"Never sucked on a prick, huh? Well, it's real nice, I'm told, real nice. Looks like this is gonna be your first time."
He stood up arrogantly, his hugely distended column swaying up and down as it jutted out from his groin in eager erection. Susan knew at once that he was going to force her to take his thick penis in her mouth, and the idea made her mind reel in agonized disbelief, while her vulnerable young body pressed back into the soft upholstery of the sofa almost as if trying to disappear. Art began to move slowly toward her like a sly tomcat approaching a frightened, pinioned little bird, his tongue flicking out and running over his lips in hungry anticipation.
"Art… please… Don't make me do this…"
But the young tormentor's only reply was to laugh darkly, mockingly, at the terrified young bride. Finally he stood in front of her, his legs wide apart, his massively swollen cock pointing out at her from his loins like some obscene accusation, his bloated testicles tightening like prunes in lusty expectation.
"Pucker up, baby," he snarled, "cause my prick's gonna jam down your throat whether you like it or not."
"No… no please!" she cried out anxiously. But Art couldn't have cared less how much she pleaded for mercy or sympathy. She was going to suck his cock good, and she was going to do it right now. Roughly he reached out, grabbed her arm, and yanked her off the sofa, forcing her to kneel before him like an abject servant. She tried to twist her face away so she wouldn't have to stare at the lurid sight of his hotly throbbing cock and balls so close to her face, but he pulled her hair roughly with his hand and forced her to turn back.
"Oooooh," she moaned, "You're hurting me."
"That's nothing to what I'll do to you if you don't wrap your mouth around my cock real fast, understand?"
Suddenly the phone rang, and the jangling bell startled both of them. Art released his grip on her hair and ran to get his knife. The phone rang again.
"Okay, baby, you're gonna answer that phone an' act as if nothin' at all is goin' on, and if you don't, you're gonna feel cold steel on your throat." He swiftly grabbed her arm, lifted her to her feet, and walked with her to the hall where the telephone stood. "I'm gonna be right here beside you, and if you make one false move, that's it. You understand, bitch?"
Susan nodded, gulping back the tears and stifling a cry of terror.
"Now pick up the phone and we'll both listen and see who it is."
He stood next to her, the open knife in his hand, as the anxious young wife picked up the phone, holding it slightly away from her ear so that Art could hear also.
"Hello?" she said, trying her best to conceal her fright.
"Susan? It's Tim."
"Tim!" She wanted to cry out to him and tell him to come home at once, but she knew she couldn't. "Where… where are you?"
"In Boston." Her heart sank. Her one hope was that the plane strike was over and he was on the way back. "The damn strike's still on. They're still saying it could be over anytime, but there's been no breakthrough. How're you doing back there? Not too bored, I hope?"
"No… no…"
"I can't hear you, honey, can you speak louder?"
"I'm fine, Tim… fine…"
"This delay's working out pretty well actually. I've had drinks with some of the people at Everest Mutual, and I think there might be a job opening, at twice what I'm making now."
"Oh, that's… that's wonderful, Tim… I'm very happy…"
"Susan is there anything wrong? You sound kind of strange?"
Art placed the tip of his knife near her throat, glaring at her angrily.
"No… no I'm fine Tim… I just miss you, that's all."
"I miss you too, honey. I can't wait to get back. But this thing could drag on forever."
Oh no, Susan cried inwardly, please no! Oh God let the strike be over soon, please.
"I… I wish you'd come home, darling," she said, trying to mask her fear.
"I do too, but there's nothing to be done. Listen, I've got to go now. I promised to have a drink with Hawkins from Liberty Funds and he's waiting. You have a nice weekend, okay? Take in a movie or something, and when I get back we'll go out to dinner and have a real bash. Okay?"
"Okay… please come home as soon as you can… please…"
"Sure thing, honey. Take care. I love you."
"I love you too…"
There was a click on the other end, and Susan knew the call was over. Tim was still in Boston and might not be back for days. It was hopeless. Art took the phone receiver from the numbed young wife's hand and replaced it on the hook, smiling darkly.
"Well, baby, it looks like our romance ain't over yet!" Putting the knife on the telephone table, he suddenly pushed her down to her knees, making sure she was in no position to unexpectedly grab the knife, so that she was once more face to face with the enormous girth of his still-erect shaft of throbbing cock. "Now, let's finish what we started."
Susan knew she had no alternative but to do as he asked. His enormously thickened penis waved obscenely in front of her terror-stricken eyes as Art slowly pulled back the soft foreskin to reveal the pulsating ruddy head that seemed to leer at the anxious young wife like the eye of a demon from hell. How could she take such a shamefully huge thing into her mouth and actually suck on it? Once in a while, she remembered, her husband had hinted to her that he would like it, and she had always refused to even consider such a humiliating thing. Surely this was the lowest degradation that could be inflicted on a woman! Her lips tightened in fear at the prospect of taking his lust-thickened penis into her mouth.
"Open your mouth, bitch," he snarled, gripping her once more cruelly by the hair to force her face closer to his excited genitals. "Suck it!"
Closing her eyes to blot out the horrible sight, Susan opened her mouth and locked her lips around the tip of his obscenely extended penis. She was initially surprised at the velvety texture of the huge cock-head, although there was a gagging sensation in her throat as she took it into her mouth. Timidly she let her trembling lips suck on his passion-bloated hardness, struggling to please her merciless tormentor. Suddenly Art gripped her fiercely by the hair, this time with both hands, and shoved his thick swollen cock halfway into her resistant oral cavern, grating his penile flesh over the sharp edges of her teeth.
The young wife gasped and gagged again, shocked to feel the tremendous bulk of his cock-shaft shoved between her lips. She closed her mouth around it and began to suck and lick the massive intrusion, although she had little idea of exactly what to do to satisfy Art. After the initial trauma, however, she was amazed to find that the texture and sensation were not altogether as loathsome as she had expected. In fact there was something intriguing about the fleshy rod, something that almost made her want to suck it eagerly. Inwardly she reprimanded herself for being so lewd and shameless in her thoughts, yet it was undeniable that an instinctive desire was beginning to take hold of her, a strange craving that she did not understand.
Art thrust again, this time forcing the entire length of his hotly excited penis all the way into her mouth and halfway down the back of her throat. Again the terrified young wife gagged in tense resistance. Yet once she adjusted to its enormous thickness, she found that by relaxing her throat muscles she could continue to suck on it with a minimum of discomfort.
"Suck harder," Art commanded as he began to thrust his hips back and forth slowly, working the thick rigid member in and out of the tightly clutching circle of her lips.
Trembling with fear and shame, Tim Jameson's kneeling young wife did her best to comply with the lustful demands of her deranged master. Her eyes closed in the hope of erasing from her consciousness any awareness of the debased act she was being forced to perform, she tried to keep the muscles of her mouth and jaw relaxed to accommodate the fleshy protrusion of his thick-girthed column of flesh. Involuntarily her throat contracted, producing a gagging sound as it tried to expel the unwanted intruder, and the humiliated girl felt faint. For a moment she reeled unsteadily on her knees, almost overwhelmed by a wave of dizziness, and she would have fallen over if Art had not maintained his vise-like grip on her head.