Chapter 9

Exhaustion weighed down Vivienne’s eyelids. She rested on her hip on the floor at Daniel’s feet with her head propped against his knee and her arm wrapped loosely around his calf. He sat on the couch, vigilantly watching the television as the light of dawn made the sky glow a deep, oceanic blue. Cecilia slept with her head on his thigh while he absently stroked her hair.

“I’m going to be honest with you,” Daniel said in a low, almost stuporous voice that betrayed his fatigue, bringing Vivienne’s head around. “I don’t like our chances.”

“But, you said-”

The look on his face cut her off. It wasn’t an angry look, but one filled with resignation and regret. He glanced at the nude teen sleeping in his lap and shook his head.

“Sooner or later, they’re getting in here. I thought they’d come hours ago, but it’s obvious now what they’re doing.” He read her unspoken question. “Do you know what persistence hunting is?”

Vivienne shook her head, but the phrase was provocative enough that she could guess its meaning.

“It’s how ancient humans used to hunt. They followed their prey until it was too exhausted to run anymore and just lied down, accepting its fate. That’s what they’re doing to us. They’re wearing us down, Vivienne, and soon we’re going to lie down, and then they’ll come.”

The mental image his words evoked filled her with dread and despair. Her eyes glassed over, blurring her vision. In a gesture of uncharacteristic empathy, he stroked her hair.

“I told you,” he said, turning back to the television. “Not knowing when they’ll come is the hardest part. I’ve been watching them for hours. They’re sleeping in shifts. An hour or two at a time to stay fresh. They might come this morning, or they might wait again until nightfall. They know that time is on their side.”

“How?” Vivienne whined, sounding like a child.

“Because, no one came to help us. If we could have contacted the authorities, we would have done it a long time ago. They know they have us trapped in here.” He sighed deeply. “It’s only a matter of time.”

As his words sank in, they brought with them a shroud of hopelessness. She wept into his leg and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and let it happen. She wanted it to be over. All the adrenaline-fueled bravado and excitement from earlier had sapped her reserves, not to mention the brutal whipping she’d endured, the sting of which still lingered whenever she shifted her weight on the cold, hard floor.

Daniel lifted Cecilia’s head off his leg and slid out from beneath her, rousing her in the process. She grumbled a protest, but was too tired to bother opening her eyes. Within moments, she was asleep again.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said, stretching his arms over his head. “Make me some coffee.”

“Why don’t I come with you?” she offered, but he drew his eyebrows together.

“I don’t think so. Get the coffee on and then watch the monitor, and don’t even think about touching yourself while I’m gone. I’ll know.”

Vivienne lowered her eyes and shook her head. “I won’t, I promise.”

He slowly nodded then shouldered the rifle and trudged upstairs. She struggled getting to her feet. Her body screamed in protest. Not just because of her tender ass and thighs. It came from everywhere. She was covered in bruises, her jaw ached from where Daniel had repeatedly slapped her, and her core muscles, quads, and thighs were sore from overuse, which disgusted her because it highlighted just how out of shape she was.

In the kitchen, she retrieved a bag of gourmet coffee from the cabinet and scooped grounds into the Moccamaster, then filled it with water. Coffee on, she shuffled back into the living room. When her makeshift collar loosened and began to slip over her shoulder, she quickly pulled on it to tighten it. For reasons she couldn’t fathom and was too tired to contemplate, the thought of no longer wearing it filled her with panic. Then she remembered something.

She returned to the kitchen and looked around in the back of the pantry. There, on the top shelf, was the basket containing her deceased cocker spaniel’s old toys and treats. Coiled on top, right where she’d left it nearly two years ago, was his old collar and leash. She took a moment to remove the jangling tags, then put it around her neck and buckled it. Her face flushed. Partially because it fit perfectly - in fact, she didn’t need to adjust it at all – but mostly for how good it felt and the tingle it elicited from her neglected clit. She clipped the long, thin walking leash to the collar and spun it so that it draped over her back and nestled between her butt cheeks.

She paused, then peaked her head out into the darkened kitchen. She was perfectly alone. The sound of running water upstairs told her that Daniel was busy in the shower. She could get herself off, even clean herself afterwards to get rid of the evidence. Would he still be able to tell? Did it matter? If he was right, they were all dead anyway. It was only a matter of time.

Just as her hand strayed toward her pussy, and her glossy pubic hair tickled her palm, the water shut off. It was a sign. She moved her hand away. She should not and would not disobey him. She would earn his favor by remaining obedient. Putting the dog basket back in its place, she filled a mug with coffee and waited patiently in the living room with it until he came downstairs.

He was barefoot, carrying his shoes in one hand and his tool bag in the other, setting both by the front door. He wore the same rumpled clothes he had on earlier but looked remarkably refreshed otherwise. The dog collar surprised him. He took the mug from her without thanks and then circled behind her, pulling the leash through his loose grip, all the way down to her ass.

“This is nice,” he commented, slipping his hand through the loop handle at the end. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was our old dog’s.”

He was silent for a moment, sipping his coffee, then murmured his recollection. “Oh yeah. What was its name again?”

“Sammy.”

“Right,” he said, snapping his fingers. “Sammy. Well, it looks great on you.” She blushed. He gave the leash a gentle tug, guiding her downward. “On your hands and knees. There you go. Good girl.”

With the leash held loosely in his grip, he stood with her by his side, sipping his coffee as he stared over the mug at the television. His eyes swiveled briefly to where Cecilia slept peacefully on the sofa before shifting his gaze to take in the sight of Vivienne on her hands and knees. The front of his pants bulged outward.

Moving slowly but deliberately, Vivienne lowered herself into one of the few poses she remembered from her yoga days, called, appropriately enough, a puppy pose. With her arms stretched out in front of her, her tits pressed firmly against the cold hardwood floor, and her back arched, she was fully exposed and opened for him.

“What are you up to?” he asked in a knowing tone.

He palmed one of her butt cheeks and caressed it. Vivienne shivered when he slid into the crack and gently teased her asshole with his fingertips. The sensation of his touch on one of her erogenous zones made her heart flutter. As good as it felt to be touched by him that way, she desperately wanted him to move lower and give her pussy the relief it ached for. If not that, then to at least finger her asshole. He did neither. Instead, he moved his fingers in a slow circle, lightly tracing over her puckered anus.

“You ever been fucked in the ass before?”

She could barely get the word out. “Yes.”

He chuckled softly. “Why am I not surprised? Did you like it?”

“Sometimes.”

“I bet you’d like it right now, wouldn’t you?”

She stifled a whimper and whispered, “Y-yes.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you would.” He reached between her legs and brushed over her hairy labia. Her whimper became a cry. “This is what you really want though, isn’t it?”

She dared not respond because to do so would unleash a floodgate of pent up emotion and need. Instead, she moved her knees apart in the hope that, by inviting him to explore her pussy further, he wouldn’t stop what he was doing. His touch was so infuriatingly light. He petted her plump labia and the sides of her furry vulva, but to her great frustration avoided her clit. He eventually returned to her anus and teased her there some more. When he took his hand away, she had to bite her tongue to hold back her anguished cry.

He led her to the armless loveseat and sat down. His straining erection pushed up the durable fabric of his pants. Vivienne wanted him to take it out so she could see it, and she looked into his eyes to express that desire. He chewed on the inside of his cheek, in apparent consideration of something. She held her breath. After a brief glance at her sleeping daughter, he swiped his hands over the cushions on either side of his legs.

“Lay across me, on your back. I want that fat ass of yours right here, on my lap, and don’t make a fucking sound.”

She could hardly believe what he’d just said. Her heart beat so rapidly that she suddenly worried about the durability of her ticker. Heart disease ran in her family. The ultimate irony would be to expire from a heart attack at that moment. Moving so as to not make a sound, she carefully sat in his lap, then stretched out her body across the long cushion. Her head and feet hung over the sides, leaving her body arched over his legs.

Daniel leaned over her to set down his mug on the coffee table, then he took in the sight of her. She felt his erection surge beneath her delicate, abused buns, and heard the deep exhalations passing through his nostrils. He lifted his fingers and sniffed them, wrinkling his nose.

“Your pussy stinks, you know that?” He put his hand on her bladder and pushed down. “Have to pee?”

She did a little, but she lied. “No.”

“Good, because I’ll rub your face in it and make you lick it up if you have an accident.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that so kept her mouth shut. He put his hand on her thigh and pulled her legs apart, then grabbed one of her breasts. She tensed up, expecting him to pinch it hard like before, but he didn’t. Instead, he wrapped his fingers around its circumference and squeezed until her areola and nipple bulged from the top like one of those squishy squeeze toys. It still hurt, but not too much.

“Damn, you’ve got some ugly tits.”

Again, she said nothing. Her entire focus was on his other hand. The one which lingered high on her leg, so tantalizingly close to her pussy. He glided over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, moving between her knee and her crotch, and squeezed her breast to make it bulge.

“When’s the last time someone fucked you?” he asked.

Vivienne fought back her emotions and took a deep breath to calm herself, though tremors of anticipation still made her shiver uncontrollably. She leaned her head back and, from her upside-down vantage, saw her daughter sleeping soundly on the nearby sofa.

“A while.” She gritted her teeth and nearly screamed when he tightened his grip around her breast. Channeling it into a hiss, she arched her back. “I swear to God, I don’t remember! Years.”

The hasty explanation was enough, and he loosened his grip, but kept hold of her aching breast. He moved his hand from her thigh to her abdomen, where he poked and prodded her before gripping a handful of her lower belly flab.

“Christ, look at this,” he said. “How do you let yourself go like this?”

“Because, I’m weak.”

Her honest response surprised both of them. He let go of her jelly roll and lightly tapped from the side to make it jiggle. Normally ashamed of her soft midsection, she was long past caring about it now. She didn’t even flex her abdominal muscles. He seemed fascinated by the way it moved as he tapped it over and over again.

“Do you disgust yourself?” he wondered aloud.

“Yes.”

“You should.”

After exploring her midsection a little more, he slid his hand to her pubic mound. There, he combed through her untrimmed bush. Vivienne closed her eyes and parted her lips, exhaling a soft sigh. He was so close to her pussy now, it was nearly unbearable. He gripped a handful of her pubes and tugged on them until she lifted her pelvis.

“Don’t you ever shave?”

“Why? What’s the point?”

“Self-respect.”

“I don’t have any.”

He chuckled at that. “Fuck me, this is one hell of a gnarly bush you’ve got.”

If her tummy fascinated him, her long pubic hair mesmerized him. He seemed to be enjoying himself, or was at least entertained by it. He repeatedly combed his fingers through the long, curly pussy hair, sometimes pulling it through his fingertips, as if to gauge its length. His hands moved in concert, one playing with her pubes, the other massaging her breast. The attention he paid to her body made her delirious with desire. Although she wanted nothing more than for him to rub her pussy and finally get her off, this was perhaps the next best thing.