At last, my nerve broke, and I fled for the door, forgetting in my haste that it was locked, and that Leo held the key. I pulled vainly at the shiny brass handle, and my buttocks swung in an ungainly way as I struggled uselessly with the door. In a moment Leo was behind me, and I was keenly aware of the heat of his rigid member tapping against my sparingly covered behind.
His arms came up to pull me away from the door, and he laughed in delight as he grappled with me.
‘Oh, no, baby. You’re not going anywhere tonight,’ he grunted into my ear.
He was old but he was strong and, despite my best endeavours, I soon found myself pulled over towards the bed. The backs of his knees must have signalled to him that he was in a position to sit down, and he did so. He pulled me with him, but he twisted his legs at the last moment, so that I fell face down over his lap. The exertion had left me a little breathless but, even so, I could have screamed if it had occurred to me, but the simple restraint of my nature worked against me, and I only huffed and puffed into the bedcover, while he busied himself scrabbling with my arms. For a moment I thought he was just going to hold them, until I felt something drawn tight around them, and I realised at once what he was doing. He was tying me up.
‘Stop it, Leo. Stop it at once,’ I cried, but he only laughed, and I realised that my protests were not going to have the desired effect. In fact, they were only exciting him more. He pushed my face into the bed, and I was forced to turn my head to one side to breathe. He did nothing for a moment, and I suspected that he was enjoying the proof of his strength, in having been able to tie me up and bend me over his knee. I wondered briefly what he was going to do next, and he wasn’t long in telling me.
‘So you think you will run out on me on our wedding night, eh?’ He spat out the words. ‘No, my pretty little cock-teaser. You are going nowhere.’
I tried to groan a negative, and shook my head as much as I was able, but he ignored me. I felt his hands scrabbling at the waistband of my panties, and I wiggled furiously. The movements of my hips only made him more lustful, and he wrenched my arms up behind my back, until I groaned in pain. I felt him inch the tight material over the curve of my hips, then down to the tops of my thighs. He left them there, stretched across the satiny backs of my legs, and I felt his breath on the lowest part of my back. I felt a tingling as the downy hairs there stiffened. I relaxed my legs in a gesture of surrender, and felt my thighs open a little.
‘Look at your tight little cunt, Jessica. Did you think you were going to deny me the pleasure of that little honey-pot, after the way you’ve kept me hanging on these last few months? No, my sweet wife. I’m going to have what is mine by right. Relax, and let me show you,’ he said in a gloating whisper.
I knew he could see my sex peeping out at him, and the thought made me attempt to draw my legs together a little. Then I felt his rough fingers pinching the plump flesh of my bottom and I made the first real vocal protest of that evening.
‘No! Leo, no!’ I squealed, but to no avail, for his penis only throbbed even harder against the cool flesh of my waist, and his hands became even more urgent in their plucking at my cheeks. He squeezed and kneaded them, all the while keeping up a whispered litany of praise, for their whiteness, their plumpness, their smoothness.
Then he started to smack me. Not hard, at first. More like he was trying to get to a rhythm and pressure that he liked. I felt my cheeks bouncing loosely under his palm, and I squeezed them tight in shame.
‘That’s it,’ he cried in hoarse excitement, even as I groaned in miserable helplessness, ‘Tighten your arse, my sweet wife. I was going to break you in gently, but now I think you need a rough fuck to get all this silly prick-teasing out of your head. That’s it, you little slut. Squeeze your arse-cheeks. That’s it.’
The blows on my naked buttocks were getting heavier and heavier with each passing moment, and soon the stinging was making me mewl in protest, but he did not stop, as this seemed to be what he wanted to hear. I felt a loose knot of despair begin to draw tight in the pit of my stomach, and soon I was making a high keening noise of distress. Looking back now, I think Leo had convinced himself that this was what I needed, and secretly wanted. I didn’t. Not then.
Long after I had abandoned hope of him ever stopping, and when I could only grunt my soft protest into the covering of the bed, he ceased, and rolled me roughly off his knee. I fell heavily to the floor and he stood up, so that his shadow hung over me. I curled my legs up defensively, and hung my head in shame.
‘Jessica, look at me,’ he demanded, and I forced my chin up in a half-act of defiance. His penis was jerking now, such was the pitch of his arousal, and the sight of the thick stem made my stomach lurch. How had it gone from the fairy tale to this? I wondered in bewildered shame.
‘You’re going to suck my cock now, baby, aren’t you?’ Leo sneered in a cruel voice. His face was set in an expression of icy contempt, and I felt the last of my illusions about him crumble. My eyes filled with tears, as he prodded me up on to my knees with his toe, and told me to stick my bottom out.
‘Arch your back: that’s it,’ he ordered, and I felt the pride in his voice as I moved to obey him.
He grabbed a thick fist of my hair in one hand, and curled it tight so the roots throbbed in sharp protest. His other hand had folded itself around the base of his thick, veiny shaft, and I stared slit-eyed in pain as he brought the glistening end towards my face. A little blob of semen had gathered on the mouth of his engorged penis and he wiped it off casually against my tear-stained cheek. He was a real bastard, and I was just beginning to understand that.
‘Lick my balls, Jessica,’ he suggested crudely, and forced the taut, furry sack against my trembling mouth. I poked the tip of my tongue out, and swallowed my disgust as I did as he said. I will never forget the way he gloated over me as I licked and sucked at his hairy scrotum. When I had tasted every part of it, and it shone with my saliva, he drew my head my head back and looked into my eyes.
He stared at me intently as he said, ‘Now kiss it, my little slut. Kiss the end of my cock.’
I felt the trembling in his thighs as I puckered my reddened lips for the kiss that would seal my humiliation, and heard a great groan escape him as my cool lips met the hot head of his penis. I had closed my eyes in denial, as if this would make the moment less real, so I did not realise at first that something had gone even more wrong. I felt Leo’s hand loosen its grasp in my hair, and felt a glimmer of hope that he had relented. I sensed his shadow fall away from me, and only opened my eyes when I heard the crash of his body hitting the floor beside me. I looked at the tortured working of his face and the purple skin of his upper body, and I realised that he was in distress. I thought it was a heart attack at first, and that was all too much after what had gone before. I felt myself going dizzy, and I struggled to keep consciousness, but at that moment I looked down to where Leo’s thighs were clenched together. His penis, which was even more stretched and reddened than the skin of his face, was spurting out great globs of semen on to the carpet, and my fevered mind could take no more. I retreated into the darkness, and fell, gratefully, into a deep faint.
It is likely that, had I not fainted, I could have summoned help for Leo immediately and his condition might not have been so severe as it turned out to be. As it was, when I eventually regained consciousness and released the ties he had bound around my wrists, it had been over two hours since the seizure had begun. By the time Leo reached hospital and was diagnosed as having had a stroke, there was little that could be done to halt the damage.
A month after our wedding, almost to the day, he returned to our ‘love nest’ paralysed and speechless. Only his eyes moved, tracking my movements and glaring reproachfully, when not reflecting his internal misery. His niece, Antonia, had installed herself in one of the spare bedrooms, and seemed to take great delight in wheeling him around after me like a conscience. Innocent that I was, it did not take me long to realise that his family blamed
me for his condition and had no qualms about making their feelings known. They appeared to believe we had consummated the marriage in too strenuous a fashion, and that this had led directly to Leo’s stroke. The fact that they were partly right made me feel utterly miserable, though a secret part of me congratulated myself on my escape. I discovered over the course of the next two weeks how premature these congratulations were, for his family made no secret of their opinions. I was a ‘gold-digger’ who had tried to murder their beloved Leo with the charms of her body. In desperation, I took to long walks in to the country lanes to get away from the house, and pretend shopping trips up to London. It was less than a week before I realised that they were having me followed.
I found out because of an old habit I had developed, when I wished to watch people I found interesting, without them knowing I was looking. I have always been prone to using the reflections in shop windows to look at people, and it was on the third occasion of seeing the same woman on different occasions, on different days, that I realised something was afoot. At first I thought the stress of the past weeks had affected my judgement, and then, as I idly tested my suspicions while pretending to browse, I became convinced that I was right. I was being followed.
Everywhere I went, the same woman eventually showed up. If I stopped at a café, she would enter a shop across the road. When I went into a shop myself, she would be nearby when I came out. I watched her in shop windows, as she watched me, then turned quickly in time to see her start delving into the leather bag she had slung over her shoulder. In the end, I became annoyed, and stared at her quite boldly. She only glanced up to check I was still there, then pretended to hunt in her bag again. I studied her, as if in answer to her study of me.
She was quite young, around twenty-five, with blonde hair of a shade usually called ‘ash’, and she wore the uniform of faded jeans and a dark sweatshirt. Her hair was held off her face by a pair of sunglasses tucked on to the top of her head. She was quite pretty, in the angular way that Californian pin-ups are. She looked up again, and our eyes met. She held my stare, while drawing an object up to her ear. Her lips began moving before I realised that it was a mobile phone. All through her conversation she continued to stare at me, and my heart was hammering with the anger that started to course through me. She was reporting back, I realised, to whoever had hired her. It could only be Leo’s family. I was furious, and wasted no time getting back to the house.
They were expecting me. Antonia was outside with the ‘conscience’ propped up in his chair and his younger sister standing with folded arms beside her. They smiled cattily as I stormed over to them and demanded, ‘Have you been having me followed?’
‘Have you got something to hide?’ they asked in unison, and laughed in my face.
Leo’s sister, Vivian, stalked over to me, arms still crossed, and stood in front of me with her chin thrust aggressively out. She stood around five and a half feet tall in heels, so I was able to tilt my own chin up and look down the length of my nose at her.
‘You haven’t answered the question,’ I reminded her. ‘Have you had me followed?’
‘And you haven’t answered mine,’ she spat back.
‘Got a guilty secret, have we?’ said Antonia nastily, and sauntered over to us. She is the same height as me, more or less, but not so full of figure. She had the same slightly Mediterranean colouring as her aunt, and her dark eyes flashed with spite as she continued. ‘You don’t seem to have much time for Leo any more. Found someone else to occupy your mind? A new boyfriend, eh?’ she asked in a contemptuous tone.
I was too stunned to reply, and floundered around for a rejoinder, while Vivian took the opportunity to attack.
‘You think you are so clever, don’t you?’ she sneered. ‘With your pretty face and that innocent smile. I know what you want. You think you can have Leo’s money all to yourself now. Well, maybe you have it now, but don’t think you are going to move another man into my brother’s house while he still breathes. You, with your big tits, and your long legs. You tried to kill him with your body, you fucking slut.’
I was bewildered by the ferocity of her attack, and I could barely control my eyes, which wanted to fill up with tears, I tried to swallow the lump in my throat, and for a moment I thought the muscles would fail me, and my throat would close forever. The lump would not go, and I could not speak, so I turned away from them and walked, on shaky legs, to the car that Leo had given me as an engagement present. I fumbled blindly for the keys, and eventually got the car door open enough to clamber in. They were still jeering when I gunned the engine to life and, as I revved the engine to drown the hateful sound of their voices, for one hot moment I thought about driving into the three of them. Shoving the lever into first gear, I released the clutch, and the car spun over the gravel, away from the figures in the rear-view mirror. I kept looking to assure myself that they were really behind me and getting further away; then I began to calm down and forced myself to think. I couldn’t go home to my parents. They would have taken me back, but I wasn’t ready to admit that I needed them, so I went to the only person I could think of who was near.
For that convenient reason, I knocked on the door of Anne’s dress shop, and stood in misery outside until she came to the door.
‘Jessie! What on earth is wrong?’ she said in concern, and the note of tenderness in her voice set me bawling. She pulled me in and locked the door, then sat me down.
‘I’ll make us a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it, love,’ she said, in a motherly way. It seemed entirely natural from her, even though she was no more than five or six years older than myself. We talked for hours over several cups of strong tea, then, when I had told her the full story without going into specifics about the disastrous wedding night, she brought out a bottle of brandy, and proceeded to plumb me for the gory details. She expressed astonishment at my naivete, and amazement at the crudeness of Leo’s lovemaking technique.
‘If I was a man,’ she said, ‘and had a wife as lovely as you, I’d want to take my time with her.’
I looked at her through a tipsy squint. ‘That’s a strange thing for a woman to say,’ I suggested, and she smiled.
‘Not if that woman is a lesbian, Jessie,’ she said, and poured more brandy into my cup.
All at once, a lot of things fell into place.
In the short time I worked for her, I had never heard Anne mention men once, and she always remarked on how pretty such a model was, and what a nice figure another had. In fact, I could see with the benefit of hindsight that a lot of her questions to me in the course of our working day together had been leading questions designed to work out my orientation in that area. Still, she had been quite open to me, and I accepted her statement in the same spirit.
‘I never guessed,’ I said, and hurried to reassure her. ‘I mean, I don’t mind. Sorry. What I meant to say was, it’s not a problem to me.’
‘I’m glad,’ she said, ‘Now, don’t think I’m going to pounce on you, Jessie. I know you are . . . normal.’ Then she laughed, and her head went back, exposing her sinewy throat. She believed she meant it, but I think, deep in her soul, she had already decided to seduce me.
‘Do you want to stay here tonight?’ she asked. ‘There’s a spare room upstairs. We can work out a plan of action in the morning.’
I hesitated, then nodded my head.
She smiled at me, and I suddenly thought how blue her eyes were.
‘I promise not to proposition you,’ she said, and laughed again. ‘Come on, I’ll show you where it is.’ She stood up, and I mimicked her action, though I swayed a little. I had never been able to hold spirits. I followed her up the narrow staircase to the upper floor, noting the decoration as I went. She had a taste for regency colour painted on to plastered walls, and bare floorboards, so the sound of our shoes echoed up from the naked wood.
She was wearing loose-fitting trousers of a thin, black material that drew tight across her hips when she lifted her legs to
climb. I couldn’t see any knickerline, and my mind kept asking, ‘Is she wearing any?’ I shoved the thought away with a flash of panic, and concentrated on her feet. The pink of her heels showed over the backs of her slip-on mules, and I noticed how smooth they were. Like a baby’s. She opened a door on the landing and twisted aside to allow me to pass. Our tummies briefly rubbed, and I jerked away from her, bumping my hip on the doorjamb.
‘Sorry,’ I said, and she stepped in after me.
‘Don’t be nervous, Jessie. I won’t bite you, honest,’ she murmured. She paused at the door, and I waited anxiously for her to do something. She walked over to me and put her hands on my shoulders. For a moment I thought she was going to kiss me, and I knew, in that instant, that I would let her. Instead, she reached up with one hand, and lightly brushed my cheek.
‘Poor, beautiful Jessica,’ she whispered, then let go of me, and returned to the doorway. She turned back to me once, said, ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ and shut the door behind her.
I undressed by the light of the bedroom lamp and, for the first time in my life, I decided to go to bed completely naked. When I had dropped the last garment on to the heap on the bedside table, I stood before the dressing table and stared at myself for ages, mostly at the dark triangle between my thighs. Nervously, my fingers fluttered to the crisp curls, and toyed with them. She had called me beautiful and, because she was a woman, I believed her.
It was such a strange feeling: to slip bare skin against crisp cotton sheets, and feel cool air slip between my legs as I lay down. I pushed my arms out, in a half-drunk yawn, and stretched the muscles in my back and legs. I was tempted to touch myself in the way I had by the mirror, but I knew that once I had started, I would not stop at that. I would do something naughty. Something dirty.
The Young Wife Page 2
