TABOO TALES(erotica)

His fingers squirmed inside me and his breath was in my face. I couldn’t speak, and he grunted with anger.

“Listen, you bitch! It’s really simple. You do what I want and I won’t tell the parents about you and Benny playing hide the sausage…. now that’s not very hard to understand, is it?” He laughed again, that high-pitched giggle. “Or would you prefer that I just fuck you anyway. Do you like it rough – how about up the ass?”

I shook my head, struggling to speak, my voice a whisper choked with sobs. “No, no. I’ll do what you want, William. Give me the book.”

He twisted his fingers inside me, grinding them down so that the pain intensified. “Not in a million years, Chelsea. You be nice and I’ll be nice, but I keep the book. Now, you lie still while I have a little fun, do you hear?” he pulled his fingers out of me and unzipped himself, dropping his pants and thrusting his genitals forward. “Do you remember this?” he laughed. “Your old friend, Chelsea. It’s been in some interesting places since you last had it, and I’ll do some interesting things to you with it.”

I stared up at him. His cock was distended, bobbing to and fro in front of me. The foreskin was fully back and his helmet was shiny, the ridge above its rim purple and red. I could see thick blue veins along the shaft, like dead earthworms wriggling over the bulging grey skin, and it was bent like an old scimitar. His scrotum was huge, a wrinkled sack swinging between his legs, covered with coarse black hair.

He put his hand on his cock and began to stroke it, slowly at first and then with gathering speed until it was moving rapidly along the shaft, and his foreskin made little sucking noises as it was driven back and forth over the glans. His eyes were on my face, still and empty, and he spoke to me, his voice becoming disjointed as the pleasure consumed him.

“I had you picked as a whore all the time, Chelsea, when you were… waving your little tush at me…. ah! Nice pussy, though… nice… and… tight. This one is for me and then – ugh – I’ll wet the baby’s head…. drown the little bastard! Ugh! Fuck, that’s good! Look at it, you bitch! Fucking open your mouth when I come! Jesus, that’s good…” his fist was flying up and down the shaft, and as I watched the knob swelled even more. “Fuck, it’s close! Ugh, Hot juice for you, bitch. Here it comes…. ugh… here it comes… aaragh -”

With a gutteral cry of pleasure he spurted, aiming his rod at my face, reaching forward with his other hand to seize my head so that I could not wriggle free. A thick jet of his sperm leapt from the angry eye of his cock and splattered over my face, pooling in my left eye and clustering in my hair. He grunted again, gathering himself for another spurt, hissing at me through his clenched teeth. “Open your mouth!”

I opened my mouth and a second jet splattered over me, then a third and fourth, thick and slimy – splattering over my lips and drooling into my throat. His head was back, the cords in his neck tensed, protruding like girders, and then, as the height of his ecstasy consumed him, he closed his eyes. It was the moment I had been waiting for.

I drew my legs back sharply, bending my knees and rolling my hips up towards the bedboard, twisting so that I was aligned with him, and then I jack-knifed, driving my legs forward with all my strength. My shoes smashed into him, crushing his genitals like a dry pretzel, driving him backwards. He tripped over his pants and fell heavily, and the house shook with the impact. I wriggled off the bed, my arms still bound, and in two steps I was beside him. He was curled in a fetal position, his hands grasping his genitals and a high pitched squeal burst from his lips like a piece of stone drawn over a slate.

I should have left it then, but a black rage seized me. I drew my foot back and I kicked him, again and again, feeling the solid thumps as I connected with his body and he shrieked, trying to protect himself, still clutching his ruined genitals. I was shouting, screaming at him, and he lay writhing beneath me as I lashed out. I was driven by all the rage and humiliation that had bottled up over the years, and for the fear and pain he had just subjected me to. My anger and disgust coalesced into a burning, white hot anger, a craving to utterly destroy the crawling, broken animal at my feet.

And so I kicked him until the blood flew from his face in scarlet drops like crimson confetti, and he groaned and writhed beneath me. I lifted my leg to stomp on his head, but a strong pair of hands seized me, pulling me away and Ben was there, holding me, and I was safe.

*****All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

The pilot banked the little aircraft over the beach and we saw where we would be staying. The huts were set under the canopy of trees behind the beach, their new thatch gleaming in the sun and the lagoon stretched out in front of them, blue and green and turquoise, with the white fringe of the reef marking the hue of the deep water beyond.

He set down gently on the edge of the dirt strip and we bounced along the runway until we came to a standstill a dozen yards from the little passenger apron. He retarded the mixture lever and the engine coughed to a stop, only the ticking of cooling metal and the shrill whistle of the cicadas disturbing the sudden tranquility. The pilot climbed down and helped us to the ground, his hand on my waist to guide me.

“The caretaker will be here in a moment,” he said. “She’ll take you through the routine, but it’s pretty simple – you’re on your own unless you call me up – otherwise I’ll be here to collect you a week on Saturday.” He regarded me with open admiration, his hand still resting on me. “Is there anything more I can do for you guys?”

“No thanks, mate.” I got the impression Ben didn’t like him.

“Oh – alright. I’ll be off then. Have fun.”

Louise showed us around, smiling at our enthusiasm, her teeth white against her dark chocolate-coloured skin. She showed us the hut and went through the emergency procedure and then withdrew, promising to come back once a day to check that all was well. Then, suddenly, we were alone, the first time for weeks.

Ben was standing next to me, looking down at my face, and he lifted his hand and touched me gently. “Well, here we are then.” He smiled. “Are you happy we came?”

I nodded. His eyes were soft, still concerned, even though it had been a couple of weeks since Mum had lost her struggle to live. I suddenly felt a great well of tenderness towards him, and I pulled him to me and hugged him, my arms around his chest, feeling the hot burn of tears in my eyes.

He stroked my hair and murmured softly. “It’s alright, Chelsea, it’s OK.” He lifted my head and I felt his fingers lightly on my skin, brushing away the tears, smiling down at me. I wondered how he could be so cheerful. The weight of what had happened since we were last together in Maryville was still such a burden, a tangle of sadness and tragedy, pain and loss. It was if my mind was adrift in a black jungle of thorns and I longed to be free from their spiky clutch.

“Do you feel up to a walk?” he asked. “We could check out our island home for the next two weeks.”

I nodded. “Give me a moment and I’ll change.”

We strolled down the beach and plunged into the sea, and afterward we walked along the crescent of golden sand, holding hands and talking, the salt water drying on our skin.

“Do you think Dad will be alright?” Ben asked. He’d been worried about leaving him.

“He’ll be fine, Ben. Mary will look after him.” Mary was the nurse we had found who would pop into his flat every day to ensure that he was well. “He’s tough, you know, he’ll get over it.” We walked on for a while. “The best thing we did for him was to sell the house.”

He nodded. “I’m not sure about location of his new place, though.”

I was surprised. “What do you mean? It’s perfect.”

He laughed. “It’s next to that retirement village. I saw them – the old biddies looking over the fence, lust in their eyes. There was one in particular, a right old floozy with blue rinse and furry slippers – I bet she’ll be over the fence in no time.”

“At least he’ll die happy.”

We walked to the far end of the beach and sat on the rocks on the headland, looking back over the lagoon. I could see our hut, almost hidden amongst the trees. Ben put his arm around me. “You OK?”

“It’s lovely isn’t it? Coming here was one of your better ideas.” I looked across the shining water to the far shore. “I think this is just what we needed – not just me, I mean both of us. The last few months were pretty full-on.” I thought back, remembering the day when William had almost raped me. “I wonder where William is – no where like this, I bet.”

“Who cares?”

“I do, Ben…. what was it they say: ‘There is no revenge so complete as forgiveness?’ We came out of that so much better than him because we did forgive.” I glanced at him, gathering my thoughts. “Besides, he condemns himself – there’s no joy in his life, you know. He’ll be bitter and angry for the rest of his life, because that’s how he is, and he’ll die a lonely old man. Isn’t that punishment enough?”

“He’s lucky he’s not in goal.”

“Well, if he doesn’t change he probably will be one day, but letting him go was one of the better things that we did. It saved a lot of explaining in the courts and it certainly saved Mum and Dad from further anguish. He was a bully, Ben, and bullies always scuttle away when they lose their power. Without the diary he’s no threat to us.”

Ben nodded. “Can I ask you something, Chelsea?”

“Shoot.”

“He kept ranting about you being pregnant, and how it was a mortal sin…. as if he would know!” He looked at me shyly. “Were you? Pregnant, I mean.” He hurried on. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

I’d never spoken to him about it, and I felt the pain lance through me again. “Yes I was, Ben – five weeks. I miscarried that night.” I remembered how the cramps had started, how I had ridden the waves of pain alone in my room, and then the emptiness and despair of loss. I shivered. “They say that history repeats itself, and it sure did. My first baby was his, and the second one was yours, and I lost them both – an eye for an eye.”

He reached over and held my hand. “There’ll be others, Chelsea.”

“Maybe.” I gazed out over the lagoon and suddenly I was sick of the whole thing. I grasped his arm. ” “You know, we could spend the whole two weeks looking back and feeling sorry for ourselves, but I don’t want to do that. The past is past and it’s time to let it go. Let’s not talk about it any more, Ben.” I stood up and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go and make love – it’s been too long.”

It was cool and inviting inside the hut and we stripped off, standing in the centre of the room to look at each other. His body was pale, the skin almost a translucent marble from all the hours spent in the hospital, and it was dusted with salt where the sea had dried on his skin. He was massively excited, his cock rearing up towards me thick and angry, and he had an expression of desperate longing on his face.