Half an hour later, DesirЋe rolled her damp softness off Sid's sweating mass and lay her cheek on his outstretched arm.
Softly and in a small voice, she said, "I hope that never happens again."
"Dumb ass, Harry Wickes," Sid grumbled. "Ruined the best moment of my life, just because he can't take orders the first time." He curled his arm around her and held one of her big tits gently in his hand. "DesirЋe, you've been a real good girl. I won't forget it. Mark will have my total support."
She closed her eyes at the mention of her beloved, though hurting worse for she felt more the whore. "Thank you," she said, almost inaudibly.
An hour later they had showered and dressed, and she was looking forward to being away from Buchanan as he led her along a hall of bedrooms upstairs. He stopped before one door. She looked up.
"Is this…?" she started, wondering if this was where Mark was.
"Be a good girl, Dez," Buchanan said, and opened the door, taking her into a room where Khalid al-Mazkum sat on the bed, grinning.
"I've had a real good day here, Dez," Mark said, sitting down on the bed and kicking off his shoes. He looked at his dear young wife. She looked positively exhausted, even though it was just early in the evening, eight o'clock. Her skin was still glowing with the effects of the long, hot shower she had taken – her third of the day – before climbing into bed, and her hair was still damp from the shampooing. "You must have had a hard day just sitting around with the women. Anyway, we made some good progress on the campaign and funding. For all my misgivings, I think I'm in good company here. Sid's already given me a big campaign fund. Baby, I'm on my way." He reached out, touched her on the cheek, and found her sound asleep. Why she should be so tired, he did not know. He was the one who had to spend six hours with two of the world's most obnoxious people. Perhaps it had been the long drive up yesterday, but whatever it was that had sapped her strength, she looked like she was resting up from it.
Too bad. He had wanted to talk to her intimately, to tell her he wanted to be more loving to her, and that he would forget what had happened, that it didn't matter, wasn't her fault. They were going to be loving newlyweds again, just as they were meant to be. If the image of Lobo mounting DesirЋe's kneeling body ever occurred to him again – But no, he wasn't even going to think about it. Life was going to be good for them after this, very exciting, very fulfilling.
CHAPTER NINE
Back in Pickford's Meadows, life seemed perfectly normal over the weekend after their return on Saturday. The town was all abuzz with the news of Clete's latest hunting party, the wounding of one of the dogs, and how Jim Devereaux had advanced Clete several thousand dollars expense money.
DesirЋe had called Robyn and made an excuse for leaving her and Tanya so suddenly a few days before. Of course she withheld the story of her abduction and seduction by not one but ultimately three men. It was something she couldn't afford to tell anyone now, after telling Helen Buchanan, a mistake that led to her vile seduction in that woman's husband's study. No, those incredibly sordid stories could not be told to anyone, for the truth was mind-boggling. DesirЋe, by one means or other had had sexual intercourse with six different men in the matter of only two days, and she felt very unworthy of even being touched by her own wonderful husband.
She had found Robyn strangely subdued, though the grief she had vented at their last meeting seemed to have given way to a more mature attitude. Perhaps she had found a way of dealing with her uncle's demands, or perhaps she was carrying on with the affair and had changed her outlook toward the situation. Still, she was staying at the Devereaux home, though she admitted to having been at her parents', the Mitchells' home every night since DesirЋe's leaving suddenly for the Capital.
Rodney, on the strength of the pictures he had taken, had received a modest advance for a book, to be entitled The Devils of Pickford's Meadows, and a hefty fee for a magazine article detailing what had happened so far.
DesirЋe didn't know why, but the mere mention of Lobo, the dogpack leader, gave her the chills. She still had nightmares of being mounted and raped, in the way some other women in the neighborhood were claimed to have been, with two recurring scenarios: one, taken to bed by three men and then being invaded by the dog, and the other in a situation when she was forced to submit herself to save Mark from being killed by the dog. It was all the more real to her, since last night she had dreamed the first dream again, and two of the men present before the dog's arrival were those who had taken advantage of her at the Pace mansion.
Had it been rape? She had responded, in a natural way, but yes, the one with the gun had coerced her, frightened her into cooperating. What about after that, when the nice one had held her, and pleasured her with his thing inside her, and whispered softly to her? By then, she had no ill feelings toward him, and again had responded when the crazy one had entered her from behind. Oh, it was all so confusing. It just seemed that since Mark had started being cold toward her, the mere touch of a man, any man, was enough to arouse her. However, though she had been aroused several times, it had been other undue influences that had brought her to the ultimate physical acts that she now so regretted. Could Mark ever forgive her? But, no, he must never find out. It would spoil his feelings for her forever, to know what a slut she had been.
And with Clete. With Clete! A black man that she detested. Right now, the thought of having a black man's penis inside her made her sick. So why had she responded like a broody whore?
Rodney had spoken to her and he seemed very happy with his recent nibble of success. At least they had the money to pay their bills back home. And it seemed that they had been seeing quite a bit of Robyn Young lately, which made DesirЋe happy for she hated to see her friend lonely while she had been away so much with Mark.
After returning to town, Sunday had been quiet and she had done her usual solos with the choir at church, the choir she herself had trained. She felt like such a hypocrite even showing her face in church and letting people think, because of her presence there, that she was a good and pious person when she was actually no better, in her own eyes, than the lowest whore, and probably a bit worse.
Mark had made love to her Sunday night, finally, for the first time in a long time. Her pussy had still been a trifle sore from the drubbing it had taken by all those uninvited cocks in the previous few days, but it had felt very good, and very physically satisfying, though her pangs of conscience had stopped her short of total and complete emotional fulfillment.
Oh, would she ever feel clean again? Would she ever be the sweet and innocent girl she had been the week before, before going to meet Clete at the station and seeing that she had already committed adultery with him at a time she hadn't remembered, seduced back there in the mists of her unremembered past by Priscilla Devereaux and drugs.
Yes, that had been it. Priscilla, her enemy, had tried to corrupt and destroy her. Obviously, the motive had been jealousy, and her desire for Mark, whom she had lost before his meeting DesirЋe. Priscilla Devereaux, spoiled, selfish, and evil, had caused much of the hurt that DesirЋe was experiencing. How had she ever trusted that malicious young woman for a moment, enough to share an evening and a bottle of wine with her while she arranged a situation in which Clete could penetrate her tender body with his huge, black penis and be photographed in the act? It had been the end of her innocence and the beginning of her downfall, though she had never desired anything wrong, never sneaked away intending to do anything behind Mark's back.