I have been criticized for inventing evil female characters, then glossing over their pain when their antics are discovered. Below is my response. It is all pain. If that isn't your thing, feel free to hit the wee X in the top right hand corner
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No pickaxe handles were damaged in the writing of this story. And on the seventh day, the lord invented Hickory.
After I wrote it, it was pulled apart and destruct tested by CreativityTakesCourage, for which I am grateful. My life began when she entered it.
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DAY 1
Lyn awoke, uncomfortable and confused. She battled to open her eyelids for what seemed like an age, but in reality, was probably only a few seconds. Her addled mind found the familiar sight of her bedroom ceiling comforting. An image of the nightmare that had roused her was still in the forefront of her mind. She'd felt she was suffocating, which had always been a particular fear of hers. Once she managed to not only open both eyes but keep them open for more than a second, she noticed the trigger for her nightmare. John was lying asleep on top of her. His left breast to hers, meant she wasn't bearing the full brunt of his weight. His hips between her still wide stretched legs, meant it was enough to restrict her breathing. Automatically, she shoved him sideways. He rolled onto his back and immediately began snoring. She tried to recall what had roused her from deep slumber. The nightmare alone wasn't it. Still not fully conscious, her mind wandered back.
On the pretence of putting the final touches to the contract they'd worked on together for months, John and Lyn had left the office before lunch and come to her place for a nooner. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to share a bottle of wine before the important signing this evening, but she'd bought it specially, and it complemented the food she'd bought perfectly. Why not celebrate in style? This contract was the biggest in the history of their company. The fact she'd been chosen to complete it, meant she was on a fast track career as a company favourite. She also wanted to celebrate a change in her personal dynamics. A change she looked forwards to immensely.
That dragged her mind back to the man slumbering beside her. She'd fallen into bed with John about six weeks before. Sharing the stress and long hours with her fellow lawyer and colleague, formed a bond that had almost inevitably resulted in the physical affair they were currently engaged in. Having crossed the line once, crossing it the dozen or so times since hadn't been a biggie for her. The unusual hours she was keeping, plus the travel, made it so easy.
Still a little confused, Lyn tried to recall details of how she'd ended up like this. Her lips curled into a smile as details returned to her.
With six hours to kill and much to celebrate, John and herself parked in her carport and made out like teenagers. With the heat rising, they dragged each other through the internal door to Lyn's lounge, ripping each other's clothes off as they went. Once they were both naked, Lyn forced John onto his back on the huge sheepskin in front of the fireplace. Going to the fridge, she returned with food, wine and glasses. She straddled him but didn't allow entry; just rubbed her flowing vagina languidly up and down the cock pressed between herself and his belly. Every time he made to sit up and push her onto her back, she pressed him down. Lovingly, she fed him titbits from her organised picnic. She cracked the bottle of red and poured two glasses. Not being able to lift the glass to his lips from his helpless position, Lyn took a long draft from John's glass, held it in her mouth then transferred it to John's via a deep kiss. Ah, this is the life, Lyn recalled thinking. Nice food, nice wine and the anticipation of great sex to come. How could it be better?
In the here and now, Lyn wondered how much wine she'd drunk. With effort, she thought back. Alternating mouthfuls for her, then ones for John, they'd damned near finished the bottle. That probably accounted for the metallic taste, coating the inside of her dry mouth. With hunger for food satisfied, Lyn recalled retaining the last swallow of her second glass in her mouth. Never once breaking eye contact with John, she slid off him, knelt at his side and luxuriously slid his rampant monster in her mouth. She made a mental note to check the white sheepskin for red stains when she went downstairs. A little had dribbled out during her manoeuvres.
She recalled John closing his eyes, groaning loudly, as she began slowly moving her lips up and down. She wrapped her good hand around his base and followed her mouth up and down with it, pressing her thumb on the pipe underneath, in just the way experience told her John loved. Her plan, to get John half-way there, then mount him, was kiboshed when her lover grabbed the back of her head and held it firmly in place. She decided to give him the ultimate gift, his groans and gasps letting her know exactly what he wanted. His thrusts quickened and he didn't last long after that. With a mighty bellow, John unloaded into her wine filled mouth. She picked the exact moment her continued languid movement turned from sensuous to uncomfortable for him, knelt up straight and when his eyes re-opened, tilted her head back and swallowed. John looked at her adoringly.
Knowing she had only a few moments of his helplessness left, Lyn reached over and took a mouthful of John's glass. Leaning over, she kissed it into his mouth, whispering for him not to swallow it. Maybe John knew what she had in mind; maybe he didn't. Her heat made her selfishly not give a damn. Throwing one knee over each of his shoulders, Lyn lowered her sex onto his face and began furiously rubbing herself on his lips and nose. She heard him noisily breathing through the latter as he couldn't breathe through his wine filled mouth. Lyn arched her back and began massaging her own ample breasts. Talk about heaven. She didn't last much longer than John, before grinding into his face especially hard as a tremendous climax ripped through her. She screamed her pleasure at the ceiling. She figured John must have swallowed the wine when his tongue appeared and she luxuriated in the come down.
Things became a little blurry after that. Memories of John pushing her off him, reaching down to sling her over his shoulder and the heavenly trip up the stairs. She distinctly remembered him throwing her on the bed, before impaling her with his resurgent cock. Then... what?
Lyn, still groggy, was confused. Not only by the lack of memory, but by the failure of the just recalled memories to excite her more than they were. A few seconds' concentration solved that last mystery. Her bladder was giving out urgent signals. Very urgent. With a supreme effort of will, she cast her grogginess aside, rolled off the bed and staggered to the bathroom. She sat and relieved herself. The sheer length of time it took gave her time to notice outside inputs more. Weak light was spilling through the frosted glass of the bathroom window. The dawn chorus of twittering birds automatically triggering happy memories from a comfortable and contented life.
SHIT! Dawn chorus? Not even pausing to wipe herself, Lyn launched into the bedroom and looked desperately at the bedside clock. 7:46 shone malevolently back at her. Her subconsciousness desperately tried to lie to her and make her believe it was still light at 7.46p.m. at that time of year. It failed. The last shreds of lethargy and delusion were swept away by a terrible realisation. It was almost seventeen hours after she and John were supposed to sign the most monumental deal in their company's history and, somehow, they'd both slept right through it. A chill paralysed Lyn for seconds as she felt the bottom fall out of her perfect world. Her reflex was to get to work ASAP and salvage what she could. Taking the last three steps to the bed, Lyn shook John's shoulders violently until his eyes drifted open groggily.
"Get up, you stupid prick. We slept through the night. It's almost eight and our jobs are toast."
Lyn impatiently watched as what had taken her minutes was accomplished by John in seconds. He went from looking dazed to horrified. He jumped out of bed, staggered, then headed off downstairs to get his clothes. Lyn followed; almost pushing him down the steps in her haste. She instinctively knew that any further berating of him would slow him down, so she settled for giving him dirty looks. Even forgoing the time needed to put on her bra and just throwing on her discarded blouse and panties, John was fully dressed ahead of her. She had just picked up her pants and he was sitting on the couch putting his shoes on when something made her look towards the front door. Confused, she noticed it was partially open with only the safety chain holding it back. Vague recollections of the sound of it being opened and rattling against said chain itched against her consciousness as being the cause of her arousal from slumber some few minutes earlier.
She was still looking at the cracked door when a shadow moved against it. Something long whistled through the crack and hit the chain. The screws flew from the mounting bracket, the latch swung through an arc and smashed the glass pane above, before the door crashed fully open.
The sight that met Lyn and John could only be described as anger incarnate. Only a little over five feet tall, but almost as wide, the woman of obviously Mediterranean origin stood there with heaving breast. The axe dangled from one meaty arm. Her eyes blazed as she glared around the darkened room, before settling on the seated man and half naked woman. Lyn heard, "Oh shit, Maria," gasped behind herself.
"You fucking little shit! They were right. You've being doing the dirty on me while I've been out of town nursing mum."
If the irate , beweaponed she-devil uttered anything coherent after that, it was lost on Lyn. Seeing the axe raised and the first step towards them, she made for the stairs, only slightly hampered by the fact she had one leg in and one out of her pants. Half-way up, she was pushed the rest of the way by John taking the steps three at a time. They raced together to the only refuge available; the master bedroom.
Through the locked door and their own panicked gasping, they heard solid footsteps clumping up the stairs. A moment's silence was followed by the crash of an axe thudding into the door. The flimsy barrier moved enough that it was obviously not going to be a permanent defence. Lyn retreated to the door of the balcony and threw it open. Internal debate on whether she was desperate enough to make the three-metre drop was cut short as the tip of the axe finally made it through the wooden door. The sight of John accelerating towards her pushed the decision. She instinctively knew she didn't want to be the only one left alone in a room with... that. Turning around, she grabbed the rail, forced her body over it and lowered herself to her full stretch. Letting go, she dropped the rest of the way, landing heavily on her feet before falling on her arse, winded. John, following the same logic as Lyn, vaulted straight over the balcony rail. Landing awkwardly, his ankle rolled under him and he gave an involuntary yelp of pain. Lyn, her heart set on escape, took off straight away. Instinctively, she made for the carport. Entering, she had her car door open before she noticed the strange car in the driveway blocking hers in. She grabbed her handbag from the front seat and had just made it to the entrance when John painfully hobbled over.
"Where's my fucking car?"
"We don't have time for shit like that."
Lyn sped to the strange car, glancing around to check for signs of pursuit. Her eyes were drawn to the four flat tyres on her car. Confused, she looked into the strange car. She saw one thing that was good and one not so good. The former was the keys dangling from the ignition. The latter was the manual gear shift. She'd never bothered learning that. Her options flashed through her mind until the noise of an angry behemoth coming towards her told her she had none.
"You drive, John."
"I can't, Lyn. My ankle is busted. You'll have to."
Internal debate was useless. Lyn jumped in the driver's seat and John hobbled around to the passenger side. She started the engine just fine then asked what to do next. John looked at her, terrified and confused, until realisation dawned. He told her to press the pedal on the left, then rammed it into reverse himself. Somehow the car avoided stalling as Lyn released the clutch and hit the accelerator. As they shot backwards out of the drive, a swinging axe put a large divot in the windscreen, right in front of John. Lyn backed up the street until the armed woman chasing them gave up. With the luxury of time, John coached Lyn through turning around, this included Lyn stalling twice.
Lyn thought their first priority was to get to their work as quickly as possible to salvage the contract that had been put in jeopardy by their sleep-in. She was annoyed that, after the adrenalin of the past five minutes had started to fade, all John could do was complain about his sore ankle, then slump into semi-consciousness, rousing only when Lyn forced him to answer questions.
"I take it that was your wife?"
"Uh huh."
