William Davis - The Polaroid club book II

As much as the thought appalled her, she was beginning to enjoy this lewd, bestial sodomizing of her private secret passage!

She was sobbing in a commingled mixture of frustration and self-loathing and desire as she fucked in ever increasing rhythm back against the salacious invasion of Steve Samuels. She involuntarily rolled and flung her buttocks back against the forward-driving shaft, feeling it worming deep around in her belly, feeling his testicles slam resoundingly with each forward lunge down against her naked, well-lubricated vaginal lips.

She's gone wild, she's gone wild! Samuels thought exultantly. She's mine, all mine, I've conquered another of these haughty young bitches for my own private amusement!

The pressure in his loins was intense now, and he knew his orgasm was only seconds away now, only seconds… He heaved and bucked like a rutting animal, emitting snorting, drooling sounds of sheer lust as he fucked long and hard and deep into her, his fingers digging cruelly into the soft, tender flesh of her buttocks, drawing blood there.

And then…

He was there, oh, Jesus he was there!

The wizened clerk began to chant crazily, "I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I'm cumming!" and his cock began to jerk out of control sunk deep in the warm softness of the young wife's bowels. Cindy felt the fire-hot semen erupt along his urethra tube from the swinging cauldrons of his testicles and fill her anus to overflowing, felt the searing liquid run down along the crevice of her churning buttocks, along the backs of her thighs, and pool on the bedspread beneath her flailing body.

It was over. At long last, it was over…

Or so she thought in that single, terrible moment of the climax of the rutting, wheezing man sodomizing her.

She collapsed forward finally, pulling his rapidly deflating cock from her anal passage with a painful wrench, and lay panting and sobbing, totally subjugated, totally enslaved, totally sick at soul. Samuels fell across her, cradling his head in the soft hollow of her back, his wet rubbery lips kissing the sweat from her smooth, satiny skin…

It was not long before the postal clerk's penis grew once more into erection, before he turned the limply yielding young wife over on her back and spread her legs wide and proceeded to fuck into her open cunt with long, hard, brutal strokes until he filled her aching cavity with more torrents of cum. He fucked her again, after that, first making her suck him to hardness once more while he probed her already widely stretched rectum with his middle finger. He performed other and still wilder atrocities on her flesh until Cindy, in her wildly churning mind, thought she would surely go insane with the knowledge of what he was doing to her, of her own enslavement to this evil, depraved man.

And yes, she thought she would go insane, too, from the fact that she had almost reached climax three times during this long, orgiastic night! For she was aroused by his ministrations, by his lewd teasing, by his ravaging penis, aroused and joining willingly in. At the beginning, she had tried to convince herself, as she had while he was sodomizing her, that she was only doing it to make him cum, to end this as quickly as possible. But then doubts began to linger, and she wasn't sure. Had she somehow become so completely subjugated that she was now a lover of the same sick acts as he? Oh, God, oh, God…

Finally, as the first rays of dawn drifted through the bedroom window, Cindy Jamison slept… slept with the terrible fear that she had lost something on this night, something good and innocent… and had gained something indefinable which would completely reshape her future life. Her dreams were nightmares, and she awoke groaning helplessly when the sun was up full later on and she was alone…

As he was about to leave, just past dawn, Steve Samuels had stood fully clothed over the naked, sleeping form of the naive young housewife he had just conquered and leered down at her. Look at her sleeping there, curled into a fetal position, he thought. She thinks it's over, that tonight is the end of me, that she's paid her price. He laughed triumphantly. But she hasn't, not by a long shot. There are plenty of things I can and will do to her – I and my faithful friend, Ringo. No, Mrs. Jamison, this isn't the end at all. It's just the beginning for you…

The darkened room with the drawn blinds looked strangely unfamiliar to Cindy when she awoke. It was her own bedroom, no question about that; there was her dresser, her white ruffle-lined vanity, the cane-backed chair next to the full-length mirror… She stretched her hand along the bedcovers, feeling the soft material with her fingertips. Yes, it was her bed in her own bedroom in her own house – but in another sense, it wasn't.

It wasn't because the love, the marital bond which had united this lovely young wife with her husband had been broken here, right here on this bed. It wasn't because no longer did these four walls enclose a sanctuary of wedded harmony, no longer was there the presence of emotional ties. Her bedroom had become just another bedroom; her bed just one of many.

She might just as well have been in a third class hotel.

Cindy moved and felt an excruciating pain just over her left eye. She sunk back, groaning aloud. Her head felt oddly thick and it was difficult to think. Every muscle in her body seemed to be tied in tiny knots. She lay still, then recalled the horrible dream she had had last night.

The obscene, sickening debauch of her mind and being by some lewdly grinning man the piteous wife could still picture the bullet-shaped, microcephalic head and the little, beady, blood-shot eyes gleaming lasciviously, and his croaking voice demanding… demanding that she… that she…

The impact suddenly hit her.

"My God, it had actually happened!"

In spite of the pain, Cindy sat up quickly. She stumbled from the bed and lurched heavily to the bathroom mirror, looking into it quickly.

"My God," she moaned, "it did happen. It wasn't a nightmare!" Heavy lines marred her fresh, young skin. Her eyes were sunk deeply into her head as though she had aged years since yesterday. She sagged against the washbasin for a long minute, literally torn apart now with her inner torment magnified tenfold, feeling as if millions of tiny, invisible, execrable creatures were slithering across her skin, dirtying it, defiling her body so that she would never be able to make herself clean again. She stood naked on the throw rug next to the shower stall and looked down at her breasts, at the fresh bruises which centered around the nipples. Then she looked down her smooth curve of stomach to her raised pubic mound, at the dried and alien sperm matting the soft triangle of hair, at the still-inflamed cunt lips which that man – that beast – had so abandonly manipulated into desire with his hot, hard penis and later with his thin, swirling tongue. She thought how the postal clerk had fucked her, sodomized her (as she thought of his probing cock buried in her anal channel, she automatically tightened her sphincter muscles, causing her to moan, for her whole backside and anus were sore beyond belief) – how he had forced her to participate in every lewd act imaginable. And worse, far worse, was the indelible, terrifying suspicion that she had enjoyed it! That the drug, the liquor, the intense sexual frenzy of the government employee had eventually made her respond with wild abandon, as though she was with her own husband, her loving Howard, and not that evil-incarnate and his blackmailing threats.

She thought about all of this as she stood and looked down at her nubile nakedness, and the filthy, unseen organisms seemed to scurry faster and faster along every conceivable inch of her velvety surface.