beautiful for you. I know that my purpose is to serve you...to obey you in all things.”
“At the end of the night, you threatened to call the police if I didn’t leave your house.”
Now, she realized that she should have called them. She should have had this cruel bastard taken away in handcuffs, put in jail. She remembered thinking at the time what an obscene filthy pig he was. His dark, ugly features...the way he stared at her...the sour smell of him. His presence in her lovely home defiled it. She should have phoned the police. She glanced at him and saw that his anger was building. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry. I was spoiled and ignorant.”
The memory of that evening caused him to clench his fists. His face reddened. “You felt superior...you were giving Abul orders...making him seem weak and small. I will never forgive that. I will spend the rest of my life making you pay for it.” Suddenly he slapped her across the face with such force that she fell backward. He half rose out of his chair. Then, regaining his composure, sat down. She lay at his feet, the tears spilling from her eyes. “That’s what you need,” he growled. “We both know that’s what you need, don’t we, Mrs. Ryan?”
“Yes,” she managed to whisper, “that’s what I need. You have taught me to understand what I need.”
He nudged her breast with his bare foot. “Now, goddamn you, I want you to prove what you said about that foolish word ‘love’. I want you to say it. Say it many times and you better goddamn mean it! I want to see you demonstrate this love. Show me in ways you never showed your husband... Convince me, Mrs. Ryan, that this is not a game. Convince me that you mean it. Prove to me that your greatest aspiration is to be worthy of the title, ‘Abul’s American Whore’. If you fail, believe me, I will watch your tits whipped until they run with blood!” He half rose out of his chair. She thought he intended to drag her down to the punishment room.
She forced back a cry of despair. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She emptied her mind of everything except the thought of survival. She stretched out on the floor and inched toward his feet. “I...I...love you,” she whimpered, “I...love you, love you, Abul, my husband.” He sat down. She continued, “Love you...love you...” She reached out and held his ankles. “Let me show you...please...please...” Like a hungry dog she began to lick his toes slavishly. She whimpered and moaned. She sucked his toes and licked between them, and then with the flat of her tongue, in a desperate frenzy, she licked the crusted bottoms of his calloused feet until they were soaked with her saliva, all the while continuing to whimper and moan. As she groveled at the feet of Abul, she felt a hollowness in her stomach and the downward rush of what seemed like liquid electricity. Her vagina, she knew, was oozing with her secretions.
The overwhelming intensity of this feeling confounded her. Her body’s response to the man who helped to murder Jeff was inconceivable, a betrayal of everything she knew and felt. She abhorred Abul with all of her intellect, her emotions, her spirit, but her body kept deceiving her. She felt her nipples stiffen and, as her tongue darted between his vile smelling toes, she began to grind her cunt against the rug, rotating her hips lasciviously, feeling an orgasm beginning to build.
Later, when she had time to think of this particular encounter, she would be deeply troubled. Abul was, unquestionably, an ignorant, filthy, sadistic monster. She had every reason to hate him and wish him dead. She did hate him and would, if it were possible, have killed him. And yet, when she touched her lips to his dirty toes or to his rancid cockhead, when she felt his fingers cruelly twist her swollen nipples, and when she heard herself call him ‘husband’, the lightning shocks that caused her center to tingle and burn filled her with a desire she had never
“At the end of the night, you threatened to call the police if I didn’t leave your house.”
Now, she realized that she should have called them. She should have had this cruel bastard taken away in handcuffs, put in jail. She remembered thinking at the time what an obscene filthy pig he was. His dark, ugly features...the way he stared at her...the sour smell of him. His presence in her lovely home defiled it. She should have phoned the police. She glanced at him and saw that his anger was building. “I’m sorry. Truly, I’m sorry. I was spoiled and ignorant.”
The memory of that evening caused him to clench his fists. His face reddened. “You felt superior...you were giving Abul orders...making him seem weak and small. I will never forgive that. I will spend the rest of my life making you pay for it.” Suddenly he slapped her across the face with such force that she fell backward. He half rose out of his chair. Then, regaining his composure, sat down. She lay at his feet, the tears spilling from her eyes. “That’s what you need,” he growled. “We both know that’s what you need, don’t we, Mrs. Ryan?”
“Yes,” she managed to whisper, “that’s what I need. You have taught me to understand what I need.”
He nudged her breast with his bare foot. “Now, goddamn you, I want you to prove what you said about that foolish word ‘love’. I want you to say it. Say it many times and you better goddamn mean it! I want to see you demonstrate this love. Show me in ways you never showed your husband... Convince me, Mrs. Ryan, that this is not a game. Convince me that you mean it. Prove to me that your greatest aspiration is to be worthy of the title, ‘Abul’s American Whore’. If you fail, believe me, I will watch your tits whipped until they run with blood!” He half rose out of his chair. She thought he intended to drag her down to the punishment room.
She forced back a cry of despair. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She emptied her mind of everything except the thought of survival. She stretched out on the floor and inched toward his feet. “I...I...love you,” she whimpered, “I...love you, love you, Abul, my husband.” He sat down. She continued, “Love you...love you...” She reached out and held his ankles. “Let me show you...please...please...” Like a hungry dog she began to lick his toes slavishly. She whimpered and moaned. She sucked his toes and licked between them, and then with the flat of her tongue, in a desperate frenzy, she licked the crusted bottoms of his calloused feet until they were soaked with her saliva, all the while continuing to whimper and moan. As she groveled at the feet of Abul, she felt a hollowness in her stomach and the downward rush of what seemed like liquid electricity. Her vagina, she knew, was oozing with her secretions.
The overwhelming intensity of this feeling confounded her. Her body’s response to the man who helped to murder Jeff was inconceivable, a betrayal of everything she knew and felt. She abhorred Abul with all of her intellect, her emotions, her spirit, but her body kept deceiving her. She felt her nipples stiffen and, as her tongue darted between his vile smelling toes, she began to grind her cunt against the rug, rotating her hips lasciviously, feeling an orgasm beginning to build.
Later, when she had time to think of this particular encounter, she would be deeply troubled. Abul was, unquestionably, an ignorant, filthy, sadistic monster. She had every reason to hate him and wish him dead. She did hate him and would, if it were possible, have killed him. And yet, when she touched her lips to his dirty toes or to his rancid cockhead, when she felt his fingers cruelly twist her swollen nipples, and when she heard herself call him ‘husband’, the lightning shocks that caused her center to tingle and burn filled her with a desire she had never
Similar Books
