The morning for Cathy passed like a slow eternity, or like a condemned prisoner's final sleepless dawn. Sylvia had cooked them a big breakfast which, though Bob ate heartily to help his hangover, she barely touched. Later she was able to get her husband alone briefly, again she tried to convince him that it was imperative they leave.
"We can't leave," he said. "It's as simple as that. We can't drive the car across the bridge."
"Then we could go without the car?" she'd replied.
"Go where? Honey, you're being foolish."
"Bob," she'd insisted, trying to make her quivering voice sound rational. "It's important for me that we leave. As I said before, if you love me, you will worry about my needs."
"I love you. But we're not going to do something down right silly just because you're getting restless."
"All right," she pouted, almost threateningly.
He stood up and put his hand on her shoulder, like she was a kid. "Look, honey, I'll go down and see if I can jack the car up and push it out of the ditch, like Jack said."
She'd said no more. After he left, she felt almost smug. She kept telling herself, over and over, You asked for it, Bob. I told you so.
She'd gone to the back yard to soak up some Sun. She knew what she should do was go down to the car and get a change of clothing and retrieve her personal things, but she wanted no further confrontation with Bob. He'd had his last chance. Instead she waited, resigned, soaking up the sunshine, not even bothering to go put on her bra and panties, which she hadn't retrieved till this morning. It was sometime after midday when Sylvia came out bearing a tray with two tall Bloody Mary's.
"Hi," the brunette said. "Thought you might enjoy a little refreshment."
Cathy looked suspiciously at the other woman, clad in tight shorts and a skimpy halter that looked like it might give way any moment before her voluptuously straining breasts. Then she smiled a feeble thanks and took one of the tall drinks. The two women sat at the table, drinking silently. It was Sylvia who finally spoke:
"Look kid, make the best of it. You're not exactly trapped in an elevator here. We can make an enjoyable weekend of it if you want to."
"Your idea of enjoyment," Cathy said bitterly.
In spite of apparent effort, Sylvia's smile faded. Again there was a silence.
"Look," Cathy said finally. "You know what's going to happen. You know why I want to go, or why I know we must go, even if we can't, even if maybe I don't want to."
The brunette was looking away, or had looked away the moment Cathy started to speak. And a moment passed before she looked back, smiling very faintly. The tears gradually filled her eyes and spilled and ran in big drops down her cheeks, the smile all the while on her lips. She nodded. "Yes, I know."
"Then why don't you do something about it?" Cathy asked anxiously.
Sylvia shook her head. She took a paper napkin from the tray and dabbed at her eyes. "Honey, there's nothing I can do. Bailey's his own man."
"You mean you're going to just sit by and…?"
"I'm going to… look out for myself, as best I can." She stood up suddenly. "You know where the bar is, and the ice is in the refrigerator. Help yourself… to whatever you want."
Tears still pouring from her eyes, she turned, and walked away, back into the house. Cathy stared after her, wondering if it had been herself she was crying for, or out of sympathy for her and Bob. It must have happened before. They must have done this before, so it must be out of feeling, sorrow or guilt, that she'd cried.
The blonde finished her drink, then drank what had been left in the other woman's glass. Then she rose and walked slowly back into the house, down the hall to the den. When she reached the window she saw Sylvia walking down the road toward the car, which Bob had on the jack. At the bridge she could see Bailey, with a pile of wood he must have carried down by hand. She watched Sylvia and Bob exchange greetings, her touching his arm, standing close to him, inspecting the situation of the car. Then Bob jumped the ditch and took the old board he'd tried to jam under the stuck tire the night before. He motioned Sylvia back away from it. He pushed on the side of the car with the board. It fell off the jack, back onto the road. So that was all, Cathy thought. That was all they would have had to do last night, even in the rain, and none of this would have been happening. Sylvia applauded and Bob got into the car and started it. She opened the door on the other side. She turned and looked back at Bailey. He turned away and disappeared down the bank beside the bridge. She got into the car and slid over very close to Bob. The car crept up the road. It stopped at the barn. After a minute or so the doors opened. Cathy moved back out of the window and peered past the curtain. Bob got out on one side, looking up at the house, almost right at her. Sylvia came around and took his hand. He hesitated, then put his arm around her shoulder. He looked back once more before they walked into the barn.
All right, you bastard, Cathy thought vehemently. She turned from the window, walked to the bar and made herself another Bloody Mary. She went to the kitchen for ice. When she came back she could see Bailey walking this way back up the road. She watched him pass the barn without pausing. She went over and added an inch of Vodka to her drink and sat down on the couch to wait.
She was half-finished with the drink when she heard him enter the front door. She sat with her legs crossed on the couch. revealed halfway up her thigh by the button she'd loosened on the skirt..Her breath was low and hastened, her eyes slightly glazed. Already she could feel the effects of the alcohol, which she'd drunk much too fast, pounding in her brain. She knew that in the long run it wouldn't even do her any good to try to resist what was coming next. It was fore-ordained, she thought, and it had been since Bob had insisted on turning off the road to stop at this old winery, which wasn't even a winery any more. She didn't even know if she wanted to resist, or why she should want to. But she knew that in the end still she would have to fight, even if it did no good. Even if she didn't really want to win.
The sexy young blonde took another long drink of the Bloody Mary. She listened to Bailey's footsteps approaching from the other end of the house. When he came into the den she sat her glass on the small table at the end of the couch and sat, still waiting in the same posture, watching him staring down at her.
The silence was long, thick, the kind of silence they said was cut with knives. He broke it:
"Your husband's down in the barn, fucking my wife."
Cathy recoiled inwardly at the coarse vulgar language, but somehow she almost managed to maintain the composed look on her face. "I don't care," she said. "I hope he enjoys it."
He stood, just inside the door, staring at her as though waiting for her to say something else. She said nothing. She took her drink and sipped it again, now almost nonchalantly. She was trembling all over and yet she wasn't showing it. Through her mind passed a blurred picture of the crazy chain of events.that had filled the last eighteen hours. Everything has changed, she thought oddly amused at the irony. Or at least everything will be changed in a very short time.
"Come on," he said finally. "We're going back to the bedroom."
Somehow she managed a smile. He glared from the doorway, then stalked toward her. She sat, breathlessly waiting. He stood towering over her, and with secret inner fear and relish she let her eyes wander slowly down the length of his body. He bent slightly, slipping his hands past the rounded outsides of each of her breasts to fit them beneath her arms and jerk her suddenly and violently to her feet.
"Oohh!" Cathy gasped, the rough handling serving to jolt her at least part way out of her strange state of complacency.
Then, almost before she'd gotten her balance, Bailey's strong rough hands moved up to seize the material on either side of her dress just at the open neck. In a sudden rapid movement he pulled his hands forcibly apart and the dress split open wide straight down over her still nakedly unencumbered breasts and sleek golden-tanned belly, all the way down to the last button at mid-thigh so the entire front of her body was exposed from her neck to the little sand-blonde triangle of her cunt.
Then he left the dress hanging loose on and open, dropping his hands to his side and stepping back half a pace, his eyes drifting slowly down over the softly inviting nakedness of her flesh, his burning, hungry gaze serving to drum into Cathy's alcohol-logged, emotion-warped consciousness the seriousness of what was happening. Because it wasn't, as she'd been treating it, a dream from which she could awaken at will. It wasn't another of the sex fantasies that had plagued her ever since her first encounter yesterday evening with this brutal beast of a man. It was really happening. Bob was down in the barn… Fucking… Bailey's wife. Bailey was about to fuck her. He was going to do it whether she wanted it or not and with her grasp of that fact came the sudden vivid recollection of the shock and fear she'd experienced last night when she'd first been confronted with the sight of his outlandishly gigantic cock. And now he was really going to shove that big thing all the way into her tight little pussy. He wasn't just going to kiss her or maul her body or finger-fuck her to the very verge of climax. He was going to fuck her, and the sudden wave of fear that gripped Cathy was almost enough to make her collapse.
Then, before she could move to flee or retreat, he seized her wrist, jerking her almost off her feet as he led her away from the couch and started toward the door.
"Noooooo!" Cathy whimpered tearfully. "NO please. Turn me loose!" She tried to stop and found herself skidding on the tile floor, then ceased to skid and again almost fell so she had to fight to regain her balance. Stumbling after Bailey, who walked ahead of her without even looking back, secure in the vice-like grip of his big hand on her slender wrist, she fumbled at the open front of her dress, uselessly clutching it together and noting, almost absently, that though several of the buttons had torn loose, most of them had merely been ripped free of the button holes. But that was small consolation now and she was still whimpering and pleading in protest as Bailey at last reached the door of the guest room, paused and pulled her in front of him and guided her through.
"No, Bailey," She sobbed again, turning to face him. "I don't want it. Not really. I really don't."
"Sure you do, kid. If I didn't know you wanted it you wouldn't even be here."
He released her wrist and seized her shoulders, pulling her near-naked body forcibly against his own and kissing her again brutally on the mouth. And as she parted her lips to receive his tongue, his words, which wouldn't register completely until later, echoed in her ears: If I didn't know you wanted it you wouldn't even be here.
Then just as violently as he'd pulled her to him he shoved her back away, almost to arm's length. He let his eyes again rove down her naked breasts and belly and the soft blondish triangle between her thighs, then with a shove of his wrists he sent her sprawling backwards across the bed.
He turned as she landed and reclined across it, threw the latch on the door and turned back to her. She tried to clutch the dress together in front, staring up at him in immobilized terror from her prone and waiting position. Then he stalked toward her. Gasping, she started to roll on her side, yet before she could move he was upon her, dropping suddenly to his knees at the edge of the bed and pushing her knees out wide apart to completely spread and expose the nakedly pulsing little opening of her cunt.
"Oh no, God nooooo!" Cathy whimpered, raising her head to stare down in utter confusion and horror at the kneeling man who was staring in turn straight up between her thighs. "Don't," she whimpered. "Please don't… look at me… that… down there!"
She still didn't have the slightest idea what Bailey thought he was doing down there. It was like he was making some kind of clinical examination, and somewhere in the delirium of her jumbled mind it occurred to her that in all her secret fantasies of this moment she'd never pictured Bailey on his knees staring up at her cunt from below. Then an even greater shudder wracked her naked body as his hands moved suddenly up her tender inner thighs to seize the flanged hair-lined lips of her pussy and spread them deliciously apart.
"Bailey," the trembling blonde whimpered, "I thought you wanted to fuck me…?"
Seeing the cruel grin that appeared on his lips, she realized she'd said the wrong thing. That wasn't the way she'd meant it.
"I mean, I don't like for you to look at me like that. It makes me feel like you can see inside me."
"I can."
Somehow, in her heightened state of consciousness, the remark took on a significance that stretched almost beyond its limits, as though she were high on a mind-expanding drug. He could see inside her, literally and figuratively. Figuratively, he could see through her. He had seen through her, apparently, that first instant they'd met yesterday afternoon down in the barn. And Bob, by comparison, hadn't even begun to get to know her, during all the months of their engagement, and not even during the four weeks they'd lived together as man and wife.
Then a chill of astonishment and horror shot through her mind as Bailey finally responded to her last remark. "I am going to fuck you, baby. But first I want to try something else. Has that kid who's fucking my wife ever eaten your cunt?"
"Eaten my cunt?" Cathy couldn't even believe her ears.
"Yeah. Eaten your cunt."
Suddenly Cathy felt Bailey's elbows pushing violently out on her thighs from just inside the knees. At the same time she could feel his fingers peeling the lips of her vagina open even wider, and as she cringed in horror and struggled futilely to escape, he suddenly leaned forward over the edge of the bed, shoving his head right up between her open inner thighs until she could feel his hot rasping breath blowing right up into the furrowed opening of her loins.
"Oh noooo!" Cathy whimpered, her buttocks jerking in a spasm in response to the bizarre tickling sensation. And a moment later she was almost mortified from the sheer strangeness and perversion of it all as Bailey's tongue darted lizard-like from his mouth to lick up through the forbidden curls of the hair of her cunt to make titillating contact right on the lustfully spasming little bud of her clitoris.
"Aaayyeeeeee!" Cathy cried in spite of herself, her head flailing wildly from side to side in protest as she stared, gape mouthed, down between her quivering breasts at Bailey's face buried between her thighs. Then again she felt the tongue, limber and moist, slurping softly over her moistly burning flesh, and she thought if she didn't stop him right this minute, in another minute she wouldn't even want to. It felt good. It felt so weird, so exquisite and so perverse she couldn't stand it.
"Nooo, Bailey, nooooo!" she continued to vainly object. "Please don't do it to me."
But even as she argued she could feel the domineering middle-aged male suck the miniature phallus-like bud of her clitoris hungrily into his mouth, his teeth clinging to it tightly as his tongue lashed fiercely over the nerve-ended tip. And the sheer raw sensation was like nothing the aroused and surprised young woman had ever experienced in her life. Her whole body was on fire with the lust that had been building in her so relentlessly ever since they'd come here. Again she remembered the exquisite pleasure she'd achieved the night before, masturbating herself while Bailey sodomized his wife. Instinct told her that would be nothing compared to what she was going to experience before the end of this session with Jack Bailey. Already she could feel the first vague tremblings up in her cervix and belly that only last night had seemed to be the signal of the real explosion and release to come, and if her act of voyeurism had taught her nothing else she'd learned at least that Bailey wasn't a man to rush his sex. This was only the beginning, and though she knew that even still she should be fighting back, she was already on the verge of losing her will to resist.
His hands still clinging to her sensitive inner cunt-lips to hold her treasured vaginal opening splayed wide apart before his face, Bailey shoved his elbows further up between Cathy's knees, rocking forward on the bed to push her legs back so her thighs almost cushioned down on her breasts and her buttocks and the whole naked plane of her loins was completely turned up toward his face. Again he nipped at the swollen, dilated bud of the quivering little clitoris. He flicked his tongue once more from his lips, dragging it slowly straight along the length of her openly moistened little pussy slit. As she whimpered and moaned on the bed he drew his face back for one last quick look up into the pink mysterious depths of her loins, then in a swift and aggressive motion he drove his tongue straight up between her pussy lips and far up into her quaking vagina.
"Oh God!" Cathy cried out, her hands moving up to tear violently at her hair as she felt the limber slithering length of Bailey's tongue move like a crawling creature up through the sensitive inner folds of her flesh. For a moment she was so overcome by the sheer sensation of it that she couldn't even move or speak. It was so strange and delicious, so perverse and humiliating, so gentle and soft and yet so powerful in the effect it was having on her. Rape she could have fought, but this, how could a woman, even a normally decent and respectable woman like herself, be expected to fight against something like this? It was just more than she could stand. Yet even so she managed to retain some remnant of decency for a few moments longer. Then Bailey withdrew his tongue and plunged it swiftly back in again, and that sudden sawing type sensation was more than she could stand. Her body quivered as though in torment on the bed. Her thighs clasped tightly shut around Bailey's ears. Her eyes opened wide, her nostrils flared, her mouth hung slack. Then in utter surrender she cried:
"Yess! Yesssssss! Do it to me. Do it to me like that. Eat my cunt!"
For a moment Bailey almost hesitated, jolted himself by the vociferous surrender. But he knew he had this hot young bitch exactly where he wanted her now and determined to seize his advantage, he began to slaver his tongue quickly in and out of her flowering vagina for several seconds, then suddenly withdrew it, at the same time pushing down harder on her thighs to jack her buttocks even higher into the air. He leered down in gaping triumph at the succulently parted lips of her cunt and, now visible beneath it, the brown-puckered hole of her anus. His tongue darted again from her mouth, swiping the length of the hair-lined slit of her cunt. Then suddenly and without warning he flicked it right over the thin little fleshy membrane at the bottom of her pussy and thrust it straight up between the cheeks of her ass onto the cringing aperture of her anus.
The virginal-looking blonde's eyes sprang open wide and she stared up in muted confusion at the ceiling. My God, what was he doing down there anyway? She knew what it was of course, though she hardly even dared admit it to herself. He was licking her asshole, worming his tongue straight up between her buttocks and into that most forbidden and sensitive little opening, and in spite of all her revulsion and for the contempt she knew she should have for him at demeaning himself in this manner, all she really felt was a weird and heretofore unknown, unimagined physical pleasure. My God, she thought, it was strange and maddening and terrible and wonderful all at the same time.
"Ooowwweee!" Cathy wailed aloud as the bizarre contact of his tongue on her erotically stimulated anus became even more intense. Chills of shivering magnificence darted up and down her spine and her mind was an eerie panorama of lurid visions as the plunging tongue wormed farther and farther up into the warmly yielding passage of her ass. Her slender young body writhed uncontrollably on the bed as the overpowering assault continued. Spasms of delight rippled through her loins and belly in a torrent of sensual pleasure that gripped her body and soul.
Down between Cathy's scissoring thighs, Bailey immersed himself shamelessly in his task. He knew right now this innocent little bitch must think of him as some kind of creep or pervert. She must loathe him to the bottom of her heart, and yet she couldn't help responding on a sheer physical level to the raw sensation to which he was subjecting her. It was an object lesson he was quite sure she would never forget, and though now he was on the verge of suffocating in her genital warmth and down between her freely perspiring thighs, he forced himself to continue his assault a few more precious moments, pushing himself until he sensed she was really on the verge of losing all control of her body.
Then with a sudden little pop he jerked his tongue free of the acrid-tasting little opening of her ass. He swiped it again straight up the now freely moistened hair-fringed slit of her cunt, again clamping his teeth hard over the erect pink bud of her clitoris.
"Oh!" Cathy screamed in a sudden shimmering contortion on the bed. "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my Goddddd!"
Then he released the pink little nibblit and raised suddenly up, mixed saliva and flowing vaginal lubricant dripping from his lips and chin as he glared down at the prone, trembling young woman.
"Oh Bailey," she whimpered, shaking her head from side to side. "I can't stand anymore. I really can't."
He grinned, reaching down to undo his belt and unbutton his trousers, opening his fly and pushing his boxer shorts down so that his cock sprang free. And his smile only broadened as he saw the new fear that suddenly appeared in Cathy's wide blue eyes.