Alex Ayers - The soldier_s wife

He laughed and shoved the tool into her as she swung back toward him.

"That hole's bleeding. It's bleeding." Allen's voice pitched high as he jumped from one foot to the other and watched the red blood trickle down to the rug.

"That feels good, doesn't it, Gwen?" His voice was more suggestive than soothing.

"I don't know… I don't know."

She bit her lip and felt the pain pulsing through her body, needling her brain with tiny, sharp stabs that came and went as Allen spoke.

"It doesn't hurt. Sybil said it didn't hurt her. Nothing hurts when you love. Nothing."

His voice was trembling with excitement. The rubber plunger drove in mercilessly, spreading the injured tissues until the rawness made Gwen's head swim with a mixture of repulsion and pleasure.

"Ahhhrruggh!" Gwen spat, her head arching up as Allen stopped her swaying motion and jack-hammered the rubber phallus into her.

"Stop. Don't stop. More. God. Allen. It hurts. It's beautiful. Allen! Allen! Faster! Faster!"

"slut! Pig! Alley whore!"

He spat out the words as he bored the weapon into her and felt her body stiffen.

Gwen frothed at the mouth, spittle falling from her lips like strands of silver cobwebs. She only felt the overpowering sensation of her orgasm, brittle, beginning to break inside her womb like the ice on a frozen river. She felt the surface cracking, heaving as the roaring waters shoved the ice up out of the water and tossed the massive chunks against one another, smashing the smaller pieces to slivers. She was in the middle of the thundering explosion, being squashed together by the freezing chunks as they swelled up and crunched down, gathering against her. The nightmare din of the breaking ice jam filled her mind. She let out a long, screaming howl as she felt herself being torn loose from the midst of the broken ice and washed rapidly through the turgid water, sweeping past the shores lined with naked figures resembling Bob and Sybil, out to empty into a lake of white, thick, molten sperm.

"Get ready."

"Oh." Gwen rolled painfully over to her side and tried to open her puffed eyes. Her shoulders and back ached. She pushed herself up on one elbow and forced her eyes open. Allen was throwing socks and shorts into a small bag.

"Get your ass in gear, Gwen. It's Friday."

"Friday?" She tried to move her legs, but a throbbing pain in her crotch made her stiffen. She reached down and felt the tender, battered flesh around her vagina.

"Yeah, Friday. We're going up to see Sybil and Bob. Now come on." His voice was restless and his hands shook as he tried to snap the suitcase closed.

"Hurry the fuck up," he yelled, his eyes smoldering, his biceps twitching hysterically.

"I can't move," she mumbled, closing her eyes and falling back against the mattress.

"Get up." Allen pulled her roughly to her feet. Her joints felt like they were on fire as her knees buckled and she fell against him.

"Please, Allen? Let me sleep?"

"No. Sybil wants us up there by six. She's having some guests over. Some beautiful people she told me about."

He stared at the wall, his eyes glazed, his mouth twitching.

"I don't want to go. I want to sleep."

Grumbling, Allen lifted her and carried her to the bathroom where he sat her in the tub and turned the shower on. The cold water pelted her skin, wetting her hair and trickling icily down her nose and chin. Allen picked up a bar of soap and gruffly rubbed it over her skin and then pushed her head under the steaming water.

"Now, get ready. Put some make-up on and look presentable." He clomped out of the room, leaving her sitting limply in the cold shower.

Gwen slept most of the way to Santa Monica. It was a restless, discomforting sleep filled with the bitter memories of the previous week. She fought the thoughts, trying to think of them as beautiful, but the throbbing aches coming from nearly every spot on her body made the struggle difficult.

Her hair was still damp as she walked stiffly behind Allen to the McCuskers' house. She had covered the bruises on her face and neck with makeup, but couldn't hide them from her mind.

"Hello, handsome."

Sybil met them at the door. She wore a see-through house-dress revealing her smooth, tanned flesh, her dark patch of triangular pubic hair, her long, squash-shaped breasts with their proud, protruding nipples. Bob skulked in the living room, not at all happy with the visitors.

"Gwen, you look lovely, dear," Sybil lied, noticing the woman's haggard face and her matted hair clinging to the sides of her face under her scarf.

"Thank you," Gwen stammered, shuffling her feet and feeling uncomfortable.

Sybil laced her arms around Allen's neck and ground herself against him as she kissed him.

"I've missed that, Allen," she whispered.

"Me too."

Sybil broke away from Allen's tight grip and led them into the living room. Bob stood near the repaired stereo, a fatuous look on his face.

"Well, say hello to our lovely guests, Robert."

"Hello," Bob said, turning toward the stereo and fiddling with the knobs.

"Hey, I see you got it fixed, old boy." Allen marched over and slapped Bob on the back. "Looks as good as ever. Sorry about that, again."

Bob grunted.

"Still a little pissed?" Allen poked him in the ribs and laughed.

Bob wheeled away. "Hello, Gwen."

"Hi." She reached up and touched her tender cheek where Allen had hit her two nights ago.

"Say, you look like you've been partying all night."

"You bet we have," Allen boasted, grabbing Sybil by the waist and pulling her against him. "Good friend Sybil here taught us a few tricks that were really wild." He pressed his slobbering mouth against Sybil's and forced his tongue into her mouth.

"Easy, Rover," she said, pushing him away. "Let's not rush things."

"Just happy to see everyone," he answered, slapping her hard on the buttocks. Bob clenched his fist and took a long draw from his drink.

"How is everything, Gwen?" Bob spoke quietly to the disheveled-looking woman next to him.

"Fine. Fine." Her voice quavered and she pulled at her fingers nervously.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes. Fine."

"Is every thing still beautiful." His voice was hesitant.

Gwen's eyes flicked furtively from side to side.

"I… yes… I think so… I'm glad to be here, if that's what you mean."

Bob sighed and sat back. "You remember what happened last time you were here?"

She shook her head, trying to recall a particular incident. "No. Just that we loved each other, as we always do."

"That's right."

"How's the golf game?" She didn't care about the answer, she just wanted to rid herself of the loud buzzing in her mind, to wash away the detached sensation that overcame her as she watched Allen and Sybil pawing each other across the room.

"Not bad. Has Allen been loving you?"

She lowered her head and looked at her chipped fingernails. "Yes."

"Did it hurt, when he loved you?"

She bit her lip and looked at Allen's hands as they cupped Sybil's blossoming buttocks.

"No. I love him. When you love, nothing hurts." The words came out automatically. They weren't true, but she couldn't say that he had hurt her, that she remembered the pain and soreness, the curses and the interminable attacks Allen had made upon her the past week.

"That's good," Bob said, sinking back and crossing his legs. "It's important, very important, that you only feel love – nothing else."

"I understand." But she didn't. She didn't understand why she was saying the things she had said. She didn't understand why Sybil was fawning over Allen's penis and laughing as he pinched her breasts and made her squeal. She didn't understand why Bob sat like a lamp, not looking at his wife with another man.