17
Her bound hands were crushed cruelly beneath her as Bartelli's heavy
body pounded relentlessly down on top of her. He made coarse grunting sounds
with every thrust. His entire weight was on her, pinioning her body, flattening
her breasts beneath his chest. His mouth slobbered over her face as he worked
away.
The tears ran endlessly down her cheeks; she was not even aware of them
any more. She had not tried to stop him from taking her. It was no use, and
besides she couldn't take the risk that he would leave her that way, or that he
would tell Tom. What did it matter, anyway; one more man using her degraded body
for his pleasure. Only let it be over, let him finish with her and go away.
His cock was enormous. She had seen it, thick and gross when he had
taken off his clothes, and now she felt it, stretching and mauling her aching
and exhausted cunt. Filling her, pounding and battering the tender flesh,
forcing its brutal and inexorable way deep, deep inside her, again and again and
again. Hurting. Raping. While her body was mashed beneath his terrible weight,
trapped and helpless...her crushed arms behind her, useless... and the
pain...the shame...the pain...
Oh no. Oh god no. Please, no...
Her legs rose, rose and curled themselves over his. Then they went
higher, wrapped themselves around his body. Her ankles locked behind his back,
squeezing him tightly in the grip of the shapely, trembling limbs. Moans came
from her mouth, interspersed with her sobs. her hips writhed involuntarily
beneath his accelerating lunges, and when finally she felt him spewing into her,
she gave a broken cry of helpless climax.
After a long moment Bartelli rolled off her and lay flat on his back
beside her, panting heavily. She stayed where she was, her eyes closed, not
wanting to move, not wanting to have to face him, or herself.
But she had to. With a great effort, she opened her eyes and sat up.
Bartelli hadn't moved. He was no longer a young man. His body was still
powerful, but fleshy, with a protuberant beer belly. He was hairy all over.
"Please," Susan said. "Untie me now."
Bartelli didn't move. He just looked at her. "Jesus," he said
wonderingly. "You really like it, don't you? You really get off on that stuff."
She swallowed. "Mr. Bartelli," she said, making an effort to keep her
voice calm. "You've had...what you wanted. Now please... untie me and go."
"Sure," Bartelli said. "Sure I will, Mrs. Garson. Don't worry about
that. Hey, who tied you up, anyway?"
"It doesn't matter," she said. "Please..."
"Come on," he said. "You can tell me. Must be quite a guy. Ties you up
and fucks you silly, and you dig it, right?"
"For god's sake," Susan said. "Look, my husband will be home soon..."
"Not for a while," Bartelli said. "I know about when the people in this
building come and go. What else do you to for him?"
"What?"
"This guy that ties you up. What else do you do for him?"
"I...I don't know what you mean."
"Sure you do." He was looking at her mouth. She felt suddenly weak. "You
got a nice mouth, Mrs. Garson. A real nice mouth."
"Please..." she whispered.
"I bet you use it real good on him," Bartelli said hoarsely. "Show me,
Mrs. Garson. Come on. Show me what you do for him."
Susan swallowed again. She couldn't speak.
"Come on," Bartelli repeated. "Show me, and then I'll untie you, okay? I
promise." He reached a hand up to the back of her neck and began to pull her
head down. "Show me, baby. Show me good."
She gave a moan of despair and surrender, and let him pull her head to
his crotch. She opened her mouth and took him in.