Robert Vickers - Her lover son

Harold was not able to hold back his jism any longer. He blasted his spunk with mindless fury into her tortured cunt. Joleen didn't feel anything but the throb of Harold's cock jerking and spurting off inside her. She knew, however, that he had blown his wad a lot sooner than he had intended. Joleen could tell by the crazed look in her husband's eyes that he had intended for this to go on for a long, long time. He wanted to make her suffer, and she refused.

Joleen refused to let Harold reach her. She built a mental wall around herself to shut out the pain. Humiliation meant nothing to her now. She was not going to let him degrade her further.

Harold snarled, "You liked that! You like being fucked and beaten! You dirty animal!"

Harold stood on the bed, his feet braced between Joleen's widespread legs. From his superior height, he looked down at his wife in contempt. She was as bound and helpless as she could have ever been. Joleen saw the white cum oozing off Harold's cock and dripping onto the bed.

If she had been able, she would have laughed at him. He was a ridiculous and pitiful sight.

Harold Jensen seemed to sense the amusement from the gleam in her eyes. He knew how she had thwarted his plans for revenge on her body. With obvious malice, Harold took his cock in hand and coldly told her, "You're subhuman. You're the lowest scumbag that ever existed. You're not fit for anything. You're not even fit for me to piss on!"

Joleen's eyes widened in horror. She saw the hole at the end of Harold's cock expand.

The woman screwed her eyes shut and tried to avoid the hot stream of piss that splashed and splattered on her face. The smelly piss warmly trickled down her face, over her lips, even spurted up her nose.

Joleen snorted and cleared the horrible liquid from her nostrils. But the stench remained. She tried to shake her head and get some of the piss off. She could tell it wouldn't work that easily. In a few seconds, her hair was drenched.

Harold laughed harshly.

"Is that more to your liking, bitch?"

She peered out from under one eyelid and saw Harold pull out a pocket knife from his trouser pocket. The puny penknife looked as big as a machete to her. He opened it and advanced on her. She watched the gleam of the silver blade with complete fascination. It seemed to hypnotize her. As badly as she wanted to look away, to cower from that wicked knife, she couldn't.

He stood over her and shoved the thin blade up inside one nostril. He wiggled it around a few times, enjoying the look of tenor on her face. The amusement in her eyes had changed to stark honor. Even through the gag, she managed to mutter, "NO!"

"So! The whore doesn't like the pretty knife."

With a motion too fast for her to see, Harold slipped the knife away from her nose and slashed the silk tie binding her left wrist.

"Slut!" was all he said. He dressed and left without another word to his bound and gagged wife.

Joleen managed to loosen her other bonds and was soon free. She sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, trembling and sick in reaction to what had happened to her. Finally, the stench of the piss was too great for Joleen to endure any longer. She rushed to the bathroom and heaved her guts out.

The first spell of vomiting past, the pain from her body began to take its toll. She vomited again, this time with the dry heaves.

The woman was drained physically and mentally after puking out her guts. Like some zombie, she turned on the water in the shower and slipped into the tub. The jet of hot water hurt as it washed over her body. But she didn't care. The pain wasn't any worse than the beatings Harold had given her.

When the piss was washed from her hair and her body had become one giant, dull ache, an intense hatred flowed into her mind. She wanted to get rid of Harold for what he had gone. She would do anything to get even.

Joleen didn't know how or when. She just knew that she would get even with that bastard.

Harold Jensen had created a monster.

Joleen sat under the hot shower for an hour. The aches in her body began to fade as her hatred grew. She finally heaved herself erect and stepped out of the shower. She knew that Harold was going to pay for this. But her first consideration was to get the hell away from this house.

The only problem was that she had nowhere to go.

Joleen considered her few friends and immediately decided that they would want nothing to do with a squabble between her and Harold. The way Willie had left, Joleen wasn't sure what her reception would be if she called on him for help.

In a flash of inspiration, Joleen called Larry's girlfriend. Katherine could help her. And Harold knew nothing of the red-haired girl since he never bothered even finding out where Larry was, much less who he was with.

Joleen dressed, careful of the many large welts that criss-crossed her body. She stumbled into the bedroom and sat on the bed. The woman tried to compose herself as best she could before calling.

She dialed the number, the phone rang several times, and then Katherine answered.

"K-Katherine? T-This is Joleen. Larry's mother."

"Oh, yeah, hi. Say, you sound pretty shitty. Is anything the matter?"

Joleen explained what had happened and how she needed some place to crash until she could begin divorce proceedings against Harold.

"Sure, Joleen. You're welcome to come over and stay at my place as long as you want." Katherine paused for a moment, then continued, "You don't think Harold'll come looking for you, do you?"

It was obvious that she was afraid of what he might do if he found Joleen in anyone else's apartment.

Joleen quickly put her fears to rest. "He doesn't even know about you, Katherine. Larry's never told him and neither have I."

"Well, that's a relief. I'd hate to have him wasted on my doorstep, you know."

"Wasted?"

"Yeah. Dusted. Bang, bang. A bullet through his head or something. I've got some pretty rough friends who might think he was trying to beat up on me if he came storming over. But if he doesn't know where I five, everything's groovy. Come on over. And better bring whatever you think you'll be needing. I doubt if you're going to be able to get back into your house for a long time."

"I'll pack a suitcase. And thanks, Katherine. I appreciate this more than I can tell you."

"No hassle, so forget it. I'll spread the word about your old man, though. He needs to be taken care of – bad."

Joleen hung up, then hastily packed a suitcase. She didn't pay much attention to what she packed. Undergarments, a couple of dresses, a pair of shoes. She remembered her toothbrush and crammed that in. She looked in the mirror after she finished dressing and saw the black eye forming. The woman shuddered at the thought of all she had been through in the past couple of hours. It seemed almost unreal. It was dreamlike, but a dream of nightmare proportions.

Joleen would have never thought Harold capable of such violence. If she never saw him again, it would be too soon. And yet she wanted revenge on him. Not only for what he'd done to her physically, but for the years of mental torture.

Keeping her locked up like a slave was another score that would have to be settled.

Joleen went out to find the car gone. She went back into the house again, called a cab, and fumed until the yellow car drove up in front of the house a half hour later.

They quickly drove across town, and before she knew it, Joleen was standing on Katherine's doorstep. She wasted no time in knocking. She was certain that the cab hadn't been followed, but Harold was a cagey bastard. He might have taken it into his head to follow her if she tried to leave the house.

Katherine immediately opened the door and let out a low "Goddamn!" In a louder voice she said, "Come on in, Joleen. God, but you look a mess."