Chapter 5

Roger Trenton was not a drinking man per se. A martini before dinner or a bottle of wine during the meal, but not both=8B=8B otherwise, he was apt to lose too much control over his reasoning and will-power. As he thought in self-torture, he had last Saturday with Miriam on the picnic... But here it was Saturday again, and he was sitting at two o'clock in the afternoon with his third brandy-and-soda in his hand, and feeling quite drunk...

The sadly contemplative biology instructor had been maudlin all week, plagued with feelings of doubt and guilt over what had taken place up in the hills with the English teacher from school. Damn! He was such a fool! He'd wanted her almost from the first time they'd met, his loins firing with sexual need every moment they were together. With an experienced man's instinct for such things, he felt she was as attracted to him as he was to her; and more, she was as sensual as she was provocative. Considering what he thought she was like, he couldn't blame her for reacting like a feline in heat to him=8B=8Bbut neither could he be angered over her sudden switch back to modesty. Who could respect a woman otherwise? Christ, she was a voluptuous, curvaceous female; but so was a whore. He wanted a woman who was sensitive to affection and discerning in her choice of men, as well as being beautiful to look at.

Roger sighed, scratching the head of his large German Shepherd dog beside him before taking another deep swallow of his drink. Christ, if his blatant pressuring hadn't shocked Miriam enough, his impulsive proposal for marriage must have really jolted her. Hell, it had jolted him! What had ever possessed him to ask such a thing? Did he love the blonde-haired English teacher, or was it merely a bad case of the "hots" for her? Well, until he'd made love to her he wouldn't know if he was in love with her...

He smiled thinly at the idea. He'd had all sorts of dirty dreams lately about fucking Miriam half to death, but he could see plainly that he wouldn't get another chance to score with her soon the way things were going. He'd sat down with one brandy-and-soda in an effort to calm his misgivings about seeing her again. He'd had no thought in mind about getting drunk, but as he'd mulled over the way Miriam had obviously avoided him all week, he had allowed the one drink to flow into a second, and then into this third. It was past two o'clock in the afternoon already; he was late for his date with her; and at the rate he was swallowing the brandy, he might not get there at all.

Last Saturday, she'd told him not to apologize any more, but he knew that she was still upset and troubled, and he figured it had to be over his stupid actions then. A half-dozen times during the school week he had set out for her office after one of his classes to say once again that he was sorry, but something of pride always seemed to stop him halfway there. What bothered him were her so-called "reasons" she'd refused to give, and all her crap that they did not concern him. Horsepucky! If her reasons, whatever they were, were stronger than her affection, then she was obviously not that interested in him. Why the hell should he be crawling around on his knees? She wanted to keep their relationship at a distance, then damn it, he would treat her as an object, not as a woman whose feelings must be considered!

"Right, Buck?" he said to his German Shepherd. "You don't give a damn if the bitch is a collie or a husky, so long's you can climb on her and stick it in her hole, right?"

The dog barked as if he understood, and wagged his tail thumpingly against the floor.

"But Miriam is a human being, I'm afraid," Roger Trenton sighed regretfully. He sank back in his chair with his drink pressed to his lips. Sure, he could get as righteous as he wanted to, but he knew deep down he was only kidding himself. Miriam was much too beautiful a person for him not to be more tender and understanding toward her. He was acting overly impatient, considering he'd known her less than a month. Perhaps in time, if she was willing to open into a warm, intimate relationship with him, they could find a mutual, shared love and trust...

"D-Dad?" an anxious young voice called to him.

"Mark?" His father turned around in his chair to survey the boy embarrassingly standing a short ways away. All of Roger's thoughts about Miriam evaporated with one look at his stricken child, for he saw the pain in his expression and the puffy rings around his eyes. "Why, Mark, you've been crying!"

"Yeah, I... guess I have been," Mark replied, his chin trembling as he tried to hold back a fresh stream of tears.

In spite of his mind feeling velvety from all the liquor he'd consumed, Roger was immediately concerned. He'd been both father and mother to the boy for so long that there was nothing he wouldn't do to help him. He straightened up and said: "Come here, son. Something's bothering you."

"You... you won't get mad at me? No matter what?" the boy said in a fearful whisper, taking a hesitant step forward.

"Hey, don't mink that, son. We've been too close for you to believe such a thing. I'm your pal, remember? What happened? You flunk a test?"

"Ohhh," Mark suddenly burst into tears, and he crushed his young body to his father, almost upsetting the brandy glass on the table. "Oh, Dad, I've done something awful!" The youth was a quivering, guilt-ridden soul. He hadn't slept a wink all night, constantly thinking of how he'd left poor Mrs. Dodge sprawled naked and her legs wide open back in the gym. How could he have allowed such a thing to happen when he loved her so much? Now he'd hurt her, and he didn't know what to do or where to turn except to his father. It had taken most of the day to screw up enough courage to tell of what he'd done, but he had to do it and hope his dad wouldn't hate him or turn him over to the police. He couldn't go on living feeling this bad, not another day!

Roger was terribly upset over his son's behavior. His first off-hand guess that Mark was troubled over school work was wrong, he could see=8B=8Bbesides, his child was too level-headed for that. He tried to recall his own teenaged days and what had been the source of his problems, and recalled that they had almost entirely been over puppy-loves. Well, Mark was growing up; it was time for him to experience some of the agonies of budding sex.

"Hey, I bet I know what it is," he said jocularly, keeping a smile on his face to show encouragement and understanding. "It's about a girl, isn't it?"

"Y-yes, in a way. A... a woman. A grown-up woman," Mark sniveled helplessly. "Mrs. Dodge, m-my English teacher. I love her, Dad, I really love her!"

Roger was gripped with the wildest temptation to laugh out loud. How normal! How perfectly innocently natural, and to top it all, Mark thought he was in love with none other than Miriam! But one look into his son's pain-flecked eyes and he knew that to laugh now would crush him to the core. Instead he soothingly said; "Well, don't feel bad. She's a lovely woman, Mark, and I bet half the kids at school have a crush on her."

"But... But they didn't do what I did to her," Mark groaned.

"What was that, son?"

"I... I..." Mark took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes closed together as though expecting an executioner's ax to fall. "I... I raped her!"

"You what?" Roger dropped his jaw open like it was shattered glass. "You did what to Mrs. Dodge?"

"Me and Jo=8B=8Bme and some buddies, we made her drunk at the dance last night," the boy uncontrollably blurted out. "We got her up to the gym storage room, locked the door, and then made her lie down all naked on one of the mats. Then we fu=8B=8Bthen we took turns on her, over and over, in her snat=8B=8Bdown between her legs and sometimes even in her mouth! Then we left her there, lying like she was dead. Oh, I don't care if she wanted us to do it to her, she didn't at first. I hurt her, Dad, I know I hurt her plenty!"

She wanted us to... for some reason that phrase burned deeper in Roger Trenton's brain than all the others of his son's confession. He felt as though he'd been struck over the head with a baseball bat and his breath knocked totally out of his lungs. Christ, he'd heard rumors about Miss Flannigan but he'd chalked that up to gossip. Boys loved having fantasies about being man enough to make love to a woman, and a desirable woman like Miriam would replace old Flannigan on this new year's list with no trouble at all. But this was his own child telling him! God... was it possible? Mark... with Miriam, his Miriam! His insides churned with the lewdness of the very idea, but it was too wild a story not to believe!

"Now you're mad at me! I can tell! You hate me now!" Mark struggled against his father in his effort to break free, but Roger held his son tightly to him in a firm but gentle grip.

"No, son, I'm not mad," he said, trying to calm him. "I... I simply was shocked for a moment. I... I don't understand, that's all. I mean, you called it rape, but=8B=8Bthe way it sounds to me=8B=8B"

"But I forced her to do it with me," Mark blubbered helplessly. "It wasn't like last Sunday, when she was nice and kind and told me she was my new Mommy..."

"She... she said she was your mother?" Roger gasped in a hoarse whisper. Good God, what had that woman been up to with his boy?

"Y-yes," Mark said, trying desperately to explain things and make them better. "When I saw her playing with herself in her shower, she took all my clothes off and then we got on her bed, and she wanted me... wanted me to..."

"Fuck her!" Roger blurted, before he realized that he was talking to his own son. "She wanted you to fuck her!"

"Uh-huh," Mark nodded, wiping away his tears with one tiny balled fist. "It was the first time for me, and... boy, did it feel good! It felt good when we all did it to her last night, too. That was kind of fun, but I know I hurt her deep down inside her heart. And I love Mrs. Dodge like I love you, Dad. That's why you gotta do something, Dad, you just gotta!"

Roger felt seething anger begin to boil up inside his chest. Christ, she'd seduced his own son the day after she'd coldly turned him down. The gall of that bitch! He looked at his tearfully pleading boy, feeling at a loss to know what calm and rational advise to give one so young which wouldn't harm his growing mind further. Yet all the while he tried to contain the increasing flames of resentment and bitterness that were licking higher at the alcohol in his blood...

"Son, you didn't rape her," Roger said slowly, carefully. "If Mrs. Dodge wanted you to make love to her last Sunday, then she's the type who'd want you to do it again to her last night. You said yourself that after a little while she did. I bet it was just that there were so many of you boys that she was scared at first."

"Gee, you think so?" Mark whimpered eagerly. "You think maybe she doesn't hate me, and maybe I could go see her again?"

See her again... to fuck! Roger swallowed thickly, gazing at his young boy seeing for the first time that despite his tender age of fourteen, Mark had been forcibly wrenched into the beginning stages of adulthood, whether ready for it or not. So he doubted that the experiences would shatter his development=8B=8Bbut now, what could he tell his son? Not to ever see Mrs. Dodge again because what had been done was dirty and sinful? He himself had tried to get into her panties, hadn't he? Mark would see right through his lie, and much of the trust he'd tried to bridge between their generations would be lost. He had to play it straight and honest with his child, as he'd always done with him...

"Tell me, Mark," he said after a moment, "would you want to continue making love to Mrs. Dodge if she wanted you to?"

"Gosh yes!" The lights of hope and love sparkled in the youth's dark eyes. "Gee, Dad, you're really swell. You understand! Do you think you can make things right again?"

"Let me think..." Roger relaxed against the back of his chair, patting Buck with one hand idly while he sipped the last of his brandy with the other. He had to protect his son... but it was too late for much of that any more. Mostly, he wanted to punish Miriam. He wanted to punish her so cruelly that she'd never forget. Half-drunk, smarting with righteous indignation at the way he'd been taken in by her phony front of modesty, Roger Trenton suddenly was filled with an insane desire to fuck that bitch like his son and all his buddies had fucked her. What a fitting retribution for the shameless little child molester, he thought wickedly...

"Son, Mrs. Dodge kept saying she was your mother, didn't she?"

"Sure, but we both knew she was only make-believing."

"Well, make-believe or not, how about all three of us going over to her house now? You, me and Buck. After all, if she's your mother, then I'm her husband, right=8B=8B? and husbands have their rights too, you know!"

"Oboy! You mean make it a family affair?"

"That's the ticket, son... if you don't mind me sharing her with you."

"Gee, Dad, how could I mind that? I think it would be great if you could love her as much as I do! And Buck too!" he added innocently. "I'll put on a clean shirt and we'll go!"

He raced excitedly to his bedroom, leaving his father smirking with his smoldering, liquored emotions. In the momentary silence? Roger was beginning to feel a doubt, wondering if he could really do such a terrible thing to Miriam. But then he thought of what she had done to Mark already, and he knew that he had hit upon the perfect answer. A bitch she was, all right... he would follow through and exact his revenge, debasing her in front of Mark's eyes forever. A harsh lesson, he mused as he scratched the large Buck's furry ears. But a proper one befitting the crime...

Miriam Dodge's Saturday had been one of the most miserable she could ever remember. Now, alone in her house, she had spent the time since she'd awakened at noon by weeping silently. The painful and disgusting recollections of her depraved ravishment by those three sadistic boys last night kept sweeping over her tormented mind, their vivid images flashing over and over in torturing repetition.

She wrapped her thin, pale-blue nightgown tighter around her body, hugging herself with her arms as if bitterly cold. Her whole naked form beneath the flimsy, semi-transparent gown shivered in the throes of convulsive tremors as she tried desperately to shake the lewd memories which filled every inch of her heart and head. She knew that she should be overwhelmed with remorse and repugnance, but she was not=8B=8Band that was the most horrible part of all, frightening her more than all else combined. For her returning nightmares were not so much of the vicious horrors that had been done to her on the smelly mat in the storage room, but rather of her own indefensible submission and lewd performance...

Her obscene rutting with those three nakedly abandoned aged fourteen boys, egging them on and demanding more of their virile young penises hard in her belly and mouth... her cumming, cumming, continual cumming... her awakening to find herself splayed nude and soaking wet where she'd been heartlessly discarded when they'd taken their fill of her... God, her body had been a mass of bruises that had centered around her breasts and inner thighs. Her flesh had been rubbed so raw that this morning she'd been too sore to dress, and even the soft nylon gown pressing against her skin was enough to send sharp waves of pain shooting through her body. She had dazedly gathered her clothes and slipped them on despite her agony at their touch, and managed to clean herself up before leaving the room and stumbling back to the cafeteria. The dance was about over and Harlow Cartwright had been searching for her. He had grudgingly accepted her excuse of having suddenly fallen ill "with the flu", though one good glimpse at the heavy lines marring her preciously fresh skin had been enough for him to raise an eyebrow of suspicion. But she had remained silent, never hinting to the principal or his ugly wife what had actually taken place.

And, she promised herself as she sat now in the chair, the appalling truth would remain locked in the confines of her soul forever. To expose the whole sordid affair could only add to her troubles, the publicity of the lurid details opening the door to full disclosure of all her previous sexual perversions. No, she was emotionally ruined for life, but at least she still had a chance to run... run again, as she always had when uncovered for what she was.

Before this day was through, she vowed, she would find the inner strength to dress and pack her suitcase. She would drive out of Logansville and never, ever return. She would compose a letter of resignation and mail it on Monday from some far-off place, the sacrifice of the money owed her worth the pain of another moment in this hellish town.

Her only dread was that Roger Trenton would show up for their day-time date before she had time to pull herself together. There could be no good-byes with him, for although she had come to realize that she truly loved the older man, she had to hide the sickening facts from him more than from anybody else. It wouldn't be fair to make him or his lovely son Mark suffer for what was essentially her own doing, her own miserable failings. God, she had to get started... but somehow, she couldn't seem to find the will to lift herself out of the chair.

There was no more question whether she could trust herself or not. It was obvious that she couldn't stop herself from following her perverted desires once the evil urges beckoned.

No pledge or promise had been able to endure for longer than a few short minutes when faced with lewd temptation. God, what would happen to her later on? At this rate, what would be her end?

A thundering racket snapped Miriam from her tortured thoughts. She realized after a shocked moment that someone was banging his fist violently against her front door.

"What... ? Who's there?" she called out fearfully.

"Open up, Miriam!"

"Oh!" Miriam gasped as she recognized the voice of Roger Trenton. Roger! He was already here! And he sounded so angry! God, had young Mark confessed to him? Had he seen something was wrong and pried the horrid truth out of the boy? She stood beside her chair, afraid to open the door.

"You want all the neighbors to hear what I've got to say to you, Miriam?" came a ferocious yell. "Open this goddamned door before I break it in!"

She unlatched the door against her will, afraid of what he might do or say if she didn't. "What do you want?" she asked hesitantly, opening the door a crack... and then she was roughly thrown back against the wall as Roger burst his way inside.

"Shut up," the furiously glowering man sneered at her. She could see he'd been drinking again, his face all reddened from his heavy dose of alcohol. "All right, son," he called over his shoulder. "Come on in and bring Buck with you."

"Oh no!" The blood drained from the tormented woman's face as she saw young Mark Trenton and the giant German Shepherd walk into her livingroom and stand beside Roger. If there had been any question, the slightest doubt why Roger was here, the sight of the boy and his dog vanished it from her mind. "Oh God, no," she moaned again, looking back up into the savage face of the man she loved. But Roger was no longer that sympathetic, compassionate lover. He was a stranger now, his features cruelly twisted into lines of ruthlessness, mirroring his desire for revenge and punishment. He knew... he knew what she had done!

"Roger, darling... please listen to me," she whimpered up at him, her words sounding pathetic and useless even to her own ears, "Let me explain, please..."

He walked over to where she stood almost naked, and stared down at her with hard, contemptuous hatred in his eyes. He did not speak, only a silent, rage-filled expression lining his anger-contorted lips.

Miriam quivered in her fear and shame. "Say something, Roger, say something," she prayed to him in desperation. She didn't know him now at all, and her humiliation was replaced by the fear that he was going to kill her. She almost wished he would.

"You fucking, kid-sucking bitch!" He spat the words so harsh and cruel that she winced beneath their impact. He leaned over and grasped her thinly clad shoulders hard in his hands, digging his fingers deep into the softness of her cringing flesh. "How many other little boys have fucked you since we've met?" he rasped. "Your whole English class? The whole goddamn Freshman football squad? Mother!"

He closed his hands tightly around her throat and pulled her mouth harshly to him. But the sudden movement and the savage pressure of his hands on her throat caused her to jerk her face away.

"You bitch," he snapped. "I didn't hear that you were squirming away from Mark!" He slapped her hard, flat across the cheeks, jerking her head to the side so hard she thought certainly he had broken her neck. She tried to twist away from his madness, but he only slapped her again, this time across her other cheek.

"Roger! Roger! You're killing me! You're killing me!"

"Not that way, I won't," he laughed cruelly down at her. "I have a better way of making you wish you had never been born! Take off your nightgown, Mother dear... or should I call you my wife? Yeah... take off that nightie, wife and get bare-ass naked!"

"Please, Roger," she sobbed mournfully. "Please don't make me. Not like this in front of Mark!"

"Why, you slut! He's seen you naked more times than I have. And he's fucked you, remember? I'm the one who hasn't had that pleasure before! Now, strip, I said!" he snarled viciously, and suddenly gripped the front of her loosely tied gown. He gave the thin material a twisting wrench, and her nearly transparent flimsy gown was open down the entire front of her body.

She could feel a cool rush of air slide beneath the opened cloth and begin caressing her naked flesh beneath. Her hands rose automatically to cover her exposed nakedness, but she dropped them quickly away as she realized that there was no more use in trying to hide. Roger was right; he and his son had seen everything she had to offer. Even the dog, Buck, had watched her naked on a blanket. Sobbing more quietly, she stood in passive defeat as Roger Trenton pulled the gown from around her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. She trembled in her humiliation, totally nude in front of everyone she had ever cared about.

"On your knees, wife," Roger commanded from beside her. "Get down on the floor. Now!"

What else could she do? she thought, then suddenly felt the smarting whack of the enraged man's hand upon her buttocks. "Do as I say, Miriam," he snickered lewdly. "A husband's word is law!" Another resounding painful smack stung at her backsides, and she almost leaped as she hurried to kneel and obey his maddened commands. She helplessly cowered in front of his wide- spread legs, but as she looked up at him pleadingly, she suddenly gasped for breath.

Roger Trenton was unbelting his pants with almost feverish haste. He dropped his shorts and slid off his pants, throwing them and his shirt in every direction. Within seconds he stood towering over the stricken, terrified woman, his naked, muscular body gleaming softly in the dim room's lamp-light. Miriam's eyes trailed down his maturely developed chest, and groaned abjectly as her panicked gaze locked upon his erect penis. She had felt it in her hands and on her inner thighs before, up there on the picnic blanket the previous Saturday afternoon. But now she saw its length and breadth for the first time, and its enormous size filled her with dreaded awe. In comparison to the little teenage boys she'd known=8B=8Beven in terms of her ex-husband's normal size=8B=8B Roger's throbbing fleshy hardness was monstrous! She could feel her insides cringe at the thought of trying to accommodate even half of it. He grinned luridly down at her, enjoying her openmouthed terror, and dropped one hand to lightly stroke the heavy foreskinned shaft when he caught her stare fixed upon it.

"Like it, my bitch of a make-believe wife?" he leered with vulgar delight. "I think this will satisfy your hunger where lots of younger boys have not!"

"Roger, you... you can't do this to me!" she whispered weakly, aware that little Mark was standing by. "My God, you'll kill me. I can't take a thing like that up inside me!"

"Yes," Roger smilingly taunted down at her. "You are, Miriam. Or would you prefer me going to the police?"

"Ohhhh," she groaned, hopelessly sobbing. Tears now streamed in flowing wet rivulets down the sides of her cheeks, and despite her gripping terror, she knew she would give in to him. She knew she had no choice even with his fourteen year old son watching. "Oh, God, then do it to me quick, and get it over with. Please, Roger, please..."

Roger gazed down at the moaning, pleading woman, and something inside his heart began to soften his savage sense of hurt. Damn, Miriam was so luscious, so curvaceous. He had only to look down at the distorted expression of pain and suffering which twisted her lovely face... and at the way she pressed her thighs back from his expected assault... and he knew deep down that unwillingly he was weakening to her charms again. He realized belatedly that much of his anger at what Mark had told him was envy at the thought of the beautiful woman being fucked by his young son's cock; that he was as jealous as he was enraged. He knew that now to be the truth, and he felt a little twinge of shame mixing with his burgeoning raw lust for her.

"No, my make-believe wife," he said in a slightly softer tone. "No, I'll try and make you love it, even if it takes me two weeks to do it!"

He dropped to his knees beside her, pushing her backward with his hands upon her softly trembling breasts, until she lay spread out flat on her back upon the spongy soft carpet. Miriam closed her eyes tight again to close away the shame and fear of lying under him stripped naked and defenseless against his cold cruel gaze. The further humiliation of having young Mark standing there watching her like this momentarily made her want to scream. She opened her mouth in torment, but was too paralyzed with guilt to make a sound. Instead, all she could do was lie still, with her thighs wide apart, her breath coming so fast she felt as though her lungs would burst. Her belly quivered and heaved as though he already had the long thick cock extending out from his loins sunk deep inside her belly.

Roger bent over her prostrate body, fastening his teeth harshly into the nipple of her heaving left breast. She groaned in pain, attempting to twist away from the sudden sharp torture, but his hands, playing over the softness of her thighs and hips, held her tightly to him. His lips and tongue roamed wetly over the palpitating mounds, and though she tried to stop the feeling, a tiny tendril of sensation unwantedly descended feather-like to her naked loins below. God, she couldn't be reacting this way to a full grown man now even in the smallest bit! It was insane! But as he continued the slow tortuous licking of her flesh with his tongue, a blissful little twitch made her buttocks begin a slow, hardly noticeable grinding down into the rug.

"I'm going to fuck you," Roger moaned as his lips caressed over the soft sensitive skin of her breasts, his eyes still hard and cruel with the greed of his desire. "I'm going to fuck you like you've never been fucked before. I want little Mark to see you twist and squirm when a man-sized cock sinks into your baby- loving little cunt. I want him to hear you beg and scream for me."

Miriam lay frozen under the prodding of his obscene words. Their very lewdness seemed to excite her a tiny bit more, but again she thought of how he wanted to merely use and humiliate her, and the beginning desire vanished from her mind. To lie beneath the man she'd thought loved her as nothing more than a receptacle for his lewdly gushing sperm and lust was a thousand times more degrading than even the three young boys' rape of her last night. The hateful mauling of her body by a father whose young son and huge dog eagerly were viewing was too much for even her to take! She could never respond passionately to him; she knew she couldn't! She would submit because she had to, but only in tormenting pain...

Suddenly Roger slipped down on the carpet beside her and wrapped his arms around her naked body, pulling her tightly to him. They lay pressed together, his rigid cock insinuating all the way through her soft inner thighs and trapped on the other side between the crevice of her fear-clenched buttocks, his lips clamped wetly over hers. He moved his loins hungrily against her hips, and then she felt his long, sensitive finger slowly smoothing down their naked bodies to teasingly find her throbbing, tight vaginal mound. He dipped a little lower, down between the soft, hair-fringed pussy lips, spreading them open against her will to tease her tiny clitoris. Miriam couldn't hold back a soft mewling cry from the tingling sensation, and as she parted her lips, he thrust his tongue deep inside her saliva-moist mouth. She groaned around his long wet tongue with helpless despair, futilely trying to keep control of her perversely rising emotions.