Chapter 3

What now? Oh god, what now? Vicky was lying in bed, Debbie already gone to school. Her mind was spinning, trying to overcome the dreamy urge to remember every moment of the night before. They had parted wordlessly, with a small kiss, and he pressed his business card in her hand. It was on the dresser. "Any time, any night, whatever you want, Victoria." Written in a neat, careful script.

She wanted him. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to hurt them, to hurt terrible men. She moaned to the room, wishing she could somehow change her raging thoughts. But she had freed them, and now they wouldn't leave her alone. She felt more terrible desires. In her ass. She had never done that. More than one man. A woman. Ohhhhh what was happening.

She swung her legs to the floor, and better control returned. She vaguely felt her body's surging happiness. In spite of a couple of fresh bruises. Fulfilled as never before. She shook her head. Sorry John. But there it is. Was it forbidden fruit? Release of the ugly, repressed side of her soul? It had felt too good to resist. Would talking to him help?

She staggered downstairs, filling a large glass with orange juice, gulping it down. Funny. No coffee. She made some, and waited for Connie. But three cups later, there was still no sign of her. The coffee helped her regain control of her thoughts, as she began to worry about her sister. Was she sick, or maybe had left early for some reason. No, there would have been coffee. She must be upstairs. Filling a cup, and carrying her own, she went up to see.

As she neared the closed bedroom door, she heard quiet sobs. She burst in, and Connie was sprawled on her bed, naked. She had a voluptuous body, big breasts like Vicky, and the same curves without the fitness. A few extra pounds, but young enough to carry it seductively. A surge of fear and affection for her young sister surfaced as the older woman hurried to the bed and wrapped the young blonde in her arms. As the pretty face raised to stare vacantly at her concerned face, Vicky saw the bruises.

One cheekbone was already an ugly dark blue. The other side of her face had a black eye, and there was a little split lip. "Oh Connie, darling, why did he do it? How could he? The bastard." Connie started crying hard, tears streaming down her face. Vicky hugged her tightly, careful of the beat up face, and rocked back and forth. Minutes passed as she tried to comfort her little sister, the way she always had when they were young. Slowly the frantic release of emotion eased.

Once the worst was over, Vicky hurried downstairs and brought a bottle of Kahlua up, filling each of their cups with a generous dose, and helping Connie get it down. She waited for the warming effect of the alchohol and sugar. As it came, the blonde began to relax. She sipped her own more slowly, beginning to plot revenge for this assault. The closeness they had once felt came rushing back to them, and she pulled her robe off and crawled into bed beside Connie, hugging to her. Their tits pressed together, their hips too.

Vicky started to feel perverse desire, mixed somehow with her anger. Her generous, warm sister. So tender, so vulnerable. As she imagined hurting Steven, her pussy creamed, and she pulled Connie closer. But her sense of sexual excitement wasn't returned. Her sister was too devastated by shame, fear, and pain. Get under control, she thought. But an impulse had awakened. Along with concern for Connie, her mind roared with her strange need.

Connie refused to go to the hospital, and Vicky dressed the cut on her lip, and helped put ice on the bruises on her face. There was some redness in her stomach too, but it didn't seem to be too bad. "He gets so angry at me when I want to make love, Vic. This is the first time he hit my face, but it's been this way for years. He hurts me, then fucks me, just a quick in and out. For a while, he was apologetic, but lately it's as though he enjoys the whole hurting thing. I've wanted to tell you, but he kept saying he'd kick you out."

Vicky took some Polaroids of her face. "Once this shit starts they never quit, Con. We have to watch out for it in students. Some of the women are trying to learn to fight back."

They were still drinking spiked coffee, and it was having an effect. Connie whispered "Will you do it to him, Vic? Hurt him bad? Pay him back?"

"You bet, Con. But it won't help, sometimes that kicks them over into even worse things. You have to get him away from you, out of the house, then he has to get counseling. But if you want my advice, you'll just divorce him quick. They don't get better very often."

"He'll come home for lunch, Vic. He always does after a night like that."

"Pack him a suitcase, darling. I'll call that lawyer who did my estate. He was thoughful and understanding. And you know I'll stay with you." They had been sitting together on the couch, and Connie embraced her, and they kissed gently. This time, Vicky felt something more than sisterly affection. She pushed the woman away tenderly. "I know, I know, darling. But get that bag packed."

Vicky had too much experience with battering. Her physical ability to stand up to men had led her to counsel several women at the dojo, and she had read about it extensively. The unique advantage for Connie was her presence, protective and making the right action much easier than usual. Most women were nearly defenseless against their husbands. She felt suddenly useful, dealing with a problem she understood. It was good for her to get out of the funk her strange relationship with Peter had created.

Just as Connie descended the stairway with a large suitcase, the front door burst open and Steven was standing there. He had a look of sheepish concern on his face, but when he saw Vicky, in pants and her bound chest, the look changed to a snarl. "Are you interfering again, bitch?"

Vicky resisted the urge to start in on him immediately. Connie glanced nervously at her sister, then with a choked voice, told him "You're leaving, Steven. I'm talking to a lawyer this afternoon. I've had enough of your shit."

He started for Connie, but Vicky stepped between them. The anger in his face made him ugly, but she stayed on the balls of her feet, not threatening but ready. She felt the excitement start, the sense of pleasure at what was coming. He hesitated, confusion and fear showing. But then he charged, the anger, even hate, overcoming his fear of Vicky. Her left hand shot into his chin, the heel snapping his head back, making his tall frame straighten. Her right hand in a fist caught him sharply in the solar plexus, and the breath rushing from his lungs made a screech even as he collapsed to his knees.

Connie was screaming. "Don't Steven, stop, stop." She ran down past them both and threw the suitcase out into the yard. "Get out, get out." But Steven wasn't paying attention, just gasping and snarling at Vicky. Come to me asshole. Let me kick the shit out of you. She stared at him, knowing her calm was infuriating him. Her cunt was tingling delightfully.

He lunged at her, and she sidestepped and drove her knee into his face, aiming at his nose. She felt the crunch of the brittle bone, and twisted aside as he fell face down. She got around so she was still between his prone body and Connie. She could hear her sister whimpering "Vicky, Vicky." Her body thrilled to the damage she was doing. He'll try one more time. Mmmmmm.

He was still getting a rush from the flow of stimulation the pain and confusion was causing in his out of control brain. He got up slowly, blood spurting from his nose, and cocked his arm, making a fist. His eyes were cloudy, and the rage was obvious. He swung at her head, but it seemed to be in slow motion. She let the punch slip by her face, stepped in and drove her knee into his groin, feeling the contact with soft tissue as well as his pubic bone. Right in the balls, she exulted. He went down like a stone, managing no sound except a soft groan.

As he lay there, doubled up and whimpering, Connie's arms went around her, hugging to her back. She felt the soft breasts, the hips in her ass cheeks. Her reward. "Yeah, Vic. Yeah." She grabbed the belt of his pants and the collar of his jacket and pulled him on his knees out the door, finally throwing him onto the grass near the valise. Two neighbors were watching.