She had to admit it.
Because she couldn't deny it to herself any more!
"You love fucking, don't you!"
"Yes! Ohhhhhhh, yes! I love fucking!"
His prick thrust into her asshole. She felt it bucking and throbbing. She felt it stretching for her depths. She felt the shudders that came from her as her anal ring squeezed and sucked and went utterly wild around the hard, filling shaft.
She felt the steaming rush of sperm, heard his gurgling growl of orgasm, felt him lift and shake, and then she was done for.
Her whole body seemed to open up and accept the truth.
Her asshole went soft and wide for a moment, just enough to let his prick gain its final fraction of an inch. Her cunt tunnel fanned a wide, silken cavern. Her pussy lips filled to bursting and spread open as far as they could to let air and finger and whatever else wanted haven there into her vaginal cave.
Her mouth opened. Even her throat seemed to make a soft, undulating tube just meant for milking sperm from a hot prick. Her tits swelled to bursting, and her hard nipples felt as if they wanted to spurt something sweet and warm.
She paused that way for an eternity, it seemed. Even her heart stopped for that incredible moment.
And then everything crushed together at once, squeezing tightly, entering into one violent spasm after the other, until she was a lolling, rocking blob on his lap, a being of oiled silk that drew and drank and took in.
A great draught of air filled her lungs. She let it out. It emptied from her body the way the torrent of cunt honey flowed from her shaking vagina, hot and slippery, coming as sound instead of sweet fluid.
"Eeeeeeeaaaaahgh!" she sang, her open throat making the tone pure and clean. "I'm coming! Cominnnnng!"
He should have caressed her. He should have kissed her and loved her and made soothing, sweet sounds. That's what Burke would have done.
But Stan didn't. He wasn't Burke. He was an animal. He was like all the boys before. He was interested only in using her.
Maybe that was what Gram had been trying to tell her after all – not that fucking was bad. But that being a cunt was bad.
Stan cackled evilly, triumphantly. He scooped his hands under her ass. He lifted hard and sucked her asshole from around his prick, making her butt let a farting pop of wetness.
He didn't even hold her poised over his lap. He dumped her to the side, as if throwing her away now that he was finished with her. He did it with a sense of scorn and revulsion, as if her body was of no more value than a filled rubber – somebody else's.
The moment of supreme joy she had felt at the instant of truth about herself vanished completely and harshly. She sprawled on her side on the bed, her arm twisting painfully under her body because the hand was still constrained by its rope to the bed.
"Phony cunt!" he growled loudly.
She sobbed. She clutched the bedding between her fingers and rumpled it toward her face and sobbed with wracking hiccups.
"You vile animal…" she whimpered.
He hadn't heard. He'd left the bed. He was standing by the window. He looked through it intently while he used her torn dress to wipe his slimy prick. Then he stuffed the abusing, bruising tool back into his pants and swore.
"Dumb twat!"
Ellen squeezed her eyes shut. She waited, for more. It didn't come. He left the room hurriedly, closing the door behind him, and she realized suddenly that he hadn't even directed the comment toward her.
She lifted her head. That was when she heard the sound of a car outside. A brake drum squeaked. The engine died. The front door of the house opened and closed, and she heard Stan clumping down the wooden steps.
Ellen listened hard for a moment and heard their voices, male and female, too muffled and soft to be understood. Then she made a sudden discovery.
Her left hand was free!
Quickly, she lowered the blindfold, her heart pounding. She saw the room, bare and stark. She whimpered when she saw the complicated knots in the rope binding her other hand.
She worked at them frantically, her fingers scrabbling and uncoordinated because she was right-handed. The voices outside grew louder.
She gasped and stared at the window. She strained all she could to see through it but they were out of sight. She heard them coming up the steps.
Knowing she couldn't possibly free herself in time and knowing the chance for escape right now was nil, even if she did get free, she pulled the blindfold back up over her eyes, adjusting it quickly so that she could see through the thin spot again. Then she flung herself on her back on the bed with her arms and legs outstretched as if they were tied again, and she waited.
The door opened and closed. She heard them in the other room. Stan was loud. He was merciless. The girl had to be Velma, of course. She'd done something wrong.
In a moment, she would whimper and cower and take all his abuse. If he commanded, she would open her mouth and suck his cock. She would spread her legs and let him fuck her with his finger or his prick or a broom handle or anything he wanted to fuck her with, and she would lie there and have an orgasm.
Because Velma was a cunt!
A thing to be used, just as Ellen had let herself be used when she was a young girl.
She had been used by Stan and Cy and even Velma, but she hadn't been able to help that. It hadn't been voluntary, and there was a difference. A big difference!
That was what Gram had been trying to tell her! Not that she shouldn't fuck, but that she shouldn't be fucked!
She sucked in her breath and blinked against her dark world. Excitement coursed through her body, as if she'd just discovered the key to a fabulous treasure.
It was so simple, so incredibly plain now! God, why hadn't she seen that simple truth years and years ago!
Tish – she had to tell Tish the simple truth. She had to make her daughter understand before it was too late for her, too. God, she had to get out of here and tell Tish!
Ellen's mind raced. Was Tish already a cunt? A stupid, for-fucking-only cunt? Had she even been cherried yet?
Ellen thought back and knew that had to be a stupid question. There'd been those two crummy-looking kids Burke had run off. There'd been others before them, and probably others after them that Tish hadn't let them know about, just the way Ellen hadn't let Gram know about any but the first two or three.
No, it was very likely that Tish had been fucked. Been fucked – used, like a dumb little twat.
There was another side to it Ellen had just learned. You could be used without wanting to be – by force. Even by forces more subtle than ropes and blindfolds and pain. It depended on the man.
Thinking back on her own girlhood, Ellen could see that she'd been fucked by boys who were prone to be users, fuckers of cunts. Animals, like Stan. Like the boys Tish had had hanging around.
It came to her with great, sudden clarity that Burke was not such a man. He had never tried to use her, and yet she had reacted to him as if he were the same as the others.
She had held herself back from him and not given to him for fear that he would be another animal. But Burke had been as different from them as… as Jay from Stan, or Jay from Cy. Jay could have used her too, but he hadn't.
"Oh, God, Burke," she moaned softly. "I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry! I'll make it up to you, Burke, I swear I will!"
She pulled at her remaining rope ineffectually and then rolled over to work at the knot again. She became aware of the sounds from the other room and stopped.
"…you listen! I came out because I think I have a right to know just what the hell you're doing! Why did you kidnap her, for God's sake! Why didn't you take the jewels the way everything had already been planned?"
Ellen froze, her head turned, listening. That wasn't Velma!
"Hey, baby, for money," Stan said soothingly. "For lots of bread, that's why. Shit, by the time we took the beating from the fence, we wouldn't have crap left over. This way, we get it all, see? C'mon, baby, trust me for once. Shit, she walked right into it! What'd you want me to do, have her escort me into the Goddamn place? She might wonder where I got the key from, don't you think?"