The Chains of Obsession, page 10
Oliver had released her hand and had now gone under her and had a bruising grip at both her buttocks. In reflex both her hands gripped his penis and held him as though she was holding back an African spear. ‘No Oliver! No, no!' She couldn't do it! She couldn't take it! Not like this. The only thing Oliver wanted right now was Jane! Jane's lovely, ever hungry, juiced up cunt! Or Brenda's! Or Pauline's! Or Sally's! Or Rosie's! Oh God, Rosie!' He fell down to the side of Sylvia, his head buried into the pillow.
For a brief moment Sylvia felt in shock, then she recovered and instantly turned and embraced him. She started to cry, softly. 'I'm sorry, Oliver! I'm sorry!' She lay there holding him, trying to show her affection. 'It's my fault!' Oliver turned to her and hugged her. 'No it's not, sweetheart! It's not you at all!' He kissed her forehead and her cheeks, tasting the salt where they had become wet. 'It'll all work out right eventually!’ She agreed with him that it would. Everyone else does it in marriage so it was bound to be all right eventually. If he could be less intent, she thought, and perhaps let her do it, sort of let him in gradually, a little bit at a time. Oliver agreed with that. They could try it that way sometime.
Sylvia was pleased that he was so understanding. 'You're not angry with me are you Oliver? I mean, I haven't made you not want to make love to me, have I?' She didn't want him to love her any less because she hadn't been able to give herself to him when he really wanted her. He told her that sex wasn't that vital in marriage. Some times people weren't altogether compatible. But it didn't stop them being in love with each other. Some couples made compromises in their sexuality. Everything was all right between him and her and he really loved her, as he would prove in other ways. She would see.
Sylvia was so pleased with the things he said. He was the kind of husband she wanted. She squeezed his hand and knew that she really did want to give him all her love. And they'd never been in a bed together before and held each other so comfortingly as this. 'You can suck me Oliver and I won't stop you looking at me! I promise!' Oliver didn't say anything, neither did he move, and all was silent. When he realised she had quietly begun to cry again, he turned over to her and kissed her again, gently tipping her on to her back. Without words, he removed the bed sheet and rolled her nightie to her waist. All the time handling her very delicately. The way he knew that it had to be. Sylvia turned her head sideways on the pillow when Oliver positioned himself further down the bed and got between her legs. As he opened them she closed her eyes. She had always been in shadow before. And he'd never been able to spread her so wide. When he raised her legs as they'd been when they'd tried to have intercourse, and she knew that his eyes could see so much, it was the most difficult thing in the world to control the feeling of shame she felt about herself, and only because she knew it would do untold damage to their growing relationship, did she endure her exposure. Actually being sucked was not an issue anymore. She'd received it so regularly over three years of premarital sex, that it was the norm. It was all she really needed. And she wanted it now! Oliver looked at her lay before him, eyes closed, head turned passively on the pillow. He realised that he'd created in her a different kind of sexuality than he had in himself. But he did love her, and he'd rather give to her in the way that pleased her than risk damaging that love he knew she gave him so sincerely.
Yes, this part was new for Sylvia, enduring such unabashed exposure. But he could see that she was intent on overcoming that, in order to give him as much as she felt that he needed, too. If she was prepared to let him look at her and move her about and place her in positions that stimulated him, then he would satisfy her this way always, with all the passion he could put into it. Full intercourse could come later. And of course it would have to if she wanted babies. No, he need not pursue her for the kind of aggressive sex that he essentially needed. He had Jane for madness and fantasy. Why not give as much love to a good loving wife as he could. And the first thing was to give her sex as she enjoyed it. If they really wanted a baby though, to run along side Bert and Annie's, they'd have to sort out how, pretty quickly!
CHAPTER TWELVE
Jane spent most of the three weeks indoors at Arnold's house. As far as she knew, no one knew that she still saw her stepfather. In fact, no one would ever believe that either of them would want to see each other again after what had happened. But Arnold had accepted the punishment she had brought on him. He understood that she had no choice but to tell it that way. After all, he was the adult. Whether she was the main instigator of sex between them or not, was of no consequence in the eyes of everyday people and the law. He was the one that should have known it was wrong. What did a little girl of twelve know - sixteen years ago? However, at fifteen someone persuaded her that she knew a lot, and she had put him in jail for two years. Arnold was fifty-eight now. He didn't go looking for trouble. From time to time, the police had interviewed him when there'd been some child molester being sort. But he'd never touched a child either before or after Jane. This last four years he'd been seeing Mary, a 38 year old tax consultant and unmarried mother, who looked after a son and ageing mother. He'd been lucky to meet her. She liked sex. In fact she was practical enough to say that as long as she could get it when she wanted it, she was happy with her life the way it was.
Jane was something else. Arnold had only been out of prison six months when she came to him. She was just short of eighteen and said that now she knew her own mind. He really hadn't wanted to get involved with her again, but she was so hooked into the fantasies they had indulged in when she was a child, he couldn't resist but enter them with her all over again when she showed him that she still needed them in exactly the same way. At least he was safe. She was no longer a child.
They had continued to meet as and when Jane felt the need. He was really no more than an instrument to her gratification. She had no need of affection or any show of emotion. She only wanted to be abused. She would insult him often. Made it plain that his very brutish appearance, his ugliness even, with his great overweight wrestler's type body, the masses of hair that gave her the shivers when in contact with her skin, was the very essence of him that she needed when she succumbed to her neurotic compulsions. But it all had to be hidden. This craving for abuse was her secret shame, and she indulged it only at her whim.
All the time she had been married to George, she still came to see Arnold. He would not see her for months, then suddenly she'd appear. He always gave her money when she left, though she never asked for any. Arnold wasn't short of cash. He wasn't silly either, because he knew giving her money in generous quantity, consolidated her corruption. This way she came to him, even though she didn't perhaps want to. He never knew the difference because whenever he played 'gorilla' with her it was always fantastic. Giving her the car was the best investment he ever made. However, less than a week to go and she'd not invited him into her bed. He knew better than to invite himself. She had been a little unfair though in stopping him from going to see Mary. That had made him think she had it in mind. Well, perhaps she did. Maybe she still intended to. Either way it was not for him to mention it or it would kill any chances stone dead. She always had to be in control, even though her actions during any of her fantasies seemed to convey the contrary. He never really knew what she wanted till she said so.
At the end of the three weeks Jane packed her suitcase and said she had to go. This was the very first time she'd been to his house and they hadn't had sex. Either she did have some young girl in tow, or she'd got pretty struck on this new chap she had spoken about. He didn't give her any money. And she didn't show whether she'd expected any. Arnold knew that he still had to keep that unspoken contract going. There was always a chance he could have her if she got destitute.
Jane had done a lot of thinking while Oliver was with Sylvia in Jersey. She'd almost driven herself crazy thinking of their enjoying sex together. She was jealous, envious, angry. Such a spiral of emotions affected her. At the beginning she wanted to drown her sorrow in masochistic surrender to sexual abuse, and had gone to see Arnold for that express purpose. But somehow Oliver had got into her mind on a level no one had done previously. Apart from his being young, intelligent, ambitious, bold, malleable, sexually driven like herself, 'big in the dick,' adventurous, all those attributes and more, she now thought she might be in love with him. She had never been in love before, except with the idea of a very special female. So special in fact that she could only be a fantasy. No, suddenly something had happened to her regarding Oliver. It might well have been finding out about Sylvia that had triggered it. He was either in her mind as an infatuation, or she loved him. Either way she had to be in possession of him.
What to do about Sylvia was a problem. She would really prefer her out of the picture. Sylvia had rejected her once. That was one thing she couldn't tolerate. She had continued going to the cafe where Sylvia was doing her part-time waitressing, pretending to be friends, but she had been planning to get revenge. It was only that she had met and got distracted by Oliver that she had let the matter drop. But now suddenly, here Sylvia was, like Sleeping Beauty, right in the middle of her life. Jane had been so affected by seeing Sylvia as Oliver's bride that she had given little thought to the enormity of what they'd done to Rosie. It had been almost a month, and she had heard nothing. She had been so preoccupied in her thinking, it was as if Rosie had never existed. It could just as easily have been Sylvia in Rosie's place, if she had succeeded in seducing her when she had tried six or seven years ago.
The phone rang. Jane picked it up. 'It's me, Olly! We got back yesterday!' Jane knew today would have been his first opportunity to phone. She was pleased that he was still predictable. 'Hello, lover! Hope you had a nice three weeks. I expect you're all shagged out!' Her voice was welcoming yet petulant. As though she begrudged him sex outside of her approval.
Oliver laughed. 'Listen, first things first. Have you heard anything about you know what?' His voice showed anxiety. Jane said she hadn't been out. As far as she knew there was nothing to know. Oliver told her he'd had her on his mind a lot. Couldn't wait to have sex with her again. What he needed was to go really wild. Tie her up. Play 'gorilla' if she wanted. Jane said: 'You do know I've been breaking my heart since I saw you with Sylvia, don't you? It's obvious now why you didn't want me to come to the church!' Oliver spoke softly. 'I'm sorry, Jane.'
'You have really upset me! Would it bother you to know that it's hurt me more than anything in my life?'
'I never planned it that way, Jane! You got involved with Winston, remember? I never thought I'd see you again. When you phoned me out of the blue I was already committed. I knew it would bother you, seeing her. I'd gone too far with her to back out!' There was a long silence from Jane, then: 'Do you still want me as much as you did?'
'God, Jane, more! Absolutely more!' He was even more anxious. 'I mean it's not true what you think. Sylvia's not into sex like you and me! In any case, I've been thinking too much about what happened in Southend to be any good to her. There were a few deep breaths on Jane's end of the phone. 'Does that mean you'll be too gone in the head to be any good for me then?' 'Jane, I promise you I want you right now like nothing on this earth!' Jane increased his anxiety and thus his desire by another of her calculated silences. Then she said: 'Come right away then!' And she put the phone down.
Within the hour Oliver arrived at The Gables, via the back lane. It was 10 a.m. and quite normal for him to go there. This was his place of business. When he walked through the orchard and up through the gardens to the back of the house, he couldn't believe the sensation that overcame him when he breathed in the scent of apples. His whole body seemed to grow cold. Dead was dead. But he hurried as fast as he could, short of breaking into a run. Jane opened the door to him in her black lace underwear and they went straight into each others arms. He was as hungry for her as she was for him. She led him by the hand hurriedly to the lounge, and dropping to the carpet she tugged him down on top of her. She would show him that Sylvia had no appetite the depth of hers. 'Fuck me, darling! Hurt me like you've never hurt me before.' They moved straight into an embrace with Jane's mouth opening under his, soft and hungry. He was shocked yet thrilled by her next uninhibited action. Hardly was he into the kiss when he felt both her hands go to his trouser fly. She went straight and rough into his under pants, dragging out his penis and grabbing it full into her hands, instantly flicking him hard up and down, three, four times. 'I want him, I've missed him. Make it hurt me Oliver! Be my wicked monster, Oliver. Like the night in the grave yard!' She was referring to the time they first got together and they had gone behind the local church looking for some place to lay down.
She placed it between her legs and gripped it with her thighs, holding it there while she put her arms around his neck and went into his mouth again with her tongue. She came away from there and went to his ear, breathing deeply, long passionate breaths, wet into his ear, and talking, a breathless whispering, commanding him, telling him things to rouse his fury. She was talking absolute rubbish but he delighted in her words because they made him do things. He thought of Annie. He thought of Bert, with Annie! He thought of that night on the flat gravestone among all the other old and broken headstones. His first time up into a female hole.
'I'm an innocent little girl and you want me don't you?' He grunted in response. 'I've wandered into your clutches. You're a ferocious gorilla monster and you've taken me away. I can't stop you and you're going to have me! You're going to fuck me and I can't stop you. I'm helpless in your big arms. Take me, take me, I'm powerless to stop you. You can do anything you want with me because you're a nasty gorilla man . . . I'm totally at your mercy!'
Oliver never understood how she could fit him into that fantasy. Her imaging was a product of some other experience. But it was working! It brought out everything that was already bursting within him. He wanted her this way. He could feed this fantasy. Oliver's ferocity began to grow. He tore at her knickers, dragging them from her. Then he spread her legs on the soft piled carpet, opening her naked wide, reaching hungrily for her, lifting her at the buttocks. Handling her roughly. Deliberately bruising her cheeks with the grip of his fingers. She wanted roughness and urged him for more. She wanted an insatiable desire from him. Her fantasy to be forcefully ravaged, raped by a black hairy gorilla, had endured ever since she saw the old black and white movie King Kong, where Fay Ray, star of the silent screen, had been carried away into the jungle. She wanted a huge cock to hurt her. To force her wide. Penetrate her so that she could writhe in ecstasy against it, yet not be able to escape. She urged Oliver unashamedly to animalism and abuse, just as she had with Arnold in the secret of her bed.
Oliver found himself saying yes to his being her gorilla monster. Her nasty hairy monster man with no mercy for naughty Jane. He looked down as she raised her legs up and back, and saw himself disappearing into her lovely dark glistening bush. Swallowed up by a beautiful juicy warm hole. 'Fuck her Oliver! Hurt her! Make her want it! He began pumping. The stretching width of him was just what she wanted. The pain exquisite. Each violent lunge brought a gasp from her, and she knew she was his as indeed he was hers. She was totally yielding now. Accepting. Loose. Limp. Savouring every moment. He really could do with her as he willed. As Oliver felt her juices squelching he got excited and began to smack her buttocks with his pelvis as hard as he could drive. He was giving her what she wanted and it delighted him. He had become her gorilla fantasy and was fulfilling her as he was fulfilling himself. And now, suddenly, his climax. The hot, soft depth of her, enticed him to thrust more deeply with each unstoppable squirt. He made one final lunge, as though compelled to reach and open entry into her womb, and heard what seemed to be her last breath.
Exhausted. Expended. A satisfied, satiated gorilla, collapsed and rolled beside her, and lay there in silence, too defeated to do otherwise. He could smell the carpet, and the odour of sex. He thought of Annie. He thought of the passion he'd just received and given. Then he thought of Jane. He turned on his side and looked into her face. He put his arms around her waist, and drew her body up close to him. He loved that limpness she had permitted to invade her body, giving him power. He kissed the soft red mouth and then drew back to look into her eyes properly, which he could hardly see in the shadow cast by the settee set in front of the bay window. He chuckled. At the sound of his chuckle Jane opened her eyes and chuckled with him. 'You gorgeous, gorgeous monster, you!'
She kissed him and cuddled him, taking his limp penis in her hands. 'Oh I'm going to want you over and over!' She moved down his body and quickly sucked him back to life. Oliver was amazed at her appetite. She was everything he could want. Rolling him over onto his back, Jane opened her legs across him and slid him all the way back into her. That same juicy, hot female hole had swallowed him up again, and this time he was not in any position to respond to the urge to thrust that came back into him. But there was no need. She began to rise and fall upon him. She reached and placed his hands about her waist and he found by instinct that he'd begun to help her and help himself. Lifting and dropping.
