If there was a will, shit, there'd be a way.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Eula Peters would have pissed in her panties if she had been wearing panties.
But she wasn't wearing panties. Well, she was wearing panties, but they weren't where panties should be worn. Her panties were on her head, one eye peering out one of the leg holes – the left leg hole, Eula realized, because she could read the label on the waistband of her undies.
The reason she pissed not in her panties but on Wendell Rathers' swivel chair with all the erotic gadgets was because Wendell was sitting on top of his desk showing her his charred cock.
"You motherfucker, Eula! Look at it! What the hell's it good for!?"
Eula swallowed a ball of fear that threatened to erupt from her throat like vomit.
She wanted to tell him that she didn't have anything to do with his charred cock. It was probably a defect in the machinery that she had helped to design. A small breakdown, a mechanical error. It had happened to his desk just like it happened to Fords or Chryslers when the brakes give out and a family of eight becomes a family of one.
But she couldn't talk because her mouth was full of cotton.
"You motherfucker, Eula! Jesus! I might as well kill myself! Slut, a man's got to have a prick, not a cooked weenie! Shit, do you know how much it burns when I piss? Do you know what it feels like to have your cock stuck in a blowtorch? Well – do you?"
What could she say? Like most women, she didn't have a prick, didn't know what it felt like to have a cock… unless it was in her pussy. Then she knew what a cock felt like when it was in her pussy. But, Christ, there wasn't a prick growing between her legs! She didn't know what it felt like – but how could she tell him that?
"Well, I'm gonna tell ya what it feels like, Eula. It feels like this!"
Eula watched Wendell punch a button – the one she knew would produce a velvet-gloved hand that would jack off her cock, or rather, it would try and jack off something that protruded near her crotch.
But Eula was wrong. Or halfway wrong.
There was a velvet glove coming toward her crotch all right. Only it held a cucumber.
Eula squirmed. No! No! No!
But there was no escape. The metallic arms held her immobile. The shackles on her thighs and ankles felt cold and dreadful.
As cold and dreadful as the cucumber that was being thrust into her pussy.
"Mmmggggaaaaggffffif! Mmmgggfffggg!"
Wendell laughed. "Tee-hee! Tee-hee! Oh, Eula, look at that fucking cucumber! It's jabbing the shit out of your pussy! Oh, wowee!"
Eula squirmed again. Useless. She might as well resign herself to getting fucked by the cucumber.
Slosh. Slosh. Slosh.
The cucumber became covered with lots of cunt-juice as Eula resigned herself to getting fucked.
Slosh. Slosh. Slosh.
The cucumber became covered with lots of cunt-juice as Eula resigned herself to getting fucked. The bumps on the skin of the cucumber rubbed against Eula's clit as it slammed and banged and fucked in and out of her pussy.
Wendell stopped laughing. He was getting an erection and it was hurting like a motherfucker as the scabs on his prick broke into smaller sections of scab.
"You whore! Oh God! My prick's gettin' hard! Oh God! My prick!"
Eula couldn't believe it. The fucking cucumber was driving her up a wall. She was gonna come! She couldn't help it. She had resigned herself to getting fucked, and now she was going to have to pay for her resignation. She was gonna come!
"Mmmgggffff! Mmmmggggffff!"
Wendell knew she was coming! Goddamn, he didn't want her to come! He wanted her to suffer, to make her feel what it felt like to have her prick charred.
"You whore! You're enjoying it! You motherfucker, Eula!"
Another button went "click".
Two tentacle arms came into Eula's leg hole view. Oh God! The tittie-suckers were coming at her just like the movie poster that showed the Attack of the Giant Squid when they vanquished Waco, Texas.
But her tits weren't in Waco. They were on her chest, and they were being vanquished.
"Mmmgggfffff! Mmmggghhhhffff! Mmmmgggghhhhffff!"
Slush. Slush. Slush.
"There! You whore! How do you like that? How do you like it when your tits are being sucked off your chest?"
She loved it!
Her titties had never felt better as they were sucked off her chest. Oh God! She wanted to die from the delicious feelings of ecstasy that were coming from her clitand her nipples. Nothing had ever felt so good on her tits. Not Lance's mouth when he was in swaddling clothes. Not Kirby's mouth when he had a five-o'clock shadow. Oh shit! Her titties felt so good – awful good!
Wendell watched Eula's eyes, or rather, her one eye. No! That wasn't a look of suffering in that one doe-like pupil! That was ecstasy! The fucking bitch was loving the fucking cucumber in her cunt and having her titties extended another yard.
"You fucking bitch! You love it, don't you!? You love having your titties stretched and that cucumber in your cunt! You motherfucker!"
Another button went "click".
Eula heard a whirring noise coming from the direction of her ass. She felt the seat cushion sliding out of the way and a thousand toothless mouths began sucking at her flesh like she had been born with a thousand tits on her back. And a thousand bawling babies were suckling at her thousand back titties.
Another button went "click".
Eula didn't hear a whirring noise coming from her ass, she felt a whirring noise enter her aching asshole, filling her ass with a whirring noise that vibrated against the walls of her rectum.
"Mmmmmgggggffffff! Mugggggffff!"
Eula opened her eyes. Saw the mad look on Wendell's face through the frame of the frilly leg hole of her panties. He looked very pissed. But she couldn't help coming! She really couldn't! A woman would have to have polio from the neck down not to be able to feel the delicious sensations of getting tittie-fucked, cucumber-fucked and ass-fucked.
Eula closed her eyes, those sensations were just too much to stand!
Wendell watched her brown eye close, watched the sweat drip from her eyebrow and emerge four seconds later beneath the elastic waistband of her panties before dropping to her tits.
The motherfuckin' whore! She loved every bit of it! Goddamn, he'd teach her a thing or two about what it felt like to have her prick charred and burned.
Shit, it just wasn't any fun for the degrader to watched the degradee having fun.
Collie found Becky Jane Johnson's apartment.
It had been very difficult finding out where she lived and what she did and who she did it with.
He was very thankful for that Lance Peters kid who always hung around the gym for doing most of the footwork.
Collie grunted as he climbed up the last step of the stairwell. His heart was beating very fast. But at least it was beating. And he felt better brain – wise too. He no longer heard those cymbals crashing between his ears because the thought of what he was going to do to Becky Jane Johnson had overpowered all other thoughts.
Nobody was going to get in his way this time. He needed, wanted, would die for a title shot for Buster Hyman. Shit, Collie knew it would be his last chance and, if anybody was going to fuck it up, it would be him, not some two-bit slut that was probably going to drum up some fictitious rape charge against his boy for tearing her lemon-yellow panties.
Collie raised his cane. The boxing glove resting atop the handle of the cane jabbed thrice at the door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Collie waited patiently. He had all the time in the world to kill. If she wasn't home this time, he'd come back tomorrow. And he'd come back the day after that… until he found her at home.
Knock. Knock. Knock.