Marriage

by Charles Arnold

  She would kneel before him and beg forgiveness. She would say whatever he wanted to hear. She would take his cock and the cocks of his ruthless friends in her mouth and ass. She would demean herself in whatever way he required, but she would survive and, possibly one day even prevail.

  She stood and crossed to the full-length mirror next to her dressing table. Last night’s multiple orgasms had eased the tension she’d seen in her face. In spite of her situation, she looked softer, more relaxed. Although her make-up was heavily applied and exaggerated, it looked more theatrical than whorish. The shining lipstick was not a match for the brightness of her blue eyes. The black sheen of her hair perfectly framed her oval face. Her body, she noticed, was much firmer than it had been when she last stood before this mirror. Her waist was impossibly tiny accentuating the round fullness of her ass, and the proud swell of her breasts. Her long rouged nipples poked at the transparent gown. She turned and saw how the obscenely high heels shaped the curve of her calves and lifted her ass provocatively. Jeff had often said she was a real head-turner and always claimed she was the most beautiful woman in any gathering they attended. Although she never said so to him, she had to admit to herself that he was usually right. She had never been overly conscious of her appearance, but she knew then, and more than ever now, that she was a very pretty woman.

  Horrible as the weeks at the Facility had been, it was clear that the rigorous exercises, the training of special muscles, the healthy diet, and perhaps even the constant humiliation had combined to make the woman in the mirror stunningly beautiful. If she were free of Abul...free of her contract to Satomi, she could no doubt have a career as a supermodel or marry any man she chose. But for the next two weeks she belonged to the filthy coward who had murdered not only her husband, but also poor Uzetta. Looking at the lovely image in the mirror, she said to herself, “I hate Abul...I hate him! Just to look at him fills me with hatred and disgust!”

  The unnerving thought came to her that the beautiful face in the mirror and her splendid young body now belonged to her husband’s cold -blooded murderer. Abul could touch her where and how he pleased. His rough hands would knead her breasts. She would kiss him, make love to him. She would kneel before him and part her lips. His horrible cock would fill her mouth. She would swallow his thick jism. He would make her taste his sweat and filth. She would press her head to the floor and spread her ass cheeks and beg him to fuck her.

  And he would take her there, pressing the swollen tip of his long, thick penis against her opening and then she’d feel the searing pain as its terrible length slid up inside her, throbbing and hot. The thought came to her that Abul’s cock buried deep in that most private place was an act far more intimate than anything she had ever experienced with her husband. Abul would begin pumping her slowly at first. Even though she wouldn’t want to, she’d begin to match the rhythm of his thrusts and hear herself moan and cry out as he filled her with hot powerful spurts of his jism. That’s the way it had been with him, right from the beginning. She belonged to Abul now. Here, in her own house, she was his woman. And because he was not permitted to take her in the natural way, he would fuck her ass and, despising herself, she would beg him to do it... vile, corrupt, abominable...even to think about, but to actually do it! She glanced again toward the bathroom where Jeff’s razors lay waiting. A loud banging on the door interrupted her thoughts.

  “Come out, bitch!” Abul yelled, “And get on your knees.” His loud harsh voice always frightened her. Trying hard not to let them see her tremble, Kathy opened the door walked down the hall and entered the living room. With her head bowed, she got to her knees. “Now, you fuckin’ slut, down on your belly.” Abul spoke from one of the leather chairs on the far side of the room. Aware that there were three others in the room, Kathy stretched out on the rug but did not look up.

  There was a roaring fire in the fireplace. Several candles had been lit. The room was hot, and smelled of whiskey and the musty odor of unclean clothes. “Come to me,” Abul said. “Come to me on your belly.” Kathy glanced at Abul’s shoes, relieved to see that he had not taken them off. Slowly, on her stomach, her arms stretched out before her, she inched across the floor toward him.

  She heard some muttered comments and the laughter of a woman. When she reached Abul, he let her lay prostrate before him for several minutes. “My friends,” he said, “you see here at my feet the wife of the man we killed. As you know, we are in the house where they lived happily, but not forever after.” Abul chuckled and the others joined him. He shoved the tip of his shoe under Kathy’s chin and lifted her head. “Look at me, Mrs. Ryan.”

  The smoldering hatred she had always seen in his eyes was now more intense than ever. “Before this night is over you will show by your words and actions that you appreciate what we have done. You will prove to us and to yourself that you are glad we made it possible for you to be my woman. You will thank us many times and in many ways.” He grinned at her, the flickering light of the fire exposing the yellow stubs of his rotting teeth. “Now, get up on your knees. Give me the clitoral cap, then welcome my friends to your house. Thank them for making it possible for you to invite me to your bed...for you to become Abul’s woman.”

  Kathy pushed herself into a kneeling position. She handed Abul the cap before looking around the room at her guests. At first she was appalled, then frightened. Abul gestured toward the couch on which sat a man and a woman who, Kathy guessed, were in their mid-forties. Both were excessively fat. Their round moon faces grinned at her. They looked startlingly alike. “Twins,” Abul said, “brother and sister.” Not taking their eyes from Kathy, they nodded in unison. “I spoke to you about Ira,” Abul continued. “He was on the plane to see that the stewardess carried out her orders and to watch your husband die.” Kathy noticed the man had unzipped his fly. While he stared at her, he stroked his small, limp, uncircumcised cock. “Ira’s sister is called Iris,” Abul went on. “You, of course, will refer to them as Mr. Klein and Miss Klein.” Abul paused to drink from a glass of bourbon he held in his hand. Abul tapped Kathy’s knee with his shoe. “Do you remember how I told you to greet them?”

  “Yes, I remember.”

  “Well, do it, bitch!”

  Kathy bowed her head. “Mr. and Miss Klein, I welcome you to my house. I...I...wish to thank you for...for...making it possible for me to become Abul’s woman.”

  Abul smiled, “Iris managed to procure the rare ingredients for the poison that killed your husband. As I have told you, the mixture guaranteed his death would be a very painful one. Her brother was there to see it, right Ira?”

  “Very painful, Abul,” Ira’s voice was unnaturally high, “the woman’s husband suffered just as you wanted him to.”

  “Yes,” Abul kept his eyes on Kathy who had not looked up. “Well, perhaps she had no wish for him to die painfully, but if he were not dead I wouldn’t be sitting in his house at this moment nor would I be taking his wife to bed later. Isn’t that right, Mrs. Ryan?”

  “That’s right,” Kathy said, lifting head and turning to face Abul. “You would not be here tonight or any other night.”

  “But now you want me instead of your weak husband, yes? You want Abul in your bed?” Her words and attitude angered him.

  Kathy was silent for a few moments but knew it would only make matters worse if she defied him again. She turned back toward the brother and sister, “It pleases me to have Abul and his friends here.” She heard Abul tap his foot impatiently. “And I want Abul to...I mean I want to make love to Abul in my bed.” Kathy was aware of movement in a chair near the fireplace that was half hidden in shadows. She turned toward the chair and, as the occupant leaned forward, she gasped and brought her hands to her lips.

  “This,” Abul said, “is Doctor Conrad Gruber. Actually it was he, not myself, who came up with the brilliant plan that resulted in your husband’s death. He chose the fatal ingredients and mixed them in a way that insured the outcome I wanted.”

  Gr
uber stood up slowly and bowed in Kathy’s direction. He looked like a cadaver, like someone out of one of those horror movies about the living dead. He was at least seven feet tall. His lankly frame seemed skeleton like and his head little more than a skull over which was stretched pale colorless skin. Thin grey-brown hair was combed straight back from his high receding forehead. His long nose resembled the beak of a bird of prey. His eyes seemed lidless. They were sunk deep into his hollow face. As he stepped into the firelight, she could see that they, too, were almost colorless, a very pale hard blue. He wore a severe black suit with a vest and a black shirt buttoned to the neck. She looked at his hands. The long, smooth fingers were white. The fingernails were also long and pointed as if they’d been cut and filed and carefully manicured. He acknowledged her with a thin-lipped smile. It occurred to Kathy that he resembled what she had always imagined Death would look like. When he stared, unblinking, into her eyes, she felt as if a cold hand were squeezing her heart.

  As if from far away, she heard Abul saying, “Welcome your husband’s executioner, Mrs. Ryan.”

  It was a full minute before Kathy could speak and only then because Doctor Gruber looked across at Abul, releasing her from his hypnotic stare. “I...I...welcome you, Doctor, to my house,” she finally managed to whisper.

  “And?” Abul prompted.

  Kathy bowed her head, relived to be able to avoid looking at the frightening figure. “Your...your knowledge and skill has made it possible for me...for me to become Abul’s woman. For that, I am most grateful.”

  “You are quite welcome, Mrs. Ryan. However, I must say that I don’t sense in either your voice or your manner that you are happy to have us as guests in your home or that you are truly pleased to belong to Abul.” He waited for Kathy to respond. When she didn’t, he continued. “In fact, I suspect if it were possible to kill all of us you would do it in the blink of an eye. Is that not true, Mrs. Ryan?”

  Kathy glanced at Abul who was scowling. Obviously, he didn’t like the question, but it was just as apparent that he was fearful of objecting. She knew an honest answer would enrage him. Steeling herself to look again into the pale blue eyes of the Doctor she shook her head, “No, Doctor Gruber, killing is not in my nature. I couldn’t do it even if I wanted to.” His eyes burned into her. He knew she was lying. She looked down at the floor. “Abul has given me what I need. He’s shown me where I belong. I am...am...proud to belong to him.”

  “Well then, Mrs. Ryan, we shall avail ourselves of your hospitality and look forward to seeing you demonstrate your respect and affection for your Middle Eastern mentor.” He was mocking her and they all knew it.

  Abul, vaguely feeling that his control was slipping away, shouted at Kathy, “Now, bitch, crawl to Mr. Klein. Suck his cock...suck it good.”

  Kathy glanced at Gruber, hoping he might intervene. He looked at her impassively, then sat down and all but disappeared in the shadows. On her hands and knees, Kathy crawled to the couch where Ira, his pants around his ankles, waited for her. His fat fingers lazily stroked his small limp dick. From three feet away, Kathy could smell the stench of his sweaty crotch. As she inched between his stubby legs, he grinned down at her as did his sister. Abul moved his chair so that he could face them, “Ask, Mrs. Ryan, if you can show your gratitude for his part in making you a widow by sucking his prick,” he instructed.

  Ira’s cock looked like a plump sausage. Even though he continued to play with it, nothing happened. It had not begun to stiffen. The grey skin bunched at its head sickened her. She noticed there were warts on his testicles and on the dirty hand that pulled at his flaccid cock.

  “Ask, damn you!” Abul yelled.

  “May I offer to suck...to suck your cock as thanks for helping to make...make me a widow?”

  Ira didn’t seem at all embarrassed about his limp penis.

  Ira held his pale cock out to her. The foul odor was unbearable. He looked down at her beautiful face. In the candlelight her full lips glistened. He edged forward touching her lips with the bunched and wrinkled foreskin of his cock. She resisted the impulse to turn away. Instead, she parted her lips and he slid his prick between them. It lay in her mouth like a slimy raw shrimp.

  Behind her she heard Abul speaking, “If you remember, Mrs. Ryan, it was you who urged your husband to take the trip. Satomi counted on that. Your Jeff acting on behalf of a company Mr. Satomi was doing business with, was asked to go to New Orleans to sign the contracts. However, one of the other lawyers could have gone. Yes?”

  Tears came to Kathy’s eyes as she remembered Jeff’s reluctance to leave. She’d convinced him that he should. Ira held her head tight against his crotch. Although she sucked on his limp cock in the ways she’d been taught, nothing happened. It flopped around lifelessly in her mouth.

  Abul continued, “After completing his business in New Orleans, he was flying back to Washington to deliver the contracts before catching a flight home.”

  “Ira boarded the plane in New Orleans with the poisoned chicken sandwich, which he passed to the stewardess whose children we’d threatened and continue to threaten. She will never say anything. She served your husband his last meal. Your friend, Mr. Stein, sued the airline for five million dollars and won, making you a very wealthy widow. That’s another thing you need to thank us for.”

  Kathy was aware that Ira’s sister had changed her position on the couch in order to lean close to her. Kathy had closed her eyes shutting out the view of Ira’s thick pubic hair and bulging stomach. “Look at this, Mrs. Ryan,” Iris rasped. When Kathy opened her eyes she found herself staring at a large photograph of Jeff’s smiling face. She pulled back. Ira’s flaccid cock fell back against his small testicles.

  Abul called to her, “We found several pictures of him and had some enlarged for you. We also discovered some video tapes of your wedding and honeymoon, but we’ll save those for another time.”

  Kathy had turned away and put her hands to her face. She sobbed quietly. Abul waited a few moments before speaking again. “For someone who has been trained to give men pleasure, you are not doing very well, Mrs. Ryan. Ira wants a stiff prick. As you are looking at your husband’s photograph I want you to get Ira hard. Do you understand, bitch?”

  Kathy, her head bowed, said, “Yes, Abul, I understand.” She turned back toward Ira and moved between his legs again. Iris continued to hold Jeff’s photograph before Kathy’s eyes.

  “Suck me,” Ira said, once more holding his little cock out to her. Kathy skinned it back and licked around the ring of his cockhead. She lifted it and ran her tongue along the length of its underside. She flicked her tongue at the base of his cockhead. His prick began to swell as she took it into her mouth again. She tried to close her eyes again but Iris made her open them. With her right hand Kathy pulled on Ira’s cock as she sucked.

  Quickly, his sister put down the photograph and lay back on the couch. She spread her legs revealing a thatch of thick black hair parted by the dark purple slit of her rancid smelling cunt. She began to play with herself.

  “Now, Mrs. Ryan,” Abul directed, “And lick his balls.”

  Although Ira’s breath was coming faster. “I was there, in the plane with your husband,” he said.

  “We killed him,” Abul shouted.

  Kathy groaned and started to rise.

  “Goddamn it, you stay right where you are!” Abul shouted. “Keep your eyes open and keep doing what you’re supposed to do or Jeff’s little sister will feel the whip.”

  Kathy licked Ira’s testicles. She could feel the raised warts against her tongue. “Don’t you quit,” Ira ordered. “Do it like you like it. Keep in mind that you’re lickin' the balls of one of the guys that helped to make you a fuckin’ rich widow. Hold them in your mouth and suck them nice,” he said. His sack was small. She opened her mouth to take all of it.

  The tears flowed, unchecked, from Kathy’s eyes.

  “You can stop lickin now,” Ira finally said, “but stay right there and keep your
mouth open. I’m gonna stick my dick in it and you’re gonna suck till I cum.” Kathy glanced quickly at Abul pleading that he not make her do this. Abul shook his head and grinned. “Open!” Ira suddenly yelled. She parted her lips. His cock went directly from his sister’s cunt into her mouth. The taste and the revolting smell caused her to gag. Ira began to fuck her mouth. Ira jerked spasmodically and shot warm spurts into her mouth. His cum was watery and tasted of urine. She swallowed it, then slumped back and lay sobbing on the floor.

  They all watched her for a while. Finally, Abul ordered her to get to her knees. Slowly she pushed herself up and, kneeling, turned to face him, the hatred burning in her eyes, the tears still streaking her cheeks.

  “I didn’t hear you thank the twins,” Abul said.

  Still looking directly at Abul, Kathy’s voice was steady, “Thank you.”

  “Not good enough. What are you thanking them for and they have names.”

  Kathy bowed her head, “Mr. and Mrs. Klein, I thank you for your part in making it possible for me to become Abul’s woman.”

  “Are you happy to be my woman?” Abul taunted.

  Kathy raised her head and, frowning, answered, “Yes, I am pleased to belong to you.”