Chapter 8

Janet was preparing the salad when she heard Martin's car, with her husband and Martin inside, pull into the driveway. She put the bowl on the counter and walked toward the door to be ready to meet him when he entered; she hoped Martin wouldn't insist on coming in the house. She didn't want to see him. Though she knew she would have to face him on Friday, perhaps she would not have to go through looking at him just now after the humiliation he had subjected her to earlier in the afternoon.

Just as she came to the swinging door between the kitchen and living room, she saw a note scribbled on the blackboard she used as a reminder with her shopping; she didn't have to guess that the handwriting belonged to Martin. The note was short and not so sweet. There was a single sentence, instructing her to make sure Greg would accept the weekend invitation and she knew she had no choice. In a moment her husband would be in the house and she would have to conspire against him.

Janet quickly erased the board and decided to wait for him in the kitchen, pretending to be busy preparing beef stroganoff, though all she had left to finish was putting a fire under the meal. Unaware, she thought, I must be unaware that Martin has invited us to the beach. Martin would be surprised at Greg's acting if he realized that Greg knew about their affair the other night. It would make him angry and there was no telling what he might do.

She tried to turn her mind to more pleasant thoughts as her husband entered the kitchen alone; she found herself breathing a small sigh of relief.

"Martin's got something up his sleeve," he said, without even greeting her, and she could see that he was extremely angry. It must have been horrible for Greg, she thought, riding all the way home with Martin, knowing the man had totally debauched his wife. Greg was not a violent man, but a situation like that could have made most men commit murder.

"He's invited us to the beach for the weekend," he continued. She said nothing for a minute, waiting to hear his reaction. "What the hell does he think he's doing?" he almost yelled, slamming his fist on the counter. She watched him look around the kitchen uselessly looking for something else to hit to relieve the pressure building in his brain.

"I don't know, darling," she said, walking toward him. "Let's have a drink. It'll settle you down for a while and we can try to determine what he wants. Who knows, maybe he has even changed his mind and isn't going to do anything," she said, wondering how Greg would feel if he knew that Darleen was going to make a play for him.

She followed him into the living room and stood beside him as he fixed them a highball. He talked about his dislike for Martin and she listened dutifully, knowing that there was no way on earth for them to get out of what was going to follow in a day and a half. They had to go through with it and that was all there was to it.

Though Greg's job seemed no longer important to him, Janet didn't want to wait for a man who might spend ten years in prison, therefore, she wanted to please Martin at all costs. But Greg's focus was upon their marriage and their lives together, lives that were in jeopardy. If Martin could keep them under his power they would be no longer free. If he had to live under the yoke of fear, allowing his wife to sleep with another man, then his life was not worth living. He had not considered that Darleen was also a conspirator in the plot.

"Perhaps we should go with them to find out what he wants," she suggested when she found Greg had not completely agreed to go. He had told Martin that he would see if Janet had made any other plans for the weekend, but Martin was not worried, not after his afternoon visit to her kitchen.

"There is nothing we can do without knowing what he really has planned," she said. "I don't think it can do any harm. At least, not if the two of us are there." She almost believed her own words as she spoke. Martin was obviously a professional at blackmailing women into his bed, and apparently, to Janet, so was Darleen. She was at his mercy and could not tell her husband that she too had joined the conspirators.

His high Midwestern morals had not kept him from stealing, but they had kept him from other women. Sex was sacred to Greg. Though they had been married for several years now, he failed to recognize that it was not just something they happened to share with each other. The idea had never occurred to him that other women could give him much more pleasure than his wife. Nor had it occurred to him that he could give her much more pleasure than he did. As far as he knew, there was only one way to do it properly, and that was the way he always did.

Janet, however, had discovered new innovations through Martin, making her more susceptible to the idea that they could go to the beach house. She did not believe that Greg would be seduced by Darleen. But the exhilarating thought of being made love to by Martin, even though she knew it was wrong, drew her to the subconscious conclusion that they must go. Consciously she could not accept what she had done. But subconsciously she needed to be used like Martin used her, demeaning her in her own eyes, using her as a means to an end, not as a feeling, sensitive human being.

"I don't know if it'll be safe for you, honey. I know they'll try something," Greg said hesitantly.

"We have to take the chance though, darling," she said. "If we don't do at least that much, he could decide that he should turn you in. No one would believe that he had done to me what he had, and after all, it isn't a crime. He didn't rape me. And even if I testified that he did, it wouldn't hold up in court. If he disclosed to the police and the company that you've been embezzling, no one would believe anything I said. So we just must go."

"You're right," he said, looking at the reddening eyes of his wife. He could not tell that she was acting, that her tears were not real. She often cried when a crisis came. There was no reason to think that she was faking. "I'll call Martin now," Greg finally said after pondering for a moment longer. "He said we would leave around noon on Friday, and I'm sure he'll be very happy to hear we're going."

Janet didn't want to talk as she reclined back in the back seat of the white convertible. It was twelve thirty on Friday afternoon and they had been driving for fifteen minutes. She leaned her head back and worriedly watched the speedometer creep past ninety as they headed south on the Santa Ana Freeway.

Greg and Martin chatted in the front seat, while Darleen sat on her left, telling her about the nightclub, Grant's Tomb. Janet barely heard her. The last time she had been in a nightclub she had ended the night in bed with another man. I could never talk to Darleen if I knew she had been to bed with my husband, she thought. How can she do it so casually, as though nothing had happened.

Janet was still seeing the flashing strobe lights that had beat on her brain a little over a week before and her thoughts roamed aimlessly. She watched her husband nod now and then while Martin talked about the beach and the tan they could get with only one weekend. She thought they would probably not see much sun if the Kellys had their way.

"... sailboat is in perfect condition," Martin said. "We should have good weather all weekend. Have you ever sailed," he asked Greg over the boom-thump of a folk rock song on the radio. He shook his head.

"Not much sailing water in the Midwest," he said.

"Then you'll have to learn. You happen to be lucky enough to have one of the best teachers on the coast," he bragged. "What about you, Janet," he asked, turning his head to look at her.

"Fine," she said, wishing he would keep his eyes straight ahead. The traffic was too heavy to be looking around and not paying attention to the road. Finally, to take her mind from Martin's driving, she turned to Darleen and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

They all continued to talk. Greg was more relaxed with Martin now, and Janet forced herself to speak with Darleen in order to keep Martin from turning around again. She would rather spend the day in bed with him than die with him.

She nervously watched the water as they came out onto route one. The dunes were high and there was no danger of going over a cliff, at least not yet. Martin had slowed to seventy miles an hour, which was still too fast for the road. The sand glared at her through her sunglasses. She must buy some of those brown- lensed ones, she thought. They keep out the glare.

"Here we are," Darleen announced. "It's the brown house out there," pointing toward a large beachhouse on stilts, separated from the other summer homes by fifty yards of sand. "We bought all the land around the place, keeping our neighbors at more than arm's length. It gives us a lot of privacy, even though there are so many other people living nearby. Most of them are old and nearly ready to retire. We don't have much in common with them."

Martin slowed the car to turn into the drive. He cursed to several bearded surfers standing near the entranceway, their thumbs out. "I don't know how the hell they expect to get a ride carrying those boards with them," he said.

The two boys waved the "V" sign at them and smiled. They had no need for white convertibles, except for transportation's sake. No one in the car returned the greeting. Martin and Darleen didn't care and the other couple were too worried about their own plight.

"Come on," Martin said after he stopped the car in the driveway. "I'll show you two the boat."

"I had better unload the car," Greg replied.

"Okay. Darleen, you help him and I'll show Janet our little Kon Tiki," he said, taking her hand forcefully and leading her down the stone path to the boathouse sixty feet from the cabin.

Janet held back as much as she dared. She was afraid to go anywhere alone with Martin, under the circumstances and kept looking back at her husband, hoping he would come with them. But he only watched her for a moment, then opened the trunk and began lifting out suitcases and groceries. Oh, well, Martin wouldn't dare do anything so soon, she thought. Not with her husband so close by.

She stood behind him as he unlocked the padlock that fastened the boathouse door. Another key opened the door on the lock, and he opened it, stepping aside for her to enter first.

For a moment she forgot her fears. A beautiful, thirty-foot sailboat lay in shallow water before her. The mast stood tall in the boathouse, its top thrust through a hole in the roof. She could see the canvas that would be folded back in order to let the tall spire slide out of its prison whenever it was ready to sail.

Martin watched her as she scanned the sleek lines of the sloop. "It sleeps four comfortably," he said. "We might even give it a try while we're here. Darleen and I readied her for sailing last weekend. It's an experience you won't forget as long as you live."

Janet didn't hear anything he said. She was picturing herself and Greg sailing away from Los Angeles, away from the entire civilized world on the boat, escaping from every problem that plagued them, particularly his embezzlement and her obscene affair with Martin that was threatening to destroy her.

Putting his arm around her waist, he pulled her to him for a second, "Come on, I'll show you the inside. You'll like the cabin. Darleen decorated it."

She held his hand as she walked down the small gangway to the shining mahogany deck. "Eighty thousand dollars," she heard him say. "My wife's father was a reasonably wealthy man. He left her enough money to keep me from working the rest of my life, but I enjoy being active. It keeps me young."

Her hand rubbed the smooth finish on the dark rail and cupped the shiny brass cover of one of the running lights. The boat seemed alive to her, ready to take off and fly across the mysterious sea. It rocked slightly as they walked across the deck and she was scared for a moment. It was nearly dark in the boathouse, the only light coming from a single window and a hole in the roof, which beamed a shaft of light dimly onto the deck.

She marveled at the simplicity of the lines that rose to the mast. Each had a job to do. She could easily imagine the sails set, full and billowing with the wind pushing them to their maximum as they pulled the boat through the ocean. She could feel the salt spray splashing at her sunburned skin as she tugged at the helm, trying to keep on course.

Then her dream broke as Martin lifted the cover that secured the hatch and opened the entrance to the ladderway. She didn't want to go below with him, but her love at first sight for the boat led her on. She wanted to see more and she strangely felt almost at home here in its grand simplicity.

The ladderwell was dark and the light from outside cast eerie shadows on the bulkhead as she descended. She was careful not to lose her footing and be embarrassed before the eyes of the beautiful boat, which she felt was her friend. Carefully she reached the bottom and stood still in the darkness.

"Wait here," Martin said and walked across the cabin, his head slightly bent, to turn on the light. "The other switch is temporarily out. It could get hairy at night trying to find this switch. A heavy sea could wreck an inexperienced sailor just trying to walk across the cabin in the dark."

He continued talking, showing her the particulars of the living accommodations, but she did not hear him. Her eyes searched every corner of the cabin, devouring all of it. Though Darleen had designed the insides, it was entirely a masculine ship. Janet thought that this boat could never be called a she, it was all man; all strong, powerful man.

The woodwork seemed heavy in its darkness. The brass shined as only a man could have polished it. The boat had been given loving care by the Kellys and she found herself wondering how two people who loved a thing so much could be so cruel to other people.

A moment later, the answer became obvious to her.

She tried to stop thinking, when she watched Martin draw one of the bunks from the wall. It unfolded into a five by six foot double bed, complete with sheets and pillows. Oh, no, she thought, her mind recoiling as she watched him work. Not here, not now, with Greg and Darleen outside. He wouldn't dare!

Martin said nothing and made no move towards her as he completed his task and stepped forward to the bow and closed the door. Janet still did not move. She just could not let him take her like this as though she were just someone he had picked up moments before off the streets. She had to put him off some way until the others came. Her heart was beating like a drum and she breathed a short sigh of relief as he disappeared momentarily into the small closet-like toilet. It would give her time to collect her suddenly disorganized thoughts.

But then, after what seemed only an instant in time, she heard the toilet flush and saw the door open, Martin stood before her naked and then she knew there would be no escape. He was demanding her body now even thought he must know Greg would come looking for them in a few minutes.

Why? she thought desperately. Why does he want to do this. "Martin," she suddenly pleaded with him. "We can't. Greg and Darleen will be down here soon. What if they caught us?"

"Don't worry about him. Darleen will see to it that he doesn't bother us." He grinned obscenely at her from his nakedness in the dim light, his eyes cruel and unyielding.

Janet did not believe him, but felt powerless. She looked at his naked body and his organ hanging limply down from loins. She could see that it was starting to fill with blood, inflating itself with desire. She wanted to run but knew better. He would only make things worse for both she and Greg later on if she did not bow to his demands now.

Turning, she started slowly up the ladderway. Martin watched her, not moving, not saying a word. He knew what would happen. She reached the top, and stood still for a moment, thinking of the swelling penis that awaited her below. It wasn't right, but he had the upper hand she tried to rationalize, but knew even as she fought within herself, that she was lying to herself. She wanted him and nothing could change that. She took another step up and heard him laugh softly behind her as she mechanically pulled the cover over the hatch.

Slowly she turned around after securing the hatch with a hook, to keep intruders out. She descended the ladder back to the cabin where Martin still stood where she had left him. He was smiling arrogantly, his body silhouetted by the single light behind him. She wished he would turn it off but knew that it would be left on. It was one of his prices that he watch her succumbing to him, that he actually see her repulsion turning slowly to lust as he played upon her naked body. With instructions she began to unbutton her blouse. He stared at her fingers awaiting the moment when her breasts would fall free from their constricting cover and breath hungrily at the fresh salt air.

She hung the blouse on a hook by her head and removed her shorts and silk panties quickly at the same time. Then, hanging them beside her blouse, she stood silently for his inspection, knowing that he wanted to see her before he took her.

There would be no Greg to save her now and no way out. This was the man who had taken her in the most horrible, unthinkable ways and made her like it. He had humiliated her beyond all recall by simply telling her what to do, and making her blindly follow his instructions without protest. She had even stood before him in her own kitchen, nude and masturbated herself into shame simply because he had commanded her to do it. Now they were again alone, this time deep in the belly of this beautiful boat, about to do it again while her husband kept company with his wife not over a hundred feet away. What had happened to her? She had no more pride left as a human being and followed his commands like an obedient animal.

She felt like a helpless slave as she stood feeling the salt air flow cool around her naked thighs. There was no excitement in her. She was a machine until she turned her gaze to Martin and her eyes dropped involuntarily to his loins.

His penis had filled with desire. He had been standing in the same spot, his hands on his hips, watching her as she stood nude and vulnerable before him. His imagination had taken him already to the bed, thinking of the ways he would take her there. Now he was hard. His massive prick jutted out from his body like a harpoon poised to strike at a fleeing whale.

Her eyes were glued to the glistening head that rose and fell with his pulse as he stood watching her. Her next task was simple. She would walk to him, but... not like she was. She could not let him take her cold. It was bad enough to be a slave, but if she were completely cold, she would be no better than a common prostitute. If he were to take her, he would have to make her feel it, he would have to make her want it. It was her condition, the one rule she could make.

Martin did not have to be told to excite her. He wanted her as hot as he could possibly get her. He wanted her to submit to him and beg him to fuck her. It would increase the satisfaction no end.

As he walked toward her, she took a few steps in his direction. Without trying she could feel the tips of her nipples rise in erection, imitating the hard flesh that jutted from his body. A red flush spread across her cheeks and chest. Her breasts bounced slightly with each step and the quiet rolls of the yacht. She stopped, her feet spread wide, her hands placed defiantly on her hips.

So she wants to be a leader, he thought. She thinks that she can make me do as she wishes. Guess again young lady. He reached out and pinched her right-nipple with his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped at the sudden unexpected pain.

He laughed at her surprised look. She had not expected anything so sudden, or quite so painful. Greg had never taken the liberty to pinch her breasts. He had always caressed them gently with his hands, but nothing further. She dropped her hands to her sides as he let go of the sore nipple.

Her head fell back for a moment, then rolled forward just in time to see the top of Martin's head as he bent and wetly touched his lips to her nipple. No one had ever paid so tender attention to her breasts. The memory of the pain of a moment before was gone as he caressed the involuntarily hardening tip with his tongue.

He played for a moment with it, then suddenly sucked the whole end of her breasts between his teeth, forcing the firm flesh to give as he took as much as he could into his mouth, sucking at it like a nursing baby.

Janet had heard of women climaxing from breast stimulation, but had never been stimulated by it herself. Now she experienced something new. She was not surprised, though. Martin seemed to know every secret thing about her body, though he had only touched her twice before. Every pore, every nerve was at his command. She could feel her clitoris hardening to its own erection between her legs, lubricated by the damp fluids that were slowly beginning to seep from her vagina...

It was so sweet, she thought, her head lolling back and forth on her shoulders. Her eyes were closed as she imitated the rocking of the boat as it rolled gently in the swells coming from the sea. She anticipated the mooring of the rock hard penis into the soft flesh of her vagina and the lewd thought started another flood of cuntal liquids within her. The warm, tantalizing fluid found its way from the thin hair-lined opening between her closed thighs and trickled slowly onto the white flesh of her upper legs. She was trembling with excitement.

Her repulsions as Martin, his mouth still locked tightly to her breasts, knew were vanishing with each passing moment. The luxury and strangeness of the boat, her nakedness, and even the fact that her own husband might suddenly come bursting in and find her being fucked half to death by another man, thrilled and frightened her as she had never been frightened before. She felt a thrilling desire to be completely debauched and ravished, her fleeting guilt soaring away in the wind of passion that was suddenly enveloping the whole of her now writhing body.

She made no protest as Martin, his tongue swirling around her breast, slowly and deliberately pushed her back toward the sagging mattress of the bunk. She was ready, roared through her mind. God, was she ready and groaned in protest when she felt his lips leave her momentarily as the backs of her knees touched the edge of the bunk and she fell back limply on the waiting mattress. Her eyes opened and she could see him standing above her, his wide-eyed gaze locked to the juncture of her open thighs.

"Oh God, Martin, come to me! Please come to me," she murmured between her tightly clenched teeth, her arms outstretched to receive him.

And then he did, the flesh of his body covering her like a warm protective blanket, his chest panting down and squashing her hard, firm breasts down into her chest until she could hardly breath. She quivered beneath him in a strange, glowing, sensual delight as he whispered down into her ear.

"God, I'm going to fuck you this time like I never have before."

"Oh God, Martin, Please do. Fuck me good this time, fuck me good." she whimpered. "Do it quick before Greg comes."

He grunted and their mouths locked wetly together and she squirmed and writhed her body hotly up against his nakedness. Her hand slid hungrily down between their tightly locked bodies and forced its way between them to grasp the throbbing head of his hardened cock.

"Ooooh, baby, you are learning, you are learning," he groaned into her open mouth as she stroked gently at his loins, curling her slim fingers lasciviously down around the softness of his testicles. He moaned spasmodically and his cock jerked up of its own volition away from her grasping fingers.

She murmured and a gasp of protest died as his head dropped and his mouth moved voraciously down over her neck and breasts, bringing mixed gasps of pain and pleasure as he nipped at them teasingly with the sharpness of his teeth. And then his probing tongue moved on away and he slid down her body. His lips cut a searing trail beneath her breasts and down to the slight indentation of her navel, then swirled there momentarily, driving her almost insane as he began a further descent.

"Do you want me to lick you there," he suddenly lifted his lips from the smooth whiteness of her belly and teased.

"Oooooooh, yes, Martin, do it, for God's sakes do it!" she whimpered down at his grinning face outlined cherub-like between her uplifted thighs.

"Do what," he teased further, blowing the heat of his breath tantalizing down between her open legs.

"Suck me," she hissed her words rolling out unashamedly. "Oh God, stick your tongue in my cunt and fill me with it! Fill me with it!"

And suddenly she had no longer to wait. He nuzzled her thighs far apart with his shoulders and pressing his thumbs outward on the soft, hair-lined lips of her cunt, slowly opened the smooth pink slit until the tight, throbbing mouth was completely exposed to his delighted gaze. She curled her legs around his neck and pressed the soft inner flesh of her thighs tightly against his ears. Her loins were a hot, raging whirlpool and her mouth opened, a long low banshee scream rolling from between her lips. Like a moving snake, his tongue had slithered wetly into her cunt, sending a sharp, quivering spasm racing up her spine.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh," she chanted as he swirled it lasciviously around and around in the warm, liquid depths, flicking teasingly at the tight contracting walls of her burning pussy.

"Oh, oh, oh, ooooohhh," she murmured on and on, her head flailing helpless from side to side on the swaying bunk.

He licked and sucked as though he were trying to devour the whole of her open crotch, using lips and teeth and his wildly thrusting tongue as though he were a starving animal. Wet, moist sucking noises echoed through the small interior of the cabin increasing Janet's excitement almost to the bursting point. She wanted him inside her, wanted to feel that huge, throbbing prick of his reaming her cunt inside out until there was nothing left of either of them.

She tangled her hands desperately in his bobbing hair, her eyes tightly closed in the ecstasy of the moment.

"Get between my legs, Martin," she breathed, her voice coming in small mewling gasps, "Get up on top of me and put your cock in my cunt. I want you to fuck me... fuck me..."

The obscenity and wild abandon of her own words was making her blood run faster, causing her head to spin slightly. The effect adding to the sudden illusion that the whole of her body was nothing more than a great gaping cunt, a cunt that had to he fucked and fucked until it slowly disappeared into nothingness. Nothing else mattered in the world but this feeling of lewd, intense longing. Nothing else at all, not her husband, not his wife, not the money. Only this wonderful throbbing, swirling ball of white, hot heat burning in her belly as his tongue sliced mercilessly down there between her jerking thighs.

Martin crawled up her body, forcing her thighs even farther apart. She was wet and wide open to the hardened cock protruding now like a tree out from the forest of his pubic hair. Her cunt was like a hot, scorching furnace waiting for the life-giving fuel to be shoveled to it.

And then it came.

With one long hard thrust of his hips he shattered into her. Long, strong, and superbly smooth. His huge, pulsating cock, battered into her like the log it resembled, pushing the smooth fleshy walls of her steaming cunt in rippling waves before its surging power.

"Aaaaaaaaggghhh! Martin! Oooooooooh, Martin. You're a God! You're a God," she whimpered and moaned out her pleasure beneath him as she suddenly felt it grind to a halt at the farthest tip of her cervix. His balls slapped heavily down against her upturned anus causing her to jerk again at the unexpected sensation and bringing one long, heart-rending scream of ecstasy from her open mouth. And then, without stopping its movement, it began to move around deep inside her belly, in and out, never pausing, always digging, seeming to go farther and farther all the time as though it were a great crawling monster squirming around inside her.

She grunted and kicked her legs out wide on either side of his grinding hips, wriggling her buttocks lasciviously down and around on the slippery coverlet of the squeaking bunk. She was one great pool of wetness between her thighs and the walls of her cunt clasped hungrily at the thrusting cock pummeling into her, the fire she felt transmitting itself to her mind and blotting out all thought of anything but the magnificent fucking she was getting at the hands of this man whom she otherwise detested. She was vaguely aware of his hands running over her, cupping her soft, squirming buttocks, then probing and tearing at her upturned rectum as the heat of his body swarmed over her, twisting and grinding deeper and deeper into her lust inflamed pussy.