CHAPTER FOUR
The sex-ravaged young housewife fell into a numbed sleep shortly after the exhausting orgasm she experienced from Art's brutal assault, and did not revive until the bright morning sunlight came pouring through her bedroom window next morning. As her eyes fluttered open and she gradually became more awake, she suddenly remembered, with a fearful shudder that tore through her white naked body, all that had happened the night before. Yet she was alone on the bed, and at first she wondered if the incredible incident hadn't been some sort of terrifying nightmare. Perhaps she had fallen asleep and imagined the whole thing. But as her mind became more alert, she heard noises in the kitchen on the floor below and knew instinctively that what had happened was no cruel dream. It was real… horribly real.
She sat up in bed, nervously clutching the sheet around her abused young form and glanced around the room. The daring black lace nightie she had put on so impulsively lay in a crumpled heap next to the bed, and the sheets were disheveled where her young tormentor had spent the night sprawled out next to her.
Oh God, she thought miserably for what seemed like the hundredth time, why is this happening to me?
She desperately wished she could somehow contact Tim and tell him what was happening, but she knew that was impossible. Art was no fool, even if it was apparent that he was somehow mentally unbalanced, and Susan knew he would keep a sharp eye on her to make sure she wouldn't try calling for help. At the same time, she remembered that Tim had promised to call that afternoon — maybe she could somehow let him know she was in trouble. Maybe the strike was over and he was already flying home to her. These thoughts gave her a shred of courage and hope, enough at least to face her tormentor again, and she threw the sheet aside and got out of bed.
Within a few minutes she had washed and dressed herself in the most demure housedress she could find, determined not to wear anything remotely seductive in the hope of keeping her young assailant at bay. Yet, despite her revulsion and hatred for Art, she was also aware that something had happened to her last night that was undeniably exciting. For the first time in her young life she had experienced not only the titillating pleasures of the body, but also her first full orgasm — not only one, but several, each more overwhelming than the last. It troubled her deeply that such an incredible awakening should happen to her under such humiliating circumstances. How was it possible that she could experience something so wonderful at the hands of a degenerate sadist? Was life such an unfathomable paradox that it allowed her an extraordinary breakthrough only under the most shameful of situations?
She paused as she reached the bedroom door, her mind once more a maze of conflicting emotions, hesitant to go downstairs and face the cruel young drifter. But she knew there was no choice, and, squaring her shoulders with determination, she went out into the hall and descended the stairs. She was surprised to detect the familiar smells of breakfast cooking. The delicious aroma of fresh coffee permeated the house, and the crackling sounds she heard could only be bacon sizzling on the griddle. Reaching the entrance to the kitchen she stopped short, her mouth hanging open in astonishment, at the sight that greeted her eyes.
Art was seated at the kitchen table, stark naked, sipping coffee and devouring a huge plate of eggs, potatoes and bacon, and at the stove, also stark naked, save for a short apron tied around her waist, was a young girl, a complete stranger!
"Hi, baby," Art remarked with a sneer as he glanced up at the wide-eyed young wife. "This here's Tanya, my girl friend. I brought her back with me last night."
"Hiya honey," the girl said casually, as she lifted some bacon from the pan with a fork.
Tanya was a tall girl, nearly five-seven, with a voluptuous figure, and a pretty heavily made-up face topped by a huge bouffant of platinum blonde hair. Her fully curved young body was tanned from the sun and shone with a coppery gleam. Her ripely rounded breasts were enormous and thrust out like two huge fleshy spheres coming to sharp points where they poked against the material of the top part of the apron. Her waist was narrow where it gave way to the swelling bloom of her hips. She seemed completely at ease, as if she had lived in Susan's house all her life, and went on with her cooking as if nothing at all unusual were happening.
"Hungry, sweetie?" she asked the young wife, who stood at the entrance to the kitchen as if paralyzed. "I can cook up some eggs real fast."
"Sure she's hungry," Art remarked with a snicker, "after all the fucking I threw into her last night."
Susan blushed with shame at his remark, although Tanya giggled like a little girl and gave the degraded young wife a knowing wink.
"I'm… I'm not hungry," Susan said weakly. "Maybe… some coffee."
"Sure, coffee's on the table," the statuesque blonde said.
The young wife began to move hesitantly toward the kitchen table, where Art sat staring at her mischievously.
"Why don't you take those clothes off first, baby," he said, his eyes glittering darkly, "like the rest of us. It's too hot to wear clothes."
"I… I don't think so…" Susan answered, instinctively clutching at the top button of her housedress.
"I said take your clothes off," Art snapped, his voice taking on a menacing tone. "Right now!"
"Better do as he says, sweetie," the blonde girl said. "It ain't good to sass Art. Hell, one time I wouldn't do as he said and he damn near whipped me senseless."
"Yeah, but you enjoyed it, didn't you, cunt?" the drifter said.
"Course I enjoyed it honey," she replied. "I always do, don't I?"
"Sure, baby, that's why I love you so much." He turned once again toward the visibly shaking form of the young wife. "So strip, bitch, or do I have to teach you the hard way?"
Susan knew she had no choice but to obey her cruel young master, and with trembling fingers she began to unbutton the front of her housedress. Both Art and Tanya stared with lascivious interest as the young wife slowly removed first her dress and then her undergarments, until finally her petite young frame was completely naked. Folding her clothes carefully, Susan placed them on a kitchen chair and then walked to the table, her gleaming white skin tinged with pink from embarrassment as the other two continued to ogle her lustily.
"Well, you sure weren't just whistlin' Dixie when you said she was cute, Art," Tanya chirped. "Why sweetie you got a figure that must be tasty as a Georgia peach!"
Trying to ignore the others, Susan sat down with as much modesty as possible in the situation, and poured a cup of coffee. As she sipped the hot liquid, her mind came fully awake and she glanced around the kitchen. She was shocked to realize that the place was a mess. Cracked egg shells lay scattered everywhere. Papers, broken cups, coffee grounds, and garbage had been strewn throughout the carefully decorated room as if rowdy children had been suddenly turned loose. A surge of anger flashed through her brain as she realized how thoughtlessly they had gone through the place, invading the privacy of her home, and turning the kitchen, at least, into a pigsty. The young wife always prided herself on the orderliness of her surroundings, and she was surprised to find herself growing furious at the intruders not only for the sexual degradation that had been forced upon her, but also for the rudeness they displayed toward her environment.
Funny, she thought to herself, I'm almost more unhappy about what they've done to my kitchen than what they've done to me.
"How ya feelin' this mornin' baby?" Art inquired with a smirk.
"All… all right," Susan replied. Although she hadn't thought about it until now, she realized that despite the fact that her mind was torn with anxiety, her body felt refreshed and rested, as if the carnal side of her nature had been quite satisfied by the moral outrage she had suffered. The only unpleasant reminder of the obscene debauch she had been subjected to was a faintly gnawing ache she felt in her vaginal area. And yet even this was not physically uncomfortable or distressing.