Julia’s eyes bulged when she felt the bottleneck of the wine bottle penetrate her vagina. The man planned to kill her, she had no doubt.
He’ll humiliate me and rape me then kill me, if he doesn’t choke me to death first. Please, Lord, let me die now!
But the chain slackened around her neck, just as the bottle pressed deeper, spilling its chilled contents deep inside. While the glass was slick, Julia’s feminine area remained dry. And the deeper the bottle went, the more her vagina stretched. She’d never been stretched so wide and she imagined herself tearing open.
Gasping for breath, she went to shove up from the cot. But before she could a booted foot planted itself on the back of her neck and forcing her down with no leverage and no ability to fight back. Though she struggled, Julia soon recognized the futility in the effort.
She expected, after the humiliation of the bottle insertion, it’s removal and her immediate rape. She sobbed in horror at this inaccurate assumption. When his erection prodded against the tight opening of her anus, Julia screamed louder than she’d ever screamed in her life.
She screamed that she hated the man, she hated Chad, she hated the Lord above. She’d never been with two men simultaneously and had most definitely, despite an occasional man’s suggestion they try anal sex, never accepted a penis in her ass.
Yet here she found herself, kidnapped, double penetrated, abused, anally and vaginally violated in someone’s makeshift dungeon. And all she could do was take it.
He pounded her down on the cot, mashing breasts, stretching her vagina out of shape. And…
Raping my goddamn asshole!
He finished by ejaculating in Julia’s ass. Then he removed the bottle and tugged up his pants. He retrieved the stemware and corkscrew and as he headed out of the room, Julia sobbed. “I can’t believe you raped me.”
“We were in love. I can’t believe you ran around on me.” Before leaving he added, “I knew about David but not about Chad. You’re a piece of work, Sharon. A real bitch.”
Chapter 4
What had gone wrong? Everything had seemed so good, so right. But it had all been a ruse. An elaborate joke designed for heartbreak.
I love you so much. I’d do anything for you. I cannot live without you.
But the same loving voice had also uttered the following words:
Punish me, baby. I need to be taught a lesson. Ohh… Yes! Make it hurt so good. I like it.
It all seemed so confusing. Great times. Loving times. Followed by bratty days. Days she seemed not to want him around. Days she seemed more content in the company of other men. Days which seemed specifically designed to rile him up for her own benefit.
Had the other relationships simply been friendships? And if so…
Why did she shun me during those times? Or the days thereafter?
Her actions were enough to warrant paranoia in all but the most uncaring men, or so he assumed. Had it not been for the fact that when things were working well between them, everything seemed perfect. And then, on those off days, Dr. Jekyll turned to Miss Hyde. It seemed to go beyond typical female moodiness. Each time felt as if she’d decided to drop him in favor of another man. And then, when she came crawling back to him, it seemed as if she’d turned traitor, a double-agent in the war of love, where, as they say, all is fair.
Except it’s not the least bit fair. Not like this.
The man kicked the bucket, sending sudsy water flying. Dogs barked and one well-splashed canine tucked tail and ran.
“Sorry, girl. Didn’t mean to take it out on you.”
He’d buffed out the paint marks on the heavy-duty steel bumper and was finishing washing the truck, his pride and joy. A restored and modified ’45 Dodge Power Wagon, which featured a turbo-powered diesel engine, custom crew cab, and 37” mud tires. He’d done much of the work himself, years ago, with the old man providing an extra pair of hands when needed.
With a chamois towel, he went to work drying the rig. As he did so he reflected on another time…
Baby, you know David doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s you I love.
He’s your best friend. Said so yourself.
Exactly. We are simply friends.
Except he didn’t buying it. David had ulterior motives and if Sharon couldn’t see it, well, subconsciously she perpetuated a fraud, because he saw exactly where this was headed. David, the tenacious little worm, would refuse to back off as long as Sharon gave him the time of day. Incentive to continue. And Sharon, needing a shoulder to cry on each time he did something wrong, would always run first to David.
Hell, the man thought as he polished a headlamp, even a perfect man is apt to fail in the eyes of a woman every once in a while. And then there’s David, waiting in the wings, to express his skewed opinion about what an asshole I am, and how Sharon would be better off with someone else. Implying himself, of course.
The man wanted to kick such cocksuckers in the mouth, make them eat their own words. Women like Sharon had no idea what trash these guys talked, because the trash these guys spoke applied to them as much as anyone. Perhaps more.
He finished washing and drying the truck. Next time he’d wax it. While he loved the machine, had rebuilt it decades ago, he realized the vehicle, much like himself, held little appeal to most people. But those who understood it truly appreciated what they beheld.
And so, he beheld the love that he and Sharon had once shared, decades ago.
After gathering up the bucket, sponge, chamois, and liquid detergent, he placed them in their respective places within the exterior garage, as he considered the farm implement shed to be. The actual attached garage contained his daily driver, a sedan he used to drive to his welding job in town.
He found it irksome that a woman who supposedly loved him shunned him once he’d tracked her down and brought her safely home, back to her one true love.
He’d found her where he lost her, on that lonely stretch of road, and yet she’d screamed, rebuffed his efforts of affection, claimed she didn’t know him. A dagger to the heart wouldn’t hurt as much. In fact, he wished she had stabbed him in the heart. Then and only then would he know how she truly felt.
Love me or kill me, bitch. I can’t take not knowing.
Not knowing… Perhaps she, being a typical, confused female, didn’t truly know herself. Hmm… David is always there for me, but so is my boyfriend. They both love me but sometimes I need time apart from my love.
She’d mentioned that a time or two. It rang like bullshit to the ears. Granted, she spent more time with him than with David. Which, ultimately, offered less time for David to screw up and more time for him to screw up.
Basically, he thought, when she doesn’t get her way, she seeks the shoulder of someone who will kiss her ass. David will kiss her ass, because he wants something he doesn’t currently have. While I, her boyfriend back then, had no reason to do so when she was acting bratty.
Whatever. He didn’t care, or so he told himself. He should wash the other car but didn’t want to bother. Let it remain filthy. Let it rust. Let it disintegrate into dust, it didn’t really matter. Such vehicles came cheaply and easily. He’d bought it for little of nothing, replaced a few gaskets, belts, and hoses, flushed and replaced fluids, swapped out a couple of parts, basically gave the old girl a little time and attention. And now it seemed happy to drive him to work each day.
Of course, the bitch should shit on him first chance she got. Leave him stranded at the worst possible time. But that was to be expected. When that day came, he’d fix the car.
Just like he’d fix Sharon.
Chapter 5
Julia wept on the cot, exhausted and abused and nearly hopeless. She sat staring at the breakfast the man had brought down hours ago. A fried egg sandwich with cheese and cup of coffee. He’d left a tray sitting on the dresser.
You really should have forced it down, Jules. You need to keep up your energy, on the off chance you can make an escape.
What a jok
e. There’d be no opportunity for escape, not while shackled to a concrete wall. As a teen her father had needed to tow the car she’d bought working a fast food job. He’d used a chain to tow the beater, a chain about as thick as the one securing her to the wall. She recalled him ribbing her about having been dead-set on buying that car. F-O-R-D: Fix Or Repair Daily, he’d said.
And now she was in a fine fix. Chad would be checking out of the hotel soon, perhaps sticking it to Miss Texas one last time. Had he tried to text message her this morning? Knowing him, probably not. He’d stay up late, sleep in even later. Perhaps order room service. Then scramble to vacate the room before checkout time.
He’ll probably hobnob with his new art friends before heading home. He might message me first, just to test the waters, see if I’ve cooled my jets since last night. But…
But when he received no reply, he’d find something else to occupy his time. Perhaps meet his buddy Eric who ran the picture and frame shop in the town where they lived. Chad had been trying to convince Eric to offer original works from local artists in his shop. Chad would need to sell anything he couldn’t unload last night at the art exhibit.
Stop worrying about what Chad may or may not do, Julia told herself. Worry about yourself.
She had tested the length of the chain earlier and found that at full extension her fingertips barely brushed the doorknob. Even if she’d been able to turn the knob, she knew it wouldn’t help. A deadbolt engaged from the opposite side secured her prison cell.
And what about the man’s obvious delusional state?
He called me Sharon. Who the hell is Sharon? And why the hell would he want to drag her down to the basement and chain her to a wall?
The answer seemed obvious.
Because he’s a lovesick psycho who can’t get his jollies any other way. He’s— Julia heard footsteps descending the staircase. He’s coming!
She sat, knees drawn up to her chin, when he entered.
“How are y—” he started before noticing the untouched tray on the dresser. “Goddamn it, you haven’t eaten.”
“I wasn’t hungr—”
The man strode to the dresser and hurtled the tray in her direction. Coffee splattered while the ceramic mug crashed against a wall. The sandwich went flying and the plate shattered on the floor. The tray nearly hit Julia but she batted it away.
“You never appreciate anything I do for you,” the man yelled. “Perfectly good food gone to waste. Same as the wasted wine last night. Or was it a waste?”
Julia recalled being raped with the bottle and its contents poured inside her with a chilling fear.
“Answer me, goddamn it! You rather fuck a bottle than fuck me? You rather be raped than make love? Answer me, goddamn it,” he crossed the room, hand drawn back ready to slap her.
“No-no-no! I don’t. I didn’t. It’s not like that at all!”
“Lying bitch!”
Julia threw up hands but his open palm smacked her mouth anyway.
“It’s written all over your face. You prefer David’s sweet embrace, his loving cock. You only come back to me because you like it rough.” The hand smacked her again and again, backhanded her with knuckles. “That asshole can’t give it to you like you need. And you don’t realize I can give you what you want, the best of both worlds.”
“No, I only want you,” Julia said out of desperation. “Not David, just you.”
“Only me?” The man stopped slapping her and instead combed hair away from her face.
“Just you,” Julia said, tears streaming. “Please, don’t hit me.”
“You don’t call the shots. I do.” A hand snapped out of nowhere to smack Julia sideways. She tasted blood. Another swat caught an ear and made it ring. “I call the goddamn shots. Especially when you don’t appreciate what I do for you.”
“Please! No!”
“Oh, yes…”
He grabbed a fistful of hair and dragged her roughly from the cot. She landed on hands and knees, sending shooting pain into her legs. Then, as Julia scrambled to crawl away, he stomped down on the rattling chain and stopped her cold. A boot planted in her back forced her down, shoulders to concrete. Screaming and crying, Julia sensed motion behind her, although she couldn’t see what the man was doing. His actions became clear with the snap of a belt.
“Time for the brat to learn her lesson,” he said.
Julia’s skirt lifted just before a snap of leather cracked across her ass. She’d been whipped with a belt once, years ago as a child. Her father had given her a whipping she’d never forget. He’d landed three swats across the ass for not having listened to her mother. She’d stayed out too late, past dark, past dinner, after having been warned not to do so the previous evening. She’d been caught by a neighbor lifting her skirt to show a neighbor boy her panties and she’d cried and cried at having let down her parents and having received such pain inflicted upon her by an angry father.
But that didn’t compare to this whipping.
“When. I. Bring. Food. For. You…” A lash of the belt punctuated each word. “I. Expect. You. To. Eat.”
“I’m sorry! I will! I will!”
“You. Will. Not. Run. Away. Again.”
“Stop!” Julia’s buttocks burned and she felt the swelling and bursting of skin. “You’ll kill me.”
“I’ll. Never. Kill. You. Baby.” Belt lashes moved higher, to the small of her back. “But. You. Must. Learn. Your. Lesson.” The belt traveled the length of her back, until leather snapped across shoulder blades.
Julia, now writhing in pain but unable to escape the madness, shouted, “Stop! I’ll do anything.”
The man, winded from exertion, stopped whipping her to utter the same phrase Julia’s father had uttered: “This pains me more than it does you.”
The hell it does! Julia’s mind screamed.
“Okay,” the man said. “I’ll give you a choice. Either kiss me long and passionately, with much emotion and show me how much you love me.”
Or… Julia thought as her body trembled on the floor. She could never do that.
“Or put your smart mouth to good use, like the bratty, lying cocksucker you are.”
It took a moment for Julia to collect herself enough to rise to her knees.
I hope you’re satisfied, Chad. This one’s on you.
With shaky hands, Julia unfastened the man’s jeans and freed his penis.
Chapter 6
The truck crawled through the alley to stop beside a small house set behind another, much larger house. It had been someone’s idea of a guest house in a small town where people rarely had guests. Perhaps someone’s mother-in-law had once lived there. Sharon didn’t know and hadn’t given it much thought. Her father simply rented the place for them live in, now that her mother had left.
The house offered all they needed: small living room, eat-in kitchen, two bedrooms with a full bath between. It was late and Sharon expected the underage girl her father had been fucking would be gone. It made her ill to think he’d fuck someone nearly her own age. She knew he really wished her mother had taken Sharon with her when she ran off. But she hadn’t. And now he sowed wild oats in the small house he shared with his daughter. And Sharon enjoyed the days her father didn’t come home at all. She much preferred those days to the days with giggling and moaning females in the other room.
The truck backfired when Sharon’s boyfriend killed the engine.
“Sorry,” he said. “Hope I didn’t wake anyone.”
“So what if you did?”
“Just sorta embarrassing is all,” he said as he opened his door and stepped out. Sharon, who had been riding beside him in the middle of the bench seat, slid out on his side. “I’m going to rebuild this heap, you’ll see,” he said as he took her by the hand to walk her to the door.
A porch light burned – she had switched it on before leaving, earlier – and they stopped at the stoop for a kiss.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sharon sa
id. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Sharon. You’re all I think about.”
“You also think of that old truck,” Sharon ribbed with a grin.
“A guy needs wheels.” He returned the grin. “But you know what I mean. Sharon, you’re the only girl on my mind. I’m crazy about you.”
Sharon smiled wide. The smile turned seductive. Next thing she knew he had her pressed against the front door, hands roaming her body, lips sealed in a passionate kiss. They’d made love earlier and yet her body still wept for him. She wanted more. In fact, could never get enough.
But she knew the lingering kiss couldn’t last.
She gently broke away and said, “It’s past your curfew. You’ll get in trouble if you don’t leave right now.”
He glanced at his watch. “Technically I’m already late. It’s past one but you’re right. If I leave now, I’ll be okay.”
He stole a kiss and patted her rump before jogging back to the truck. She unlocked the door and, opening it a crack, turned to watch him start the engine. She waved as headlights flared to life and the truck pulled away. It turned left at the end of the block.
She closed the door and locked it again, staying outside. The sound of his old truck could be heard in the distance. Louder and more closely she heard the crunch of gravel. Another, newer truck approached from the direction her boyfriend’s truck had left.
David stopped and pushed open the passenger door for Sharon to climb in. She did and slid over beside David.
“I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes,” he said.
“Sorry. He didn’t want to leave.”
“Sounds like him. Only thinks of himself.”
David pressed a button on the stereo and Aerosmith’s “Angel” began to play.
“Our song,” Sharon thought aloud.
“You’re my angel,” David reminded her as he draped an arm over her shoulders.
He put the truck in gear and pulled away.
Insanity Road Page 3
