Just as Max went dry, Linda felt her climax peak. She whipped her hips as best she could, throwing her head back, her hair splashing over her shoulders. Her eyes screwed tight into a squint while her fingers dug into her wrists. Oh, if only she could touch herself, bring herself off more powerfully. It was a cruel thing to experience orgasm without being able to intensify it with some kind of touch!
"Slut," Max grunted, watching her writhe helplessly under him.
Steadying himself with both hands, he wriggled his booted foot against her pussy. It was more than she could bear. The touch of that filthy leather boot against her hot pussy made her cry put again and again, throw her hips shamelessly around, grunt like a stuck pig.
Linda sat there, covered with piss, wondering what was next.
"Yeah, good for shit," Max sniggered, stepping out of the tub for a second and pulling off his boots.
She watched him squatting there on the toilet seat, stripping the lower half of his body, wonder ing what on earth she'd ever found attractive in him.
It wasn't Max so much but what he represented – rough manhood, something that would stand up to her, fight her, crush her. There was something in her personality that responded to that crudity, to that kind of violence. Even in her horrible condition Linda couldn't help feeling a high state of sexual arousal. It was a terrible thing to admit, but a true one. She waited, waited for the ultimate degradation. The woman had no doubt Max was preparing something most foul for her. As he pulled his faded dirty Levi's over his ankles and threw them over his boots, she knew it was only seconds away.
"Good for shit," he repeated, chuckling secretively as he climbed back into the tub.
His belly growled. He belched, sneering down at her. Linda flinched, guessing with a flash of horror what he had planned for her. He put his hands on his hips, turning around and squatting over her belly. She peered up, seeing the black thick growth of hairs darkening the crack between his ass cheeks. Just above her was his big shit hole stretched open by his pose. He held onto the sides of the tub, keeping himself from sliding around on the piss that now covered the entire floor of the stall.
"Don't move, baby."
Linda couldn't believe this. She wanted to faint, lose consciousness before it happened to her. She smelled something terribly foul. Once more a combination of fear and anger swelled through her. But the anger wasn't strong enough to resist. The fear and self-hatred racked her, making her stay there quietly as he grunted. The muscles in his legs and thighs strained as his buttocks jiggled above her.
"No! Oh God no!" she muttered.
Linda raised her knees, her thighs parting. Her belly muscles tensed. She opened wider, twisting to one side as the first jump of shit fell on her belly. Max was jerking off at the same time, grunting, farting, shifting on her while sliding his fingers up and don on that damned cock of his! She was so close to vomiting. How Linda managed to keep from vomiting she never knew. Somehow the woman kept lunch down as lump after lump of shit plopped down on her belly and thighs. Glancing up, she could see the hot cum dripping along the inner side of her right knee, mingling with the piss and the shit. It was the ultimate degradation. She felt numb now, almost impervious to the foul humiliation.
Max growled as the last of his spunk shot off and spattered down on her. She lay there helplessly, listening to the big trucker getting off this horrible way. When he was through, he stepped out of the tub, looking at his soiled feet, then squatting back down on the toilet seat and wiping them off with a bath towel.
"You look like a piece of horse shit, baby," Max said, laughing hard. "You gonna come through with your damned niece?" he asked, raising his eyebrows while throwing the towel away. He started dressing, puffing his pants up while still staring at Linda as if she were some kind of interesting art piece.
"Never!" she spat back, the smell rising from the tub.
"I should leave you like that… leave you so your fuckin' precious niece can rind you and figure out your number," Max said, chuckling.
He pulled his boots back on and slipped his flannel shirt over his broad shoulders. Humming some country and western tune, the big man bent down and untied the ropes holding Linda's ankles together, then reached around for the keys to the cuffs and freed her hands.
Linda sighed, rubbing her sore wrists, then she climbed out of the filth and mess under her. She retched, holding her hands to her mouth. She grabbed the towel Max had cleaned himself with. All the water in the world couldn't wash away the horror. It would take her forever to clean that tub, not to mention herself.
"I'll be back, baby, back to take care of you again. And you think about your niece," he said, pointing a finger at her as he ducked out of the bathroom.
Linda sank down on the toilet seat, covering her face with both hands and sobbing. She heard the sound of the back door slamming shut. Max was gone for the day.
She had to move, had to cleanup that foul mess, get ready far Janice who would be coming home any second. Even though her body ached, her buttocks and back stung from the beating. She had to move, act as if nothing had happened when her niece came home.
Somehow she managed to clean up the bathroom, finding more strength as the final traces of the piss and shit disappeared, gurgling down the drain. Linda washed herself well in the shower, twisting her lithe body under the stinging cold water, soaping herself down again and again as she thought of the horror Max had put her through.
What she found interesting was that she had actually enjoyed what had happened – enjoyed it at least in part. It was an experiment in depravity, in terror. And in spite of the anger she felt toward Max, Linda couldn't deny that her pussy had swollen open under the various attacks and that her cunt had gone good and hard.
She toweled herself dry, examining her bruised body in the mirror.
The savage belting had left long red and purple marks on her butt and back. Janice wouldn't be able to see them, thank God! There were a few scratch marks on her face. But her niece was so wrapped up in her own world that she wouldn't notice them.
Linda dressed hurriedly, slipping on what was one of her dowdier housedresses. She smiled in the mirror as she adjusted the plastic belt around her waist. God, she looked like the last person in the world who would have been involved in a sex orgy, especially one that just took place in her bathroom.
The front door slammed.
Linda jumped, then peered for a last time in the bedroom mirror. Oh, she was so sore and tired! She wanted to lie down, to sleep, to get away from the world. But there was her niece to raise. Janice had become almost ungovernable. If only her sister would come home and speak to her daughter. Janice was becoming something of a burden.
"To hell with it," Linda muttered, brushing back her hair and pinning it in a matronly bun. She basically enjoyed Janice's company, but there had been times when she could have turned the girl out.
The squeak of tennis shoes in the hall told Linda her niece was close at hand.
"Hi!" Janice chirped, sticking her head into the bedroom.
"Hi," Linda responded warmly. Well, at last they weren't at one another's throat as they usually were. Maybe this was some kird of truce, then Linda spotted the skimpy bathing suit Janice was wearing and frowned. How many times had site told her niece not to go trotting around town wearing that sort of thing. Even though this was sedate little Glendale, California, things could happen to a young girl when she exposed herself like that. The puritan side of Linda was rising, making her forget what had happened several minutes before.