Chapter 7

"Mistler, I want you to take me to see this thing."

"Are you sure? What would be the purpose? You'd only be torturing yourself."

"I want to see it, let's go."

Barker led the way. He knew where the old shed was, of course, but he wanted Mistler to show him the workings of the contraption.

How could Nora have conned herself into such a trap? Still, the supreme decadence of her action was one few women were capable of.

It was this fact that made him love her more than ever before. Like she was winking to him from the grave, flirting with him.

Her brazenness never ceased to astound him. He understood why she hadn't come to him with her problem.

His male ego would have gotten in the way. He would never be able to accept the fact that an animal was preferred over him.

He would have made her feel guilty, remorseful at ever conceiving such an unthinkable idea.

But, of course, no thought was unthinkable if you thought it. It was a contradiction in terms. You could try not to think about it but you still thought it.

That's what was hounding Melanie. Melanie felt her mother's sin. She was unconsciously being led down the same path.

But her mother had acted consciously and willingly. Hers was not the actions of an unknowing child.

She had actively sought the experience. The fantasy had preyed on her mind and Nora was not the kind of woman who refused to face herself.

Franklin had been the object of her lust for twenty years. He dearly loved and cherished all their passionate moments. Nora was an excellent lover. She had taken care of all his needs and satisfied his every desire.

Even as they got older their lovemaking never lost its fiery edge. Their orgasms still exploded with the passion of lusty teenagers.

Mistler opened the door to the shed and Barker stepped in ahead of him. His eyes fixed at the back of the shed.

He walked towards it slowly and his nostrils flared up from the smell of horse sweat that hung in the air.

"Do we keep horses in here all the time, Mullady?"

"You're speaking of the smell; No, sir, we do not, but that smell has been in here since the days of Nora's decadence."

"You wouldn't be pulling my leg, Mistler."

"I swear sir, no other horses have ever been in here. Just Lightning, those both times, and in three years the smell has never gone away."

"Take off the covering, Mullady."

He went to the monument and very slowly lifted off the felt covering that clothed the depraved contraption.

Barker's face turned pale at the apparition before him. It was right out of a nightmare. An eerie glow emanated from it.

It pained and yet thrilled him to know that the contraption came right out the fevered mind of his wife Nora.

She was capable of such odd tastes. She was the only woman he knew that would've ever had the nerve to bring a thing like this to life.

She must have been in terrible pain, both physically and mentally from the brute piercing her and the guilt that pulsed through her.

Franklin Barker knew that he was responsible for that guilt. Her mind conceived of the one thing that he would never have been able to grant her.

He thought he was the type of man who complemented her perfectly as a mate. He really tried to give her anything she wanted.

But instead of being satisfied like most women would've been, Nora always played a game with him. Whatever you gave her she wanted more. She stretched his love to the limit to see how far it would go.

You loved Nora because she allowed you to bask in her glow, not because you held her in your grip.

And then there's Melanie, so much like her mother, and capable of the same rare independence.

He had suspected that her preoccupation with Lightning bordered on the perverse. His suspicions had proved correct.

"Mullady, do you think it's possible that Melanie witnessed what happened here that night?"

"Impossible. That was my job. The mistress paid me 50,000 dollars to watch over them and make sure they weren't disturbed."

"Couldn't Melanie have peered in through one of the windows while you were watching Mrs. Barker's performance?"

"No, I kept a strict watch at all times. No one witnessed anything but I."

If Mistler could be believed, then what Dr. Dedalus had presumed to be intuitive insight on Melanie's part was indeed the case.

She had perceived her mother's crime of passion and was living it out in the real world.

Through her he had been able to retrace backward and uncover the event of her mother's sin.

The reason for her death was now clear. Nora's guilt at expressing her wild fantasy had played havoc with her mind.

Her brain must have pulsed with intense waves of guilt for having the nerve to make real her most decadent urge.

She felt that she had done Franklin a terrible wrong. It was so terrible that she could not confide to the person that loved her the most.

Because it would hurt him dearly to find out. He learned for the first time that Nora never really ever meant to hurt him.

She felt his pain for the things she forced him to put up with if he wanted the right to bask in her glow.

But she couldn't let that stop her from realizing herself and her own ambitions. Even at the price of love.

Melanie held the key to her salvation. It was Melanie who was showing Barker what had killed her mother.

"I've seen enough, Mullady. Put the covering back on." The felt covering blanketed the contraption. It no longer radiated its aura but a gentle hum pervaded Barker's ears.

The thing seemed to be alive. It was an inanimate object yet it seemed to pulsate with a special energy.

He couldn't help but think that the energy pulsing through it were the vestiges of his wife's wayward spirit.

She had experienced her moments of orgasm upon it. Her energies remained a flowing monument.

And Mistler had invented the contraption! It was a fascinating display of intense art and sculptural design.

He must have loved his mistress dearly and worked night and day until he had discovered the perfect masterpiece worthy of her dignity.

The miasma inside the shed was choking him. He had to leave there at once. Mullady bolted the door behind them.

He dismissed the ranch foreman and returned to his den and sat himself down on the cushiony lounge chair.

He kicked off his shoes and put his stocking feet atop the desk and rested his heavy head on the back of the chair.

As he relaxed he could see the sun setting on the horizon out from the picture window behind the oak desk.

It looked like a bleeding asshole. It radiated with an intense fury. The whole room became bathed in a red glow.

Tears welled up in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks and fell off his square jaw and stained his shirt.

A heavy sigh lifted from his lungs and echoed off the high- ceilings of his stately chamber.

It died out like an engine being turned off and he passed off into a deep sleep as soon as he closed his watery eyes.

He dreamt of Melanie. She was riding that damned horse. How he hated that beast. The sight of Lightning in his mind's eye made him livid.

Melanie was riding naked. She leaned over the horse's mane and brushed her hot breasts against it.

She was brimming with lust. Her face was beet-red. Her breaths were short gasps of thrilling delight.

They were galloping at full speed. She bobbed up and down on the smooth leather saddle and her cunt was wet.

The lips were a fiery red. Her whole underside burned with passion and was red from her heat and the slap of the saddle.

Lightning was speeding at full gallop but flying through the air with prancing arches and landing with light feet.

Melanie was taken away by the wild rhythm of his steady rhythmic bucking. Lightning raised his flanks just a notch on the way down so that Melanie could slap her gaping cunt on the smooth leather saddle with the added intensity of the horse's kickback.

She was paralyzed from being racked with one orgasm after another. Her cunt lips were dripping with her dew.

It made her slosh around on the saddle because it was painted with all the love juice that had poured out of her.

She came time and again. She pulled the horse up very meanly. She was drunk with passion and they stopped dead in their tracks.

She got off the horse and groped underneath for his limp cock. It looked like a stuffed leather pouch. Even in its limp state it was a magnificent length that kept one's eyes glued upon it in delectable fascination.

She bent down and took the cock in both hands and rubbed it in her sweet palms and pulled on the foreskin.

The cock began to respond to her loving touch and her eyes gazed fixedly at the rising stanchion.

She brought it up to her lips and lovingly kissed the massive cockhead that became wet with her spit.

She was totally enraptured from the tasty pole in her mouth and she closed her eyes in delicious passion and went to work on the cock.

She took as much of the instrument down her mouth that the cavern could bear. Her mouth was absolutely stuffed with cock.

She tried to gobble more and more of it down but it was beginning to stiffen from her fevered mouthing.

The harder she sucked the bigger it grew; Both hands strummed the surging staff whose foreskin became taut.

Up and down the rising shaft Melanie mouthed and fondled. She cupped the heavy balls and felt them in her palms.

The shaft became so hard that the bulbous cockhead popped out of her mouth. Melanie was incensed from the spectacle of its size.

She was frantic to get it back in her mouth but it just wouldn't fit. She wanted desperately to taste it again.

She had to satisfy herself by flicking her red tongue all over the shiny black truncheon that bobbed from her touch.