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CHAPTER 4
Allison Crocker tugged irritably at the chain locked around her throat. Damn, it was hot! Stifling! She never imagined you could be naked and still get so hot and sweaty. The shadow was only halfway across the room – hours yet until dark. The chain was long enough to give her full access to any part of the bedroom, including the adjoining bath. It would be no trouble at all to walk over and open the windows. Hell, it would be no trouble at all to walk over to the thermostat and flick on the air conditioner. But she dared not. Everything in the room, including the furniture, was off limits. That was why she was sitting on the floor. Dripping in sweat
Worse than the heat though, was the boredom.
Her year at the Bird’s Nest may have been utter hell, but it was never boring. If she wasn’t waitressing - prancing around in scanty outfits and platform shoes with the ridiculously high soles, being groped by every lesbian patron with the price of a beer – she was perched on the rickety wooden crate that served as a stage, writhing to the scratchy music while dozens of hungry female eyes watched her strip down to nothing but those shoes.
The floor, the stage, or the curtained alcove where she went to make feverish love to any dyke with twenty bucks. That was her life at the Bird’s Nest. Hell – hell beyond her wildest imagining. But not boring.
The only thing she retained from her days at the Bird’s Nest was the shoes. And the countless tricks she had been forced to learn, perfect and perform behind the curtain in the alcove. But those she kept secret. Now her days were spent chained to the foot of an old dyke’s bed.
She was about to pull again at the chain when suddenly she heard the tromp of boots just outside the door. Her hand slipped instantly to her sex.
The door knob turned.
No!
No! No! No!
She pulled her hand away. There was no one outside the door. It was purely her imagination.
It began months ago as a device to arouse herself to fool Connie into thinking Allison desired her. To effect this, Allison fantasized about handsome, muscle-bound men come to rescue her; only, in the act of rescue, finding her naked and helpless and so desirable, they could not resist throwing her on the bed and making passionate love.
It was merely an expediency. That’s all. But somehow the expediency had become a practice, which in time had become a need.
But what else was there to think about? The fact that somewhere out beyond the walls of this room her youngest daughter was about to turn four and some other woman was making preparations for the party? Her oldest daughter would soon be starting second grade and that other woman was taking her shopping for school clothes? Was that what she was supposed to be thinking about? Wondering what she looked like, this other woman her daughters were probably calling “mommy”? Just the thought made her curl into a ball and weep so bitterly she ached.
Given the fact there were no interruptions or distractions, given that her existence was spent in a virtual sensory deprivation tank, her sexual fantasies could become remarkably vivid, so vivid in fact that realty dissolved and fantasy came to life. But when she reached an orgasm – orgasms that were always small and maddeningly unfulfilling, the fantasies would dissolve and reality would barge in.
A sweltering tank. Damn, it was hot!
The tromp of the boots was louder now, right outside the door. Allison was about to banish the fantasy again when suddenly the door shattered.
He was standing there, in the tattered doorway, bathed in a golden light. He was new; different from the others, coarser; more animal. Over one eye was a black patch. His smile held a measure of contempt. “I see you are pleased I am here,’ he said, with a sneer, nodding to the hand that was stroking her shaved vagina. Allison gasped in shame and yanked her hand away. He strode in. Arms folded across his massive chest, he loomed over her. His skin glistened with sweat. Beneath his tights his immense erection throbbed.
Instinctively, Allison’s eyes went to the chain that depended from her neck and coiled to the floor.
“Sorry, my little pet,” he said with a laugh, “But I have no desire to rescue you.”
To her surprise, Allison discovered she had clambered onto the bed of her own accord. Her thighs were open and her bald sex wantonly displayed.
He snorted with derision. “Nor do I have any interest in that,” he said, indicating her wet and pulsing cunt. He reached down and his strong, rough hands took hold of her ankles and with one quick motion her belly was on the bed. “This,” he said, pulling her legs even wider open, “This is what I came for.”
Allison gasped and tried to scramble away but his grip was like a vice. She could feel his weight descend upon her, feel his breath, hot against her neck.
“Sorry, my pet”, he said, his voice resonant with lust, “But this will hurt.”
With all her might she tried to flee, but it was hopeless, he was too strong, his need too demanding. She gasped when his fire-hot cock pressed against her anus. Then, with a single fierce thrust, he pierced her.
“What are you doing on the bed!”
It was Connie. Allison was surprised to find the room was dark. She wanted to respond, but she could not. She was lost in the grips of a relentless orgasm.
The shadow was not yet halfway across the floor. Allison was naked. The room was sweltering and she was covered in sweat. Four days had passed and though the welts had diminished, the flesh of her back still stung from the beating Connie had given her. It had been an awful night. The precarious routine she and Connie worked so hard to maintain had come unhinged and had almost been shattered. For two days Connie had been wild-eyed, pacing back and forth in front the phone for hours, threatening to end it all, threatening to call Maxine. Allison spent the same hours on the floor on her knees begging Connie to forgive her, swearing her undying love, assuring Connie that the vicious beating had been not only well deserved, but appreciated.
Only last night had the routine returned to a semblance of normalcy.
Normalcy?
And now Allison sat naked on the floor, eyes affixed to the door, aching for the one-eyed stranger to return.
The orgasm she had experienced was beyond description, and now her ass throbbed at the memory of it. The need was upon her like a raving thirst. Still, no matter how hard she stared at the door, how vigorously she stroked her pussy, the stranger would not return.
No matter. Allison knew that even if he did, it would not be enough - fantasy would no longer suffice. Allison wanted more than anything to be fucked in the ass. Fucked in the ass for real. She needed it as much as she needed breath. But how? Who?
She had no answer to the first question, but there was only one possible answer to the second – Connie.
Allison turned her gaze away from the door and began working on her plan.
That night when Connie staggered in so drunk she could hardly walk, Allison greeted her with even more enthusiasm than usual, adding more honey to her voice and more bounce to her breasts. Allison did not coax her straight to bed, instead, took her time, stringing her efforts out, stalling to give the numbing effects of the alcohol time to wear off . She wanted Connie to feel the full impact of what she was about to do.
When finally Connie was in bed Allison went after her wrinkled old cunt with a fervor, nipping and nibbling at it, teasing and toying until the usually near-lifeless Connie was gasping with desire. Employing some of the skills she had perfected in the curtained alcove, Allison drove the old woman to ever higher plateaus of arousal, bringing her again and again to the brink of orgasm, but always pulling back at the last instant. And when the wrinkled old pussy was hot as a furnace, gushing juice, throbbing with desire and on the very lip of eruption, Allison shoved her slathering wet tongue all the way up it and sucked madly.
Connie nearly died.
Later, just before Connie collapsed into a deep sleep, Allison snuggled up tight to her, rubbing her pert young breasts up and down against the woman’s old and sagging ones and whispered into her ear: “Tomorrow, come home early. We can go dancing.”
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