Chapter 8

"That was a beautiful weekend," Allen said, weaving through the southbound Sunday traffic.

"Yes. I enjoyed it."

Gwen sat far away from Allen, her hands folded in her lap. She felt uneasy, edgy.

"That Sybil is really something. A wild woman. I'm glad you had such good friends to take care of you."

A thin smile played on his lips as he muttered a tune and took a drag off his cigarette.

"She told me some secrets, about how to keep you in love with me. Pretty smart woman, that Sybil. And nice too. Real nice."

"Yes," Gwen answered coolly, rubbing the back of her neck. She was sore from her waist up. She tried to recall what had happened, but her mind was fuzzy. She knew she hadn't seen much of Allen after Friday night. Bob had kept her busy swimming and golfing and listening to party records and... she smiled to herself... yes... loving her... yes... he had loved her... and Sybil had loved Allen... they were their friends...

"Sybil is really a true friend," Allen was saying as he swung out to pass a bus. "She really knows what's happening."

"I'm glad you liked them," Gwen said feeling more comfortable now. "I was sure you would."

"I am. I can hardly wait for next weekend. They want us to come up again. Guess Bob was a little mad at me for breaking his stereo, though. No sweat, Sybil said she'd take care of it." He hummed that tune again, a tune Gwen had never heard before.

"I didn't know you broke the stereo?"

"Yeah. Sybil was showing me some tricks. Said I should try them on you this week. They're great tricks. Really great. Only good friends would share them, like secrets, you know. Anyway, we were horsing around and I knocked over the stereo. Felt real bad about it, but Sybil just laughed. You notice the way she laughs. Relaxed. Cool. Real cool."

"Yes, she's a very sophisticated woman."

"Don't get jealous now, honey. I didn't mean to cut you down."

"You didn't."

Allen laughed and turned the radio up, tapping the dashboard with his fingers. Gwen settled back into the seat, a gloomy feeling shrouding her thoughts as the car sped down the highway.

"He's a fucking beast," Bob raved, waving his hand at the broken furniture and smashed stereo and FM radio. "Look what he did."

"Just sowing his oats," Sybil answered calmly, filing her nails and studying them critically.

"Let him sow his oats in a barn then. I tell you Sybil, if you're going to roam around the house leading him by the cock next weekend and have him fuck every hole in your body, I won't be here to watch."

"Your blood pressure," she said icily. "Now calm down. I didn't know he was so hungry."

"Hungry. He must be starved. I saw him slapping the shit out of you and all you did was laugh and egg him on. You better be careful, that guy's cracked something."

"Don't be silly. You know how men are when they don't have any inhibitions."

"I don't give a rat's ass about psychology lectures. I just don't want him up here again turning my house into a china closet."

"I'll be more gentle, dear. Now, sit down. I'll buy you a new radio. It's my money you thrive on, anyway."

"Don't get catty, goddamnit. Just be careful. You might end up like that fucking radio."

Sybil didn't look at the shattered tubes and mangled case laying in pieces around the room. She shut her eyes and thought of Allen's brutal, exciting attacks.

"I'll handle Mister Allen Farrow. You keep your hand on his wife."

She laughed again and drew the file across her nail, savoring the slight pain it made as it scraped the fleshy side of her finger.

Each day became worse for Gwen. The pain began to grow stronger, shoving through the haze that engulfed her whenever Allen used some of his "tricks" on her. By Thursday she was badly bruised and her lungs ached when she breathed.

"Here. Let me tie you to the door. That's a great way to do it. Sybil said you would love it."

"I'm tired, Allen. Please? Let me sleep?"

"You don't love me?"

"Yes, I love you. But... I don't feel well."

"I don't care how you feel," Allen threatened. "I need you. Now come here."

His strong hands clamped around her wrist, pulling her to him.

"Get on your knees and suck me then, you slut," he growled, pulling his trousers down and pushing her head against his prick.

"Allen? Please? I'm so tired."

"Fuck you and your tiredness. You're my wife. You have to please me. It's beautiful, pleasing me. Now suck."

Her lips trembling, Gwen let the fleshy shank slip between her lips. Her hand shook as she held the base and worked it slowly in, drawing deep breaths of air through her nostrils as she felt the appendage harden and fill her mouth.

"Gum it, like Sybil does. Gum it."

Allen leaned back against the wall, his legs bowed, his eyes closed, a smile on his lips. Gwen looked up at his raptured face. He was moaning and hunching his pelvis forward, driving the thick, hard inches of his dong into her. She knew how to suck a man; Bob had taught her well, told her it was beautiful to feel the prick come to life inside her mouth, that it was glorious for woman to drink a man's semen, to swallow deep and then lick the sticky residue off with her tongue. But that seemed so long ago, so distant. Things had changed, things she didn't understand. Everything had changed.

Bob was different. So was Sybil. And Allen. He couldn't leave her alone. She hadn't slept in two days. Every time she tried to lie down, he was there, on top of her, humping at her anus, sucking on her vagina, forcing her to suck him off. He was moving her around the house, screwing her in difficult positions, tying her arms behind her back with her nylons and then buggering her. Gagging her with his handkerchief and hitting her as he humped into her until tears rolled down her face.