Chapter 7

Laura lay with her head cradled on the backseat of the Farrington's powerful white convertible, as it sped through the blistering Friday afternoon heat. As usual, George Farrington was driving at a breakneck pace, and Laura preferred to keep her eyes closed rather than watch his terrifying progress along the crowded four lane highway.

The last few days had been the longest Laura could ever remember. It had almost been as though time had stood still, breathless in anticipation of what was to occur that weekend. Laura hadn't seen George since her humiliating meeting with him in her kitchen, but she had known that he was ever present, just out of sight, the threat of his appearance upsetting her as much or more than his actual presence.

But Friday had finally come, and now, as she rested her eyes from the brilliant sun that glared off the freeway, Laura listened to Bill and Abby chatting, and George occasionally punctuating the conversation with a hearty laugh. As for herself, Laura was content to withdraw from the group, and try to prepare herself mentally for the test she knew was bound to occur within hours. She noticed the car's change of speed as it evidently left the freeway, but kept her eyes closed until she heard Abby's excited exclamation.

"There it is! It's that brown one over there with all the space around it."

Laura opened her eyes, and looked off to the right where Abby was pointing. To her surprise, she discovered that they had already reached the ocean, and were riding along a narrow dune lined road that occasionally afforded glimpses of a long line of rather plush beach homes, all with sun drenched porches that faced out to sea. An amazed whistle escaped her lips.

"Wow! This is really something!" she said appreciatively as she stared at the attractive little brown bungalow that Abby had pointed out.

"Yeah, this is our little hideaway," George said proudly. "We bought up the lots on either side so we could have a little privacy."

"Hell," Bill laughed, "it looks like you own the whole beach. What's that building down by the water?"

"Oh, that's our boat shed," George answered nonchalantly.

"I didn't know you had a boat!"

"Yep. A real honey. I'll show it to you first thing."

George pulled the car around the circular drive in front of the cottage, and stopped next to the front door. As they all piled out of the car, George turned to his guests.

"Come on, let's go take a look at my little ship."

"Oh no you don't," Abby said quickly. "I need somebody to help me carry these groceries and things in. Bill, you're elected!"

"Well... sure," Bill responded hesitantly. "You two go on down to the boat. I can see it another time. We've got the whole weekend."

"Ah, nothing like true sacrifice," George laughed, already taking Laura's arm and beginning to guide her down the steep path to the boat house. "We won't be long. Why don't you guys fix yourselves a drink and we'll join you in awhile."

Laura felt there was something just a little too glib in George's speech, and tried to hold back as they began down the path. But then she saw that her husband was already busy unloading the car, and, deciding that George would never dare to do anything so soon, and with her husband so close by, she followed him down to the boathouse.

George fished through a set of keys before finding the one that fit the padlock on the boathouse door, but then quickly opened it and stepped inside, turning on the lights as he did so. Laura followed him through the doorway, and then gasped in amazement as she saw a beautiful thirty foot sloop displayed in the dim light, its mast extending up and out of a hole in the roof that had been made for that purpose. The boat was white above the waterline, blue below, and had a trunk cabin raised at least a foot and a half above the well kept teak decks. The sails were all furled and ready to go, and the whole boat looked new and vivacious, almost as though it were eager and anxious to set out at that very moment.

"Oh, George, it's beautiful..."

"Yeah. Abby and I just came down and cleaned the whole thing up; you know, scrubbed it down and replaced a few of the older pieces of rigging. She's ready for sea right now. In fact, we may try her out this weekend. Would you like to see below?"

Laura's curiosity and immediate love for the boat outweighed the slight feeling of apprehension that flitted across her brain at her host's invitation, and she followed George onto the boat, waiting while he unlocked the hatch cover and disappeared down the companionway. Then some lights came on in the cabin below, and Laura ventured down the ladder.

The boat, inside, was every bit as luxurious as it was outside. There were places to sleep four, a small galley and head, and surprisingly ample space for a thirty foot boat. Laura was particularly impressed with the interior decorating, which George had told her had been planned by Abby, but which still had a distinctly masculine air to it. She was examining what seemed to be an antique oil lamp when she suddenly felt George's powerful arms close insidiously around her waist.

"No, George! Don't!" she said forcefully, surprising herself a little bit by the force of her response and the way she struggled quickly out of his unwelcome hold. "I don't want to do that."

"But I want to do it, Laura, and I think..."

"I don't care what you want! Or what's happened in the past. It's not going to happen again."

George looked with amusement at his recalcitrant young guest, smiling at her determined, but ultimately futile attempt to put him off. He could see that this little show of temper would have to be nipped in the bud. He moved quietly back and sat on the edge of one of the bunks.

"It's not going to happen again?" he smiled questioningly, his face a picture of attempted understanding. "What's not going to happen again? You mean you're not going to let me take you again? Or you would just prefer it if I didn't take you again?"

Laura stared at him, as if she couldn't make up her mind to plead with him or try to construct a defense against him, which she had little hope would succeed. She decided on the latter.

"I... I mean... that you can't... I won't allow you to..."

Laura stopped abruptly as George stood up suddenly, his face creased by anger. She suddenly felt her will leave her with a sudden rush, making her feel more alone and afraid than she ever had before. She suddenly knew that, try as she might, she was going to have to face him again, here and now, even though her husband was less than a hundred yards away. She knew this as surely as he now stood there, grinning lewdly down into her frightened face. And that realization suddenly made her bolt.

She turned quickly to the ladder and tried to climb up, but immediately felt George's powerful hands on her again, pulling her off the ladder and throwing her viciously across the small cabin. She stared in horror as he turned slowly to her, and then made his way to the opposite side of the cabin, and proceeded to unfold a large double bunk from the wall.

Oh no! Laura thought to herself in desperation. What can I do? It's going to happen again, and I don't want it to... Please God, I don't want it to...

Laura was aware of the tiny tingle that always raced along her spine when her thoughts turned to the act of making love, and of being taken by this powerful man who now stood facing her. But this time she thought, she hoped, that she would not be betrayed by that reflexive arousal that had already proven her downfall before with her lusting neighbor. Laura buried her head in her hands, hoping to blot out the familiar shame and the fear which was again threatening to conquer her being.

"You say you don't want it to happen again, eh Laura?" came George's sneeringly confident voice. "Well, we'll just see about that. We'll put you to a little test."

The desperately anguished young wife looked up, and gasped at what she saw. George was standing in front of her, calmly unzipping the fly of his pants, unbuttoning the top button, and sliding them off his hairy loins with a smoothly hypnotic motion. His jockey shorts bulged obscenely with the growing swell of his aroused cock, and his hand snaked along his hips, in one quick motion lowering his shorts to his knees and allowing his massively jutting shaft to spring out toward Laura with unbelievable force.

The trembling young woman gasped, and yet could not take her eyes off the glistening shaft of male flesh that stared her in the face with its one, monstrous eye. She couldn't even look up at George, but was mesmerized by the rapidly swelling penis in front of her, immobilized by the lurid sensations that were beginning to course through her veins and suddenly threatening to rob her of her sanity.

Oh God, don't let it happen again! Please don't let me be beaten again! But her silent pleas went unheeded, as George slowly and teasingly approached her from across the cabin, his hypnotically pulsating penis swaying backwards and forwards in front of him as he walked, like some kind of cobra, turning her will to jelly as she stared. Her resolve, her defenses, were both swept away almost immediately this time, as though the number of times she had already submitted to this lasciviously plotting man had somehow weakened her defenses - weakened them to the point that the simple sight of his nakedly inviting body was enough to turn her into a willing and obedient slave.

I'm evil... I'm a whore. But I want to touch it. I want to hold and kiss it... and suck it... Oh, God, I've got to.

With an anguished cry, Laura threw herself onto her knees before George's hugely throbbing cock, grasping it wantonly with both hands and rubbing its muscular rock-hard flesh along the smooth whiteness of her cheek. Her mind was suddenly empty now, empty of all her self-recriminations, her self-debasement, her feelings of shame and humiliation. Her whole consciousness was focused with insane completeness upon her grinning host's powerful tower of quivering maleness, and she wasn't even aware of what George was saying as he groaned with pleasure above her. It was as though her mind had suddenly snapped under the pressure.

"That's it baby. That's right. You want it, and you can have it. Just like you did before. That's it. It'll do for a start, and then we'll go on to other games."

Bill Wilson had finished unpacking the car, and now began to make his way down toward the boathouse. He didn't like the idea of his wife and George Farrington down there alone, and had grown even more suspicious when Abby had tried her best to keep him with her up at the house. If he had his way, he wasn't going to let Laura out of his sight the whole weekend.

Coming to the foot of the path, Bill walked slowly to the open door of the boathouse, and then stepped inside. He saw the lights on in the cabin of the sailboat, and crept forward until he stood beside the cabin. If George Farrington thought he could force his wife to submit to any more of his blackmailing advances, he had another thing coming.

Bill heard sounds coming from inside the boat, and knelt down to peer through the open porthole on one side of the trunk cabin, pausing a moment to let his eyes grow accustomed to the dim light inside the shed. Then his face suddenly contracted in anger and disgust as he saw what was happening, and heard the commanding voice of George Farrington cry out:

"That's it, Laura, baby! Suck it! Suck it like only you can! OOOOHHHHHHHHHH"

Bill reeled at the obscene commands his neighbor was calling to his wife. His first inclination was to rush into the cabin, and to tear George's writhing cock from his wife's unwilling mouth, but his resolve left him in a flood as he realized that his wife was enjoying it, was not being forced, but was eagerly devouring George Farrington's obscenely swaying shaft between her willingly grasping lips.

This was something he hadn't suspected! Bill had been sickened when Laura had first told him of how George had forced her to submit to his will, and had comforted her when she'd seemed so upset by her experience. But now, all at once, the realization hit him that his wife must have been lying to him, must have been using his love for her to cover her own willing participation in her unfaithfulness. Suddenly, Bill saw his wife painted in the damning colors of the typical adulteress, who had used and deceived him by saying she had been forced to bend to their neighbor's will, when she had in fact enjoyed it... enjoyed it just as she was enjoying it now!

The sight of them naked on the bunk, and George's lust- hardened cock stroking sleekly in and out of Laura's wetly cavernous mouth, was the most salaciously hypnotic depravity Bill could have imagined. At first, he thought he might be in the throes of a lurid nightmare, but then he realized that it was horrible reality! An almost bewitching sense of helplessness and rage overwhelmed him, and he stumbled against the boat for support. But even as his helpless rage began to boil inside him, he felt the unwanted stirring and swelling of his own cock inside his pants at the lascivious spectacle taking place before him. He gaped through the porthole at Laura hunched on all fours between George's spread legs, every inch of the lewdly pulsing cock completely absorbed inside her ovalled lips and wildly sucking mouth, her magnificent breasts juggling and swaying to her pumping motions while George strained his powerful loins upward at her face in perfect rhythm.