could go without food or drink, for she didn't want to be drugged again, and then realized with a shock that she hadn't been drugged that morning. Her sexual response had been due entirely to his advances and to the weakness of her own body, for she hadn't eaten or drunk anything since the night before. It made her ashamed of herself, and more than a little frightened by the previously unrecognized needs that dwelt inside her. Having recognized them now, however, she'd be on guard in the future and thus able to resist those wonderful, dirty feelings that the highly experienced rapist had forced upon her.
She considered leaving her hair a tangle, to be unattractive to him. But he didn't care about that. All he saw in her was down between her legs, and so she brushed out her hair before the mirror, with a towel wrapped around her from breast to loin, the better to conceal the body which had betrayed her.
Cautiously leaving the bathroom, her nostrils were assailed with the most delicious cooking odors. She had to see what it was, but first she quickly gathered up the bedclothes, yellow-stained sheet and all, and dumped them on the floor to remove one more reminder of her lack of self-control. With dignity and boldness, she walked into the kitchen, where he was standing before the stove. He turned and she glimpsed his penis, dangling soft and limp, before she sat down at the table.
"Want to finish up the steak and eggs?" he asked, and set the spatula on the sink and sat down across from her.
"No. I'm not going to cook for you."
"Then let it burn," he said, and filled two glasses with the red stuff in the pitcher.
He drank and smacked his lips while she stared coldly at hers. The sputtering of the breakfast cooking had her mouth watering, and she was dying to see what it was. She doubted if there was a drug in the Bloody Mary's, for he'd drunk it. She knew there was alcohol in it, and she felt she might need a little of that. Being a practical girl as well as a very hungry one, she took two deep and satisfying swallows of the spicy drink and rose to use the spatula.
The frying pan was overcrowded with sunny eggs and browning steaks, and Laura quickly became involved in cooking. She didn't even do more than protest when he took the towel from her, for she couldn't risk burning the breakfast and, after all, he'd seen her naked before. She wasn't aware that he'd taken her picture until she was seated at the table again, and there she saw herself stark naked before the stove, with a look of avid hunger on her face. She had to ignore the picture then, for the steak and eggs demanded all her attention. The food was gobbled up and washed down with a second glass of Bloody Mary, and when it was gone she felt like taking a nap.
The clicking of the camera brought her back to reality, and she sneered and said, "You like dirty pictures too, eh?"
Stripping out the film, he calmly replied, "I like beautiful pictures. And when I go back to jail, I want to have some with me, not that I'd ever have to be reminded of how you look, Laura."
She tried to wither him with a scornful look, and failing that, got up and cleared off the table. As she was rinsing the dishes, he showed her the completed picture. It was just of her head and shoulders, and she did look quite pretty, faintly smiling after the big meal, and modest enough with her bare breasts out of the frame. She sniffed disdainfully at it, and he backed up and took another picture of her doing the dishes.
"I'll be darned if I'll do your housework and let you take naked pictures of me!" she said, and started to stalk out of the kitchen.
Laughing, he caught her in his arms and tried to kiss her. She resisted with only partial success, and his body was still pressed to hers when he said, "Come on in the living room and let's talk."
She sat sulking on the couch while he put on some records and then came to sit beside her. He took her hand in his and said, "I love you, Laura."
"You love sex," she angrily replied.
He laughed and put his arm about her. "Sex is part of love. I love you a lot and I'd like to have a lot of sex with you before they haul me away. I'd like some right now."
From the corner of her eye she could see his penis was in no condition for that, so she said, "Then rape me again."
"I probably will," he confessed with a grin. "You seem to dig it so. But there are other things."
"I hate it when you even touch me."
"Not always. Be honest, Laura. When you're excited enough, you really go for it in a big way. And there are times when you'd like to touch me. I'd like you to touch me now," he said, and pulled her hand toward his lap.
She jerked her hand from his, saying, "I'd never touch that dirty thing."
"You already have. It's been in your pussy and in your ass. Take it in your hand now."
"I will not!"
He shrugged. "Do you want it in your hand or in your mouth?"
She knew he could do it. He could make it hard and ugly again and tie her up and force her to accept it in between her soft pink lips. She shook her head at him in vast exasperation and dropped her hand on his lap.
It was only human flesh, she reasoned, and she had to preserve whatever part of her virginity that she could. Touching that warm, soft organ with her hand was far better than having it jammed in her mouth, hard and hot.
He opened his legs and drew her closer, and she maintained an expression of disgust as she wrapped her fingers around it. She expected it to spring to life with a twang, but it grew only slowly, and as it did, he grinned more broadly and squeezed her waist and hip. It was hard to believe it could grow to the size she'd become familiar with. She gingerly squeezed it and stroked it, only faintly nauseous at the prospect of its inevitably being inserted in her yet again. She could feel where it was going to go once she'd made it hard, and to have it over and done with more quickly, she stroked it more.