I screamed and screamed inside the tiny hotel room. It was as disgusting as the one he'd paid for last time at The Stadium. No doubt, he had taken me there to reinforce his lesson about being lucky that he only whipped me with a belt!
Leland had rented a spreader bar from Jason the pimp. I lay on my back, pussy open to my tormentor's attacks. He belted my vulva mercilessly! My tits were striped red too from the folded length of leather. I kept screaming. No one came to my rescue.
"You fucking, fucking CUNT!" He howled at me! "You just had to push my buttons. I treated you better than right. You even let your cuck husband take secret jibes at me!"
"My boy! You twisted him. He was so sweet!" I shrieked. My maternal instinct had arrived late for kicking the old black man out of our life that horrible day! I kept up a stream of repetition about the wreck he'd made of my son's birthday party. I was no longer helpless emotionally. My tirade kept me sane through his brutal assault.
He threw down his belt and fell on top of me. In a minute, his fat prick was stuffing my aching fuck hole. I sobbed then.
He didn't last long that time. It wasn't five minutes before his plunging cock erupted with hot cum, flooding my beaten pussy and squishing out from our joined sexes.
Leland pushed me off of the cot, the spreader bar still locked to my ankles. I fell awkwardly on my butt. He hadn't whipped it, preferring torture my more sensitive tissues. Still my sobs accelerated.
Long before my tears slowed. He was asleep. I lay shivering on what remained of a filthy, stinking carpet. I don't think I slept that night. I lay on the floor worried about my family. What would they think when I showed up the next day? Would he keep me longer? Leland may have hired the room for a full night, but could he afford multiple days there?
My body was comatose from pain, but my mind swirled with anxiety!
I didn't feel the anklets being unbuckled and the spreader bar falling when Leland picked me up and put me on the cot. I don't know what time in the night it happened. He pushed a renewed, thick erection into my sore puss and fucked me slowly. He didn't say anything, but he kissed my beaten body, from lips to belly button, spending plenty of time kissing and sucking and licking my tits.
In the dark of that awful night, my greatest shame came to pass. "Uuuhhnnggh!!" I groaned loudly.
"There it is, Baby." His voice was at peace. "You're finally doing it."
I was cumming.
Somehow the contrast of pain and gentleness had set me up for my body's ultimate betrayal to my psyche.
The extent of my orgasm isn't important. It was not very intense, nor did it last long. Although I welcomed its temporary relief from pain, My life's burden had increased with my greater fall from innocence. Before cumming from Leland's kisses and slow fucking, I could claim being a victim. Technically, I still could. Even a woman who orgasms during rape, is still being criminally violated if it's against her will.
My experience was one of my world crashing upon my shoulders. I was betraying my husband and neglecting my children. "No, no no no..."
"Shhhh, Colleen." Leland continued to kiss and fuck me, but I didn't climax again that night.
He fucked me that following morning. I pleaded him to let me go home. He fucked me two hours later. The man was a bull. I had a milder climax, not quite a real orgasm in my book. He didn't lord it over me that second time. I think he just failed to notice it. I had kept quiet through my brief, pleasurable throes.
Finally, he led me down to the lobby, my 'birthday party' clothes in terrible disarray, my hair and skin filthy from the room and Leland's cum.
It was finally check-out time. He escorted me to my Volvo and opened the door. "You still owe me." Leland shut me in and wandered down the shadowed street. I sat in the locked vehicle until I had spilt what tears remained in my eyes.
The kids were at school when I returned home, but George had stayed out of work. I wept fresh tears in his embrace. He patted me awkwardly, jealousy and sympathy at odds in his heart. He guided me to our bedroom.
There, he drew a hot bath and helped me step in. I nearly begged him to drown me, but I was too afraid of being rejected. For the first time, George saw the welts on my body, but he did not falter in supporting me.
My grieving husband waited in the chair by his bed. I heard him sniffing unhappily.
When the water grew cold, I climbed out, toweling myself while going to him. "You're amazing, George. You did your best yesterday.
I did not, Colleen. His head remained bowed. "I hated you, really hated you for letting him in our home. He's been here before, right."
He didn't need me to confirm his suspicions. "The only hate you have, My Love, isn't for me. You had no choice. Please, Husband, forgive yourself."
"I try. I know the truth. Mr. J- LEland is the one responsible. But I did think ill of you obeying him."
"How so?" I sat on the edge of the bed across from his chair.
He had to wrestle the question from humiliation's grip. "Did obeying him turn you on?"
I shook my head. "I hated it, but what I hate worse is my inability to stand up for myself."
"Tell me about it." His lone jibe submerged into a sea of shame. We sat for an hour wanting to hold each other, both unable to enact that hypocrisy.
The children walked quickly after their release from school. I was wearing my opaque robe, but bra and panties would have been torture. "Mom! Why were you gone all night?" Ridley shook me in his hugging arms. I winced under his embrace, hearing his frustrating. "I wanted you to tuck me in bed!"
"Pooh, you're too old to be tucked in." I patted his hair as arrhythmically as he hugged me. "But it was my Birthday!"
"I can tuck you in tonight, if you really want."
"Don't be a pest, Brat. You may be fourteen now, but your special day is over." Peg was in fine form. "Mom what happened between you and Mr. Jones last night?" She went in for the kill.
"PEG!" George shouted.
She scowled, allowing her question to hang. Ridley was instantly interested too.
I sighed, shaking my head. "You really have some imagination, Peg." I began. "Mr. Jones isn't used to eating all the junk we served last night. He got ill, and I decided to stay with him overnight. I even took him to the hospital this morning, but they said it wasn't serious. Fortunately, Medicare paid for his exam." I could have added something about his deceased wife, but George might have laughed.
"You know your mother has a soft heart for underprivileged people. Peg, you need to start seeing the good in her, instead blaming her for the constraints that caring parents place on their children."
Although Peg could wrap her daddy around her little finger, she was also more likely to be swayed by his lectures over mine.
The antagonistic mood in the room cleared, and we strived for a normal evening together. Before going to bed that night, I asked Ridley if he wanted me to tuck him in. He saw Peg holding back her mirth, a first for her. "I guess not. I'm glad you could help Mr. Jones."
"Good night -- Rider." Peg let loose with a cackle.
"PEG!" It was my turn to be cross with her.
"I was just joking, Mom." She kept shuddering, stifling laughter.
"It's your bedtime too."
"Yeah, yeah." She headed to her room.
